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Oh God, trans fat! Oh my God, Cholesterol! A few of us were just LOL at the bag of chips depicted in this picture, which I snapped with my phone at our company picnic. FWIW, the bag really says zero grams trans fat, zero milligrams cholesterol, but WTF, “OMG cholesterol” is funnier! Don’t eat these bitches! You’re bound to end up with coronary heart disease!
As I mentioned, today was the annual company picnic where I work. This year, the location was Saint Edward State Park on Lake Washington.
Western Washington has had nine sunny, warm, and dry weekends in a row, and this weekend was number ten. The weather was bright and sunny and not a cloud in the sky. We couldn’t have asked for a nicer day! (Honestly, I’m fed up with sunny days. I long for a grapefruit. No wait, I long for a rainy day.)
I carpooled with my manager and a co-worker. We left around 10:30am, and got the the park about 12:15pm. Food was coming off the grill, so we ate just after arriving. I had some chicken sausage, and a bottle of water. The water had been on ice, and looked really good. I twisted off the cap, took a big drink, and nearly spit it out like Denis Leary did when he drank cranberry ale. What the fuck? Kiwi-strawberry-flavored Propel Fitness Water? This is not water! Let me tell you something, chicken sausage and kiwi strawberries don’t mix. Not in any circles. Holy shit, Gloria Bunker! I’d wager that impoverished children of third world countries would reject chicken sausage and kiwi strawbetty water. I went to another cooler and fished out a tried and true Mountain Dew.
A couple ladies from accounting started playing a game of limbo with the kids. They had a CD of limbo music that was like listening to episodes of Barney & Friends. It was torure. I’d rather listen to a jug band play country-western Muzak with 16 penny nails on chalkboards. But, it was for the kids, so I tried to endure… by getting further away from the CD player. It worked for a while, but eventually someone turned it off for me when I started making fun of it.
A bunch of guys (and a few of the girls) started playing volleyball, but it was hot and sunny, and my fat ass doesn’t like to sweat… or play volleyball. I think there’s going to be a few sunburned employees at work tomorrow, because that sun could have cooked a Sunday roast today. Pass the steak sauce.
They drew a few tickets for door prizes, which were really gift cards to local and Internet businesses. I won a $50 gift card to REI. I’m gonna use my door prize money to pitch a tent! Shorty after the awarding of prizes, we gathered up our shit and headed home, skirting out of cleaning up. That ain’t right, but that’s what we did.
I could write about a co-worker that was following us back to Oak Harbor from Kenmore, and almost caused a multi-car pile-up at the I-405 to I-5 interchange. However, it’s getting late, and this update is getting far too long.
I was watching the Yankees at Angels baseball game Saturday, and the Angels had a relief pitcher on the mound named Scot Shields. Really? Scot Shields? I wonder if he’s softly scented to provide comfortable everyday freshness. He didn’t look ultra thin or super long, and I didn’t see any flexi-wings. What the fuck were his parents thinking?
This of course got me thinking about watching a Red Sox games last week, where they have a center fielder named Coco Crisp. Okay, his real first name is Covelli, but goddamn. What kind of chocolatey delicious nickname is Coco when you have a last name of Crisp? What about the hot-headed outfielder for the Oakland As, Milton Bradley? Let’s just hope he doesn’t name his kids Yahtzee or Kwyjibo, triple word score names if I ever heard one. Then there’s the hysterically funny NASCAR driver, Dick Trickle. He must have been teased mercilessly as a child in school. With a last name of Trickle, you would think his parents would have named him Dave. Fuck. We have a dick trickle problem in the bathroom where I work. Hey, maybe Dick Trickle should see Scot Shields for that dry-weave freshness between pit stops. Finally, there’s Rusty Kuntz, an ex-baseball player. The name is probably pronounced “coonts,” but I choose to think it’s “cunts” for the purpose of my blog. Piss off if you don’t like it. Do you think Dick Trickle can cause Rusty Kuntz? There’s not a whole lot that’s funny about an oxidized vagina, unless you start to think about the imagery, then it’s funny as hell. I can’t help but come back to Scot Shields again. “New galvanized Scot Shields with wings. Prevent further corrosion of your rusty vagina, and stops embarassing rust staining.” Okay, I’ll stop.
Speaking of female anatomy, a former co-worker and friend who now works for Chipin.com, jabbered me a blogspot.com URL of some woman named Heather who’s using Chipin to raise money for breast augmentation — heatherwantsboobs.blogspot.com. Her excuse is that after childbirth, her rack never returned to its normal perkiness. So, in order to be happy with her headlights, she wants to raise the cash to “repair” her damaged lady lumps. Chipin has a hard limit of $3000, but this chick’s dilemma is a boob job costs $6000. So, the fine chaps at Chipin told her to set up a Chipin event for each melon, and that’s eactly what she did. She’s now got a “race” going, of sorts, between her hooters. Which one of her jugs will reach the $3000 target first? The left one or the right one? I gotta admit, using Chipin.com to fund bigger funbags is ingenious. And apparently, there’s discussion of her sharing pictures of her sweater puppets before and after the procedure. How many slang words can I use for breasts? How ’bout one more. If you like fake titties and want to help out, make a donation.
Anyway, when she placed the Chipin widgets on her blog, they were stacked in a column. My friend said that Heather should put the widgets side-by-side. I agreed, and jokingly said that she should use a little bit of javascript to make make the widgets jiggle. Well, after a little playing around with javascript, styles, and tables in HTML, we made a nice little presentation that should entertain any red-blooded American male (and a few red-blooded American females) for a few minutes.
Chipin.com sent Heather the code, but somehow she messed up pasting it to her blog. As I write this, the iframe window on her blog is far too small, but there’s a new link on the page pointing to the jiggly widgets. All this really proves just how stupid things can get when one is bored. Bitchin’.
