Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
Over the past couple of years I've developed a low-wattage concern,
beneath the scar tissue of my mind, about job security. I work in an
industry that's vulnerable to technological advances, I think, and worry
that I'll be forty-eight or fifty years old and doing salad bar
maintenance at Shoney's or something.
Depending on which co-worker I'm talking to, we either have nothing to
worry about, or are as doomed as the freakin' dinosaurs were. I have a
feeling that the truth lies somewhere in the middle, and that's not
exactly where I'd like it to be.
Because of this, I've started paying attention to what other people do.
I like to compare my situation with theirs, to see who's more at risk.
And it seems that I come out on the losing end of the equation every
time.
Last week I was talking to a guy at the Secret's swimming practice, and
it sounds like he's a big shot at Proctor & Gamble. I'm pretty sure
their plant here manufactures toilet paper. Toilet paper! Talk about job
security -- I can't think of a bigger demographic than the ass-wipers.
Hell, the moment the bombs start falling is when we'll need them the
most. No way to compete with that.
Another person I spoke with owns two or three pizza shops locally. So
there you go. Pizza will never go out of style either, and apparently
the dude has a loyal following. PLUS, he's helping the first guy, in a you
grease 'em up and I'll wipe 'em down situation. We've got nothing
like that happening at my job.
When I started out on my life's journey (heh) I was hell-bent on doing
something "cool" and "interesting." No way I
would've considered a gig inside the shitpaper industry.... Now here I
am, forty-three and imagining a future where I'm saying things like,
"A memo just came down from home office! We're to start leaving the
skin ON the cucumber slices! Did you hear me people?! Leave it
on!!"
Of course, there's always Amway. Right? Maybe when the shit hits the fan
I can turn this website into a household cleaner portal? Humor and
off-brand detergent.... It's something to consider.
-- I'm struggling this morning. My contact lens solution is playing
havoc with my left eye. They make two different formulas of the stuff:
original and advance. Somehow I ended up with advance cleaner and
original conditioning solution. And that doesn't compute.
My eyes burned all day yesterday, and I
took my contacts out as soon as I got home from work. The moment I
popped them back in this morning I knew something was wrong, very wrong.
Far worse than yesterday. I removed them immediately, but my left eye is
still red, burning, and watering to beat the band. I can't get it to
stop. I've splashed water in there and everything, but it's just drip,
drip, drip.
My eyes: I hope they don't have to come out.
I feel like I'm writing this update while looking through a shower door
today. If it's not one thing it's a freakin' nother. And dat's da troof.
-- Will, the keeper of the blanket, has added a few new quotes to his
list. You can read them at the bottom of the page, here. Thanks Will! I
appreciate the ongoing effort.
-- Surf Reporter Don sends along this extra-nice Smoking Fish sighting,
captured in the heart of the motherland. Thanks, man!
-- And a very shady and mysterious person, who insists on remaining
anonymous, forwarded me these sightings as well. Yikes. I just want to
be clear here.... I'll keep the identity secret as long as the pressure
is off. But if Alberto Gonzales dispatches some suits to my house, I'm
gonna start singing like a bird. This ain't Robert Novak, goddammit.
Great pics, though! Extremely cool.
-- The very first word of dialog in Sunday's episode of Deadwood
was "fucking." I wish I'd paid attention to the last word
spoken, because there's a very good chance they came in with a fuck and
went out with a fuck. Check the numbers if you don't believe me.
-- Surf Reporter Jeff has a daughter going into first grade. Last year's
class was asked to write letters to the incoming students, to welcome
them aboard and tell them what to expect. Here's the letter that Jeff's
daughter received a few days ago. As you can see, it features the rather
confusing term "lunch cunt." And so it goes at Redd Foxx
Elementary.
-- Before I get to the question of the day (apparently Clive doesn't do topics
anymore), I'm going to turn it over to our good friend Buck, who wants
to question my manhood some more. Here ya go.
Be sure to check out the
Monuments to Buck pictures, linked at the bottom of his update, because
it took me a substantial amount of time getting those things ready last
night. Shit.
-- And finally, what's the most unusual thing you've ever bought via the
internet?
When we first moved from Atlanta to Southern California, Toney and I
bought a box of Vidalia onions from some outfit in Georgia. (We were
homesick, what of it?) They were very expensive, and the produce Nazis
at the California border confiscated two of them, leaving us with only
four. Four onions for, like, twenty bucks. Then later that week we were
in Costco, and saw that they were selling big twenty pound sacks of the
things for about seven dollars. Yes, it was a Great Moment in Douche.
What about you? Have you ever ordered anything strange over the
internet? Tell us about it in the comments.
And have yourselves a great little weekend, y'hear? See ya on Monday.
--
Over the past couple of years I've developed a low-wattage concern,
beneath the scar tissue of my mind, about job security. I work in an
industry that's vulnerable to technological advances, I think, and worry
that I'll be forty-eight or fifty years old and doing salad bar
maintenance at Shoney's or something. 