Here are some observations I have made over the last week.
Babies R Us is a great place to meet chicks. Since Joyce was working on Saturday she left it up to me to pick up a gift at Babies R Us for a shower we were attending. I have never been in the place. I went there and noticed I was the only guy there by himself. Sure, there were some preggo’s in the storte but there were also some single women looking to by gifts like me.
This got me to thinking, that this place is like Spanish fly. I point this out to all my single friends, the Babies R Us Franchise is a chick magnet. On top of the availability of said women, you also got them thinking about babies. Women, have this maternal instinct that gets intensified when they are in this store. So, basically it is like shooting fish in a barrel.
Joe Buck and Tim McCarver are twins spawned from the seed of the demon. I was forced to have to listen to their inane banter for three hours during the All Star game. These guys don’t have an original thought between them. Joe Buck is the most obnoxious broadcaster working. If he wasn’t Jack Buck’s son he would never get work. He over reacts, over dramatizes and thinks whoever is playing is the greatest. He gave more blow jobs during the broadcast then a groupie backstage at a Metallica concert.
Just how Tim McCarver keeps getting hired is beyond me. I don’t know anyone who thinks this guy is knowledgeable in the least. He is a bore and adds noting to a broadcast. There are so many better analysts out there that it boggles the mind how he keeps his job. I don’t know who he has pictures of but they must be incriminating.
The Taste of Chicago is for tourists. I love my wife. I must because every year she talks me into going to the taste. I hate going. Let me set the scene. There are a bunch of rhino’s chowing down on turkey legs and fried dough at alarming rates. The smells are worse then that of the elephant cage of Brookfield Zoo. People walk like zombies, unaware of others all in the pursuit of chicken wings and turtle soup. Add to that, it is usually hotter then the surface of Mars and you can see why I hate it.
Eating Raisin Bran in the morning gives me plenty of ammunition in my cheese cutting contests at work. I work with two other guys. We share a large office which has three desks. We really need a woman in our little area because we let em rip whenever the feeling hits. I don’t drink coffee and my co-workers do. So, each morning I was getting blown out of our room in a barrage of flatulence that brought tears to the eyes. It was a war and I was losing.
So, I deiced to fight back. I bought a big old box of Raisin Bran and now each morning I have a nice big bowl with some 2% milk. This enables me to add some pungency to the battle. There are more tunes coming out of our asses in the morning then at the Chicago Symphony orchestra.
Working in Downers Grove turns your brain to mush. At least at my company it does. It is like a cult there and each person is more of a dullard then the next. Maybe it is having no choice but to eat Fuddruckers or Olive Garden for lunch. Or maybe it is being stuck inside an Office Space type environment for eight hours a day. Whatever it is these people need to get out more. I really can’t describe the scene adequately. It is something one needs to experience for themselves. Whenever I am forced to have to go to our office there, I brace myself for the worst and usually receive it as it becomes a parade of dumbass after dumbass asking questions at a third grade level.
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