It's Monday! And you know what that means on The Monster Apathy! That's right! I'm hung over and phoning it in. And maybe you think that's because of all the Oscar parties I went to last night with my entourage of sexy, gymnast, crime-stopping, supermodels. Well, I'm a gentleman and I don't kiss and tell (or not kiss and tell) or (or not kiss and sit at home crying on the couch because not only am I alone, but also I'm out of toilet paper and those coffee filters really chap my ass.) I don't do any of those things is my point. Although, I sorta doubt anyone who has read this blog for any length of time expects me to have a point. That's like expecting a whimsical unicorn to come scampering into your house uninvited and take a big glittery dump on your coffee table.
So there's a guy at work who has to have everything be about him and he's my favorite person to listen to because he always talks really loud to himself and says things like "Oh I'VE seen things a hundred times worse than THIS!" and "You think YOU know what pain is?" and "I have to watch my mouth because they are just looking for a reason to fire me, I guarantee it!" It is this last statement that I would like to address, because he ends ever second or third thing he says with some kind of guarantee, and one time I had the sniffles and he guaranteed that I was getting H1N1 or Herpes or Spattergroit©* or whatever, but I didn't end up getting anything, so his guarantee didn't hold up and now I want to find out if I can sue him.
I'd be all "Your Honor! This MAN had a verbal contract with me that said forthwith I would gain some sort of compensatory illness from said nasal leakage, and check this shit out your wizard-ship! No sickness!" and then I would run up to the bench and grab his gavel and start banging it and shouting "Order! Order! Or I'll clear this courtroom!" and then the bailiff will tackle me and the last thing I hear before I get dragged off is "Sir, I warned you about wearing that filthy bathrobe in my court the last time you were here**!" And then I'll shout "Diplomatic Immunity!" and then I'll say "That'll do, Pig." to the bailiff... only really quiet and soothing so maybe he'll relax his grip a little so I can make a break for it.
Sometimes my daydreams are more exciting than I can even stand.
This is how you would graph the words "I am so cool" on a graphing calculator. Because knowing is half the battle, and graphing calculators are the other half, and being able to show bullies that you ARE cool because LOOK! MY calculator says so! is another half, and being hard to grip because you are inordinately sweaty is another half.
* This is a Harry Potter reference, because I believe that one day Hagrid will show up and tell me I'M really a wizard and still only ten years old, and that whole time I spent drunk and striking out with the girls from the Honors Sorority was just a bad dream.
** That last time was a simple misunderstanding about the definition of "shoplifting" and how it may or may not apply in a porn store because I thought those places were like the Wild West and there were no rules. Seriously. Have you SEEN the things they have for people to put inside them? It was like Thunderdome in there.
PS: You should read my Mama Pop article. It's a matter of life-and-death. If you think movie reviews might kill someone. (Besides Gene Siskel... Too soon?)