Romancing the Machine

[Received May 14, 3:12 PM] Quiz Time?! Reply TRIVIA now to take our next quiz!

[Sent May 14, 3:28 PM] Okay, this is totally embarrassing, but… I don’t remember who you are, uh… Your name isn’t even in my phone. Did we meet at the party the other night?

[Received May 14, 9:41 PM] MindQuiz Mobile Quiz Club Reply HELP for help.

[Sent May 14, 9:44 PM] Lol, thanks. I’m glad you’re being so easy going about this. ‘HELP’ haha.

[Received May 14, 9:50 PM] Request not recognized.

[Sent May 15, 10:42 AM] Sorry, sorry. I’m probably coming on a little strong, aren’t I? Oh God, it’s really early, I’m sorry…

[Received May 15, 12:02 PM] Did you know that having blue eyes is caused by a recessive gene? Text FACTS to learn more!

[Sent May 15, 12:36 PM] Oh, so you ARE still talking to me. That’s good! So, you have blue eyes huh? What does the rest of you look like? lol

[Received May 15, 3:23 PM] Quiz Time?! Reply TRIVIA now to take our next quiz!

(Oh, I get it, playing hard to get, huh? I’m game.)
[Sent May 15, 3:28 PM] I’m really enjoying this back and forth, but we should totally meet up… So… would you like to see me again sometime?

[Received May 15, 9:07 PM] Did you know that you can see the Great Wall of China from Outer Space??? Text TRIVA to learn more!!

(Wait, is that a yes? Is it a euphemism for… OH! Haha!)
[Sent May 15, 10:42 PM] Yes… I did know that you can see the ‘Great Wall’ from ‘Space’. Haha. But will I be seeing YOU on Thursday night?

[Received May 16, 11:33 AM] George Washington was the first president. Which president spent the most time in office?! Text YOUR ANSWER NOW!!

(Spent the most time..? Is she asking about what I do for a job? That’s weird…) [Sent May 16, 12:18 PM] Well, haha, I usually get out around 5 or so, but how does 7 sound for dinner?

[Received May 16, 7: 59 PM] Quiz Time?! Reply TRIVIA now to take our next quiz!

[Sent May 16, 8:11 PM] Um, okay… sure. Uh, you have blue eyes, and… well, we’re going to have dinner Thursday at 7. We ARE having dinner, right?

[Received May 16, 8:12 PM] Request not recognized.

(shit, shit, shit….) [Sent May 16, 8:30 PM] Oh… are you busy that night?

[Received May 23, 4:31 PM] Like Indian Food? Text RESTAURANT to find places to eat locally!!

(I thought I was never gonna hear from her again, score!)
[Sent May 23, 4:34 PM] Wow, I thought I did something wrong and you stopped talking to me! And I love Indian food! When are you free?

[Sent May 30, 4:00 PM] Hello? Still alive? :/

[Received April 1, 12:07 PM] MindQuiz Mobile Quiz Club Reply HELP for help.

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News Room

Jim: More on that later. Now, we wanted to take a closer look at the Bruiser campaign, how’s he doin’ John?.
John: He’s a bulldog, Jim.
Jim: Quite tenacious, isn’t he?
John: No, he’s literally a bulldog. Bruiser is a dog’s name.
Jim: He does look like a bulldog with those jowls of his, huh?
John: That’s because he is – literally – a bulldog!
Jim: *cough* … Up next: a recap of-
John: Are you kidding me? You can’t see it? That an animal is running for Senate?
Jim: Well, he does have a reputation for being rough around the edges…
John: Literally a dog, Jim!
Jim: *cough* Well, moving on…
John: Oh my god. You can tell. You do see it. Why aren’t you saying anything if you can see it?!
Jim: Our next story is –
John. Damn it Jim, answer me!
Jim: …Anyway… Up next: a recap of President Whisker’s State of the Union Address, right after the break.
John: *sobs*

Who’s Line

So, I saw that Whose Line Is It Anyway? is returning. And, if I can be crass for a moment readers (which is approximately six of you, progress!), that’s fucking awesome.

Seriously.

Like, I would have had sex with that moment. Or at that moment.

I did, fyi, just don’t tell my girlfriend that’s why… (that’s not for here)

Anyway, Whose Line is fantastic, but its also something I feel like I appreciate through an ‘annoying, overprivileged youth’ lens. See, I love Whose Line. But I feel like they’re so much better at improv than I will ever be because they’re older. I’ve been watching  a lot of the old Songs of ________ skits, and I am blown away by Wayne’s ability to know who Cher is (amIright?)

Maybe It’s just because I feel like an adequately cultured individual until I watch comedy, but I feel like I’m missing out by being born white, male, in the year bracket where I would be in my 20’s now…

IDK, as the kids say. I feel like I almost rather have some relatable disadvantage that I could pimp out for comedic purposes. White privilege anyone?

Sorry if I offend, it’s a concept I’ve had rolling around in my head for awhile now, and hell, what better place to out myself as a… a… well, a whatever. than the internet?

 

Did I mention I’m slightly intoxicated?

Delightfully Unpleasant

So, I was hangin’ out at work, and on my break I had a brief discussion about words I would consider ‘delightfully unpleasant’. I think we all know what these kind of words are, even if we call them something else (fantastically uncomfortable, etc.)

The initial word in question was ‘moist’. It’s a blasé example now because everyone dislikes the word moist, (well, I don’t, hence this post) and they can articulate why, but it does a good job of illustrating what I’m getting at.

There are words that – probably because of what we associate them with – make your brain crawl when you think of them. I think we should use them more, because they are hilarious.

So, just throwing this out here, try using these words more to spice up a conversation while making someone very uncomfortable:

  • moist
  • girth (and its derivatives: girthy, etc.)
  • seep (and again, derivatives like seeping or seepage are super fun)

Can you think of more? Leave suggestions in the comments!

Arguments With a Hamburger

Arguments With a Hamburger

Me: Alright, I’m gonna eat you now.

Hamburger: WAIT!

Me: What?

Hamburger: Don’t you want to add delicious cheese to make me complete?

Me: I ordered a HAMburger

Hamburger: Yes, but it’s not too late….

Me: I’m lactose intolerant!

Hamburger: Really? I didn’t know that.

Me: …You want to kill me, don’t you?

Hamburger: I never said anything to the contrary.

[silence]

Me: Well, as long as we both know where we stand.

Hamburger: Indeed.

Me: Yep.

[pause]

Hamburger: So, no cheese?

New Thread

Hi folks! (I’m assuming that someone will read this eventually) There’s a new category up called “Arguments With a Hamburger”

I have, and continue to write absurd things. It’s like talking but with words. I also really liked the style of this one bit I made a while back called Arguments With a Hamburger. There was no exposition of any kind, only dialogue, and I really thought the medium was cool. So I decided to post the bits here.

Well, don’t let me tell you how cool it is, you tell me how cool it is! (Please, my self-esteem could use it)

Arguments With a Hamburger

Guy Manson and the Dangerous Girl: A Serial Novel

Episode 1: One of the Good Guys

“Great, just great…” said Tony

“Another one, splayed out like so much chopped liver,” I agreed.

“Is that what that smell is?”

Murder was always a messy business. Then again, so was cleaning trash off the streets. You’ll find me right in the center of that Venn diagram.

“Any witnesses?”

“Are there ever?”

“We get stories from the neighbors?”

Tony pulled out his notepad. “Lady two doors down said he was always working late. Across the hall confirms, and adds that he never seemed quite right. Gentleman on the second floor had a charming tale about two sparrows who outsmart a fox.”

I sighed and massaged the bridge of my nose. “You get a statement from the landlord?”

As if on cue, a heavyset eastern European gentleman. Hairy, smelt like sausage something awful.

“What is going on?!” he demanded.

“Sir, I’d ask you to lower your voice and keep back, this is a crime-”

He got in my face. “You listen, buddy. This is my building-”

I’d had enough. I grabbed Sausages by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “It’s Guy, buddy, and I suggest you get your ass off my crime scene before I drag you in for questioning! You got that, Sausages?”

“S-s-sausages?” he asked, sweating.

I released him and wiped my hands on his shirt, acquiring more sweat. “You’ll be hearing from us if anything turns up.” I turned to my partner. “Let’s get outta here, Tony.”

Tony smirked as he followed me out onto the street. “Looks like it frosted last night.”

“C’mon, I need a drink.”

I hunched my shoulders into my coat as we walked down the boulevard to my favorite hole-in-the-wall. The frost from the night before clung to anything that wasn’t asphalt. The smell coming from the sewer grates reminded me of my mother’s cooking.

“Where we headed, Guy?”

“Bernie’s.”

Bernie’s Irish pub. Out of the way, almost no crowds, a place where a guy could get a drink in peace. Most people didn’t get why an Irish pub would exclusively serve Mexican cuisine, but I didn’t care. Bernardo made a mean chalupa.

“Now?”

“I need a drink.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “After you.”

“C’mon, happy hour is almost over.”

Bernie was a financial genius. Happy hour was nine in the morning till noon every day, three dollar shots and five dollar top shelf. In the winter he let nature keep his daily meat shipments chilled, so happy hour also meant two for one chalupas, before the meat spoiled in the afternoon sun.

I pushed open the heavy oak door to the establishment. A quick scan confirmed we were the only ones in the place, and I made a beeline for the bar. Bernie was waiting for us, cleaning the counter with a rag.

“Guy Manson! How’s it goin’ Jefe?”

“Long day, Bernie.”

Tony straddled a barstool. “Just a water for me, Bernie.”

“Not a morning person?”

Tony forced a smile. “I try to lay off the tequila shots before noon.”

Bernie turned to me. “What about you, Jefe?”

I counted off on my fingers. “Whiskey, tequila, and two chalupas,” I said.

“Breakfast of Champions and a pair of O’Lupas comin’ up!”

As Bernie disappeared into the kitchen, Tony took a swig of his water and turned to me.

“So what’s our next move?”

I sighed. “We need a lead.”

“And we’ve got nothin’.”

“Five guys don’t wind up like yesterday’s chalupas without some kinda trail!”

Bernie was back. He slid me a glass and a plate.

“We gotta report back to the Captain, Guy.”

I slammed the whiskey and grimaced. “Not yet.”

“We were supposed to report in as soon as we were finished in the apartment.”

“I know.”

“So why can’t we go back to the station?”

“Lucky.”