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Right here. I can't say enough about it. Just go. Trust me. It's completely safe for work and will alter your life forever.

Go already. Why are you still reading?!

Secret Santa

We did an office Secret Santa. I was under the impression that the point of a "Secret" Santa was that nobody knows who gave them what so that no feelings are hurt and no grudges are held. Well in my office the *secret* part is about as well-kept as the identity of Superman, in other words not all.

We all gathered around the conference table. The first person opened their gift, and immediately said, "Who gave this to me? I need to know. I love it." The giver then identified him/her/itself and the secret part was out the window.

My boss then proceeded to describe a joke he saw on the Mind of Mencia that was wholly inappropriate for an office setting. the punchline made fun of Koreans for eating dogs. I guess he thought since there are no asians in my office that it would be acceptable.

What did I get? I got this. What did I give? I gave this.
Both excellent presents indeed.

All in all, another awesome office experience.

No Words

1000th Visitor

Today at 3:00 AM (est) and 26 seconds, this blog had its one-thousandth visitor. And where was this visitor from...Nepal!!! How fitting! As a reward for being such a diligent reader, this person (and you know who you are) can write a post about whatever they want. (I'm assuming that it will be some very harsh criticsm deriding me for my lack of writing skills, my stupid humor, the lack of thought in the posts, the repetitive nature, how nobody ever comes to it, the fact that I'm American, how much I suck at Halo, my sexual preferences, etc.)

Anyways, it's not a heaping plate of wonderfully delicious momos but it could be the second best reward out there.

Miscellania

Today I thought of the phrase, "Spite is the fuel of genius."

I don't know how true this is. Why do I say fuel? Fuel is not a transformative substance but only something to get something started. Although there are other fuels for genius as well I think, e.g. football, anger, love, boredom. "Spite is a fuel of genius" might be a better saying. Thoughts?

Anyways, I also watched all 8 episodes of 30 Rock online today and got paid to do it. It was all right. Tracy Morgan was surprisingly tolerable and the show actually has some edge. I suggest episode 8, "The Break-Up" for its inappropriate skewering of Condoleeza Rice.

Speaking of TV, I was fortunate enought to view "My Boys" on TBS this week. It is set in Chicago and consistently makes references to the northern suburbs, or North Shore, where I grew up. That's cool but the references make no sense whatsoever. They claimed there is a great sushi restaurant in Skokie, that for some reason it's uncool to live in Glenview, and that Northbrook has some racy hotel where slick guys take girls to party. I am sorry, but the closest thing that Northbrook has to "racy" the Dick's sporting goods just because its name is Dick's. Bizarre.

Many blogs have things a device called an Open Thread where commentators can talk about whatever they want. If I ever started a *popular* blog, all my open threads would be O"Pun" Threads. I am determined to make this happen one day.

Mmmm...Cupcakes

I like to watch the O'Reilly factor for two reasons: 1. The War on Christmas segments and 2. The use of the term secular progressive. When Bill says etiher of these things, it touches me in places that one man should not touch another man. But now I have a third reason: Lessons in logical deduction.

The other night, Bill had on two proponents for same-sex parenting. Bill responded that same-sex parenting goes against nature:

You know the old commercial -- don't fool around with Mother Nature? What you're doing is you're taking Mother Nature and you're throwing it right out the window, and I just think it's crazy. I really do. And that's not based on religion or morals or -- Annie [sic], you're a good person, Norah's a good person. All right? But it's just that you say, "Hell with nature -- the hell with it. We're going to do what we want. It's just as good. And you guys are crazy." And that's what you're saying.

Bill further backed up his thesis that same-sex parenting was somehow unnatural with this logical gem:

You know, why wouldn't -- why wouldn't nature then make it that anybody could get pregnant by eating a cupcake?

To specify Bill analogy: Same-sex parenting is to heterosexual parenting as eating a cupcake is to getting pregnant.

It's genius. Absurdist genius.

Adjectives

I was fortunate enough to see the movie The Holiday over the weekend. It's a romantic comedy with (in order of stalkability) Cameron Diaz, Jude Law, Kate Winslet, and Jack Black. My verdict: It is what I thought it was. No suprises. Engaging cast. Not bad. Not great.

I went on Rottentomatoes.com to see what the critics thought and was particulary struck by one review, the New York Observer's Rex Reed who describes the movie as "so loaded with charm that it makes you glow all over and puts a smile in your heart." To describe a movie as "loaded with charm" instantly makes me want to see movie. This got me thinking to what other types of reviews would make me want to see the movie. Here are my top 5:

5. "Packed with so much vein-popping adrenaline that it makes crystal meth feel like a cup of coffee."

4. "Loaded with so many laughs that your sides will literally split and begin to bleed."

3."Filled with sassy CGI talking animals with celebrity voices and a myriad of pop culture references that make it meanlingless after next year."

2."A movie that shows the gritty conflict between a idealistic young cop and the his fellow officers who are jaded by what they see in the line of duty."

1. "A film that is coated and dripping with delicious covering of wry irony that sardonically savages current American culture/poltics/people."

The Insanity Continues

She is at again. Using the fax machine to call a number that doesn't exist again and again and again. How is this possible? Seriously, some people just need to put down for the good of society.
.
.
.
Well, maybe not put down.

The Economics of Laundry

Over the weekend, I became engaged in a debate with my *significant* other, about how to properly handle my laundry. She wants me to fold, iron, organize and put away my laundry. I would prefer to use the laundry basket method, in that I just leave the clothes in the basket and iron them when neccessary.

She did not see the logic in my ways because we have different utility functions when it comes to laundry. She values the time she saves when it comes to picking out clothes to start the day more than the hour or two on a Saturday that it takes to organize the laundry. I, needless to say, value the Saturday hour more than the time it will take to gather my clothes for the day from the unorganized laundry basket.

She makes the argument that her way is better, when in truth, her way is better for her while my way is better for me. Like buying a video game system, her method is the PS3 while mine is the Xbox 360. They are each good in their own ways, just different priorites for different people.

Freedom to choose is what defines capitalism and by impinging my right to choose, my other behaved was being quite the communist.

Life Goals

1. I am debating on whether I should start telling people that my life goal is to be eventually recognized as a Messiah for at least 1 million people. I can't decide whether the amusement of saying it will outweigh the acrimony associated with making such a statement. Any thoughts?

2. Related to this first thought, I would like to create some sort of story, sentence, sketch, or situation that displays an infinite iterative irony where the levels of irony only expand as one delves deeper into the irony. An ambitious goal but one I hope to acheive before I pass. Perhaps then the cynics of the world will see me as their father, son, and ironic ghost and thus allowing me to achieve my first goal.

Marx was Merely Sleep-Deprived

Every moring when I am awakened by the beeping of my cellular phone, I think to myself there has to be something better.

Something better than the daily chore of going to work, doing whatever taks assigned to me, and heading back home for a couple of relaxation before heading to bed again. Is capitalism really the best way to divide resources? Can't I commit myself to a life of leisure while others work? Am I really doomed to the 9 to 5 existence? Is this all there is?

On the weekends, when I can get my full 8-10 hours of sleep, these questions never pop into my head. Therefore, I conclude that all bitching about the system stems from a lack of sleep. If the system desires to perpetuate itself, it should ensure that its citizens get more sleep. Therefore, I implore Congress to institute a 5 hour working day.

And seriously, a good 5 hours of work is all anybody really can possibly do in a day. I defy anyone to tell me that they really get more out of working 8 hours with a lunch break, and bitching to coworkers about their problems than with a solid 5 hours of work.

Cliched but Nonsensical

I once read somewhere, I think it was Pitchfork, that the lyrics written by Coldplay's Chris Martin pull off the dreaded combination of being both hackneyed and cliched while not making any sense at the same time. This is quite a feat.

With the rise of Coldplay's popularity, however, more artists are trending towards this lyrical aesthetic. Example Mat Kearney's, Nothing Left to Lose:

Something's in the air tonight
The sky's alive with a burning light
You can mark my words something's about to break

And I found myself in a bitter fight
While I've held your hand through the darkest night
Don't know where you're coming from but you're coming soon

[bridge]
To a kid from Oregon by way of California
All of this is more than I've ever known or seen

[chorus]
Come on and we'll sing, like we were free
Push the pedal down watch the world around fly by us
Come on and we'll try, one last time
I'm off the floor one more time to find you
And here we go there's nothing left to choose
And here we go there's nothing left to lose

So I packed my car and I headed east
Where I felt your fire and a sweet release
There's a fire in these hills that's coming down
And I don't know much but I found you here
And I can not wait another year
Don't know where you're coming from but you're coming soon

[bridge]

[chorus]

I can still hear the trains out my window
From Hobart Street to here in Nashville
I can still smell the pomegranates grow
And I don't know how hard this wind will blow
Or where we'll go

[chorus]

I have no idea what this song is talking about. Absolutely no idea. It's got some great cliches though. I count about 25 different ones. And the melody is melancholy and significant sounding. It's a hit!

Insanity

I sit next to the fax machine at work. For the past hour a coworker has been trying to fax something. She dials the number and walks away. 30 seconds, I hear, "Do-Dooo-Dooooo I'm sorry the number you have called cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number including the area code and try to again." Each time she walks back to the fax machine, says something to the extent of "That's weird," and tries to fax again. She has tried at least ten times. I am pretty sure she has continually called the same number.

Ooop here she goes again. Unbelievable. Urge to kill rising. Rising.

Trite Theology

There is an interesting discussion on a Newsweek discussion board:

Millions of people are in mixed faith marriages or are unsure about their conception of God. How would you advise them to describe God to their children over the holiday season?

Well, for me I have my own advice. I think the following will work will any child who is curious about God. (And else anyone who may be having their own doubts about The Big Man)

"Well, you know, I just, well...God is what we thought He was. He's what we thought He was. He created us on the sixth day of creation. Who the hell takes the 6th day of creation like it's bullshit? Bullshit! He created us the sixth day, he rested on the seventh. God is who we thought He was! That's why we took the the damn planet. Now, if you want to deny Him, then deny His ass. But He is who we thought He was. And we wrote it in a book!"

Combining Two of My Favorite Things

Baby Names

Two women in my office are pregnant and both just found out that they are having boys. The names they have decided on are "Jayden" and "Preston." Such crappy names. Whatever happened to the great names of yesteryear? My top 10 boys' names that I will name one of children if they happen to be male (and they better be).

10.Alfred
9. Howard
8. George
7. Edwin
6. Hubert
5. Melvin
4. Bruce
3. Bartholomew
2. Jerry
1. Homer

Why Do I Even Try?

Today we had to decorate our office door for a division wide contest that will be held tommorrow. Someone brought in a lot of chips that were as a bg as a Altoid that had the letters of the alphabet written on them. Since our branch is commonly referred as "D-4" I gathered as many of the letter D chips as I could and arranged them in the shape of the number 4 and put it on the door.

Nobody got it. One response was "Why is that 4 made of out D's?"

*stunned look of disbelief at the question*

I explained and she still didn't get it. Why do I even try?

A Familiar Sound

Last night, my girlfriend was preparing some chicken in a frying pan. She put some oil in and then the chicken. She then proceeded to shake the frying pan in order to get the oil on the chicken and it made a noise that sounded familiar. Sounded really familiar. Sounded like this:

Quick Hitter

Today has been absolutely nuts at work so here are a few quick thoughts:

BcS- Florida got selected to play Ohio State in the National Championship game over Michigan. Santa, I'll I want for Christmas is a playoff system for Division I college football. All the other divisions do it. Seriously, just make it happen. I've been good this year. I swear.

Infrared Cell Phones-I was walking to the Metro on Saturday night, when a sleeping homeless man woke up when I walked by him. I was holding my cell phone composing a text message, when he asked if I was scanning his feet with infrared light from my phone. I assured him that I wasn't and he went back to sleep. Little does he know that I actually was. Hehehehe.

Casino Royale- I saw the movie. It was a half-hour too long. All the critics seem to concede this point as well. however, they still give it a good review. I'm sorry but when a quarter of the movie is just plain boring, it doesn't merit a positive review. Period.

Wetting their pants- Someone I know wet their pants yesterday. Not from fear or old age or drunkenness, just because they couldn't hold it in anymore. I still can't stop laughing about. It reminds me of an old promo for some Fox show that is not around anymore. I think it was called "Brothers" or something like that. Anyways, someone asks a guy "Boxers or Briefs?" He replies, "Depends." After looking at the stunned faces of the people around him, he clarifies by frantically adding, "Depends on the day!" So funny. Ahhhhh, incontinence never ceases to amuse.

Great Moments in Nepali History: Episode XIV

A Gay Old Time

The Nepali had the hankering to see a movie so he called his half-Asian friend. After much deliberation, they agreed to see In Good Company, mostly because of a desire to see the well-proportioned figure of one Ms. Scarlett Johannson.

There was one problem, however. The movie had been out for a month or so and wasn't playing in any major theatres close by. The Nepali's half-Asian friend said that he knew of a cinema that was showing the movie. The Nepali was a bit skeptical of the half-Asian, as he was skeptical of all Asians that weren't Nepali, but agreed to go to the see the movie, mostly because of the previosuly stated desire.

Once they arrived in the lavishly decorated theatre, the Nepali's keenly honed "Nepali Sense" began to suspect that something was amiss. He looked around the theatre, with its red velvet chairs, and saw rows and rows of men sitting next to men and women sitting next to women. And they were holding hands, and touching each other, and acting like they had been arranged to be married.

Suddenly, it struck the Nepali like a overheated momo that had been too hastily shoved into a mouth: This theatre was filled with homosexuals. Now, the Nepali had no problems with homosexuality, but questions still raced through his brain. Why had his friend brought him here? Is he trying to tell me something? Is he trying to take our friendship to the next level? Why don't they sell Heineken at the concession stand? What if he makes a move on me? How will I let him down gently?

The movie started and the Nepali tried to keep one eye on the screen and one eye on his friend, in case any such move was attempted. Despite his intention to remain vigilant, The Nepali was soon too distracted by a the Himalayan-like "peaks" that kept appearing on the screen to pay any mind to the man sitting next to him.

Fortunately, the movie ended and no pass was made at him. The two friends parted ways after sharing a laugh about the demographic make-up of the theatre audience. The Nepali was glad that his friend has not tried anything but he still vowed to never let his guard down in future encounters with the half-Asian.

Moral of the story: Those that reside in houses made of glass shouldn't cast the first stone.

Great Moments in Nepali History: Episode XIII

Doctors Without Borders

The Thursday night started out like any other for the Nepali and his roommate. The Nepali was engaged in a galaxy far, far away slowly building up his powers in an attempt to establish a galactic empire. The roommate was busy drinking Bud Light and generally failing in his attempts to be "funny."

Suddenly there was a crash. And then a high-pitched yelp of pain. The Nepali shifted in his chair to see his roommate grasping his bleeding right thumb with a panic stricken look on his face. Next to the roommate were an unopened, plastic sealed bottle of Brazilian rum and a Swiss Army knife that had blood on the blade.

Leaping into action, the Nepali told his stunned roommate to put a towel over his thumb. The Nepali then led the near-hysterical roommate out of the dorm room and together they trekked across campus to the University hospital.

Once they arrived at the hospital, the Nepali immediately demanded that the roommate see the finest doctor availiable. Since it was 2 am in the morning, the best doctor was a second-year intern. The Nepali carefully monitored what the doctor was doing, making sure that the wound was cleaned thoroughly, the novacaine injected generously, and the stitches sewed neatly.

Thanks to the heroic efforts Nepali, the thumb was saved. Although his imperial desires had to be put on hold for the night, the Nepali did not hold a grudge for that would not be the noble thing to do.

Moral of the story: American college students are very, very dumb.