Isn't she great? She's so funny. Ohh...Tina. Ron Bergundy?
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
The Debate is Tonight!
This isn't meant to be funny, but since Bill O'Reilly is involved it may be impossible not to laugh.
Tonight, the debate appears to be on. That is exciting.
I urge all of you to watch it and know what the candidates are saying FROM THEIR OWN MOUTHS.
Don't watch Fox News, Don't watch CNN.
Listen to their words. Listen to their words.
This just came to me because I saw the Bill O'Reilly/Obama interview.
I am not an ardent Obama supporter but I would like to think I know a terrible interview when I see one.
It just makes me sad that millions of people not only suffer through, but enjoy hearing Mr. O'Reilly speak.
He never lets anyone talk and rationalizes it by saying that he is trying to "speed things along."
An interview is based on the simple question and answer format. Yet, it appears from videos like these that he asks the question and before 6 words leaving the interviewees mouth, he is attacked.
I don't know, maybe it is just me.
All I know is, watch the debate. Listen to these men's words. Make as sound a decision as your can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XW7tkN-_GM
Tonight, the debate appears to be on. That is exciting.
I urge all of you to watch it and know what the candidates are saying FROM THEIR OWN MOUTHS.
Don't watch Fox News, Don't watch CNN.
Listen to their words. Listen to their words.
This just came to me because I saw the Bill O'Reilly/Obama interview.
I am not an ardent Obama supporter but I would like to think I know a terrible interview when I see one.
It just makes me sad that millions of people not only suffer through, but enjoy hearing Mr. O'Reilly speak.
He never lets anyone talk and rationalizes it by saying that he is trying to "speed things along."
An interview is based on the simple question and answer format. Yet, it appears from videos like these that he asks the question and before 6 words leaving the interviewees mouth, he is attacked.
I don't know, maybe it is just me.
All I know is, watch the debate. Listen to these men's words. Make as sound a decision as your can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XW7tkN-_GM
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
News
I am on a recent mission to know exactly what is going on in the world. I know that is nearly impossible since I am reading mostly the San Fran Chronicle and that means I am learning only what they
(The Bad People) feel is important.
I am mostly greeted by headlines that say, "Obama is doing this bad." "Mccain is older than first pyramid." "Presidential Candidates cause quite a ruckus at hotel vending machine!"
You get the picture.
While I know this presidential race is very important, the constant flow of what the candidates are doing is not very exciting. In fact, it is only good for inducing comas.
Just when I thought I had given up on the news, I stumble upon the beauty that is MSNBC. I don't really know what MSNBC means but I think it must stand for: MEN whom Support NEWS BECAUSE it is just plain SILLY!
My reasoning for this is because of a simple headline that they had on their online newspaper. It reads, and I quote: "Man Goes to Court After Butt Stapled Shut."
I don't even have a joke that is good enough to follow that.
For those of you whom don't believe me, haters, I have provided the link:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26855727
(The Bad People) feel is important.
I am mostly greeted by headlines that say, "Obama is doing this bad." "Mccain is older than first pyramid." "Presidential Candidates cause quite a ruckus at hotel vending machine!"
You get the picture.
While I know this presidential race is very important, the constant flow of what the candidates are doing is not very exciting. In fact, it is only good for inducing comas.
Just when I thought I had given up on the news, I stumble upon the beauty that is MSNBC. I don't really know what MSNBC means but I think it must stand for: MEN whom Support NEWS BECAUSE it is just plain SILLY!
My reasoning for this is because of a simple headline that they had on their online newspaper. It reads, and I quote: "Man Goes to Court After Butt Stapled Shut."
I don't even have a joke that is good enough to follow that.
For those of you whom don't believe me, haters, I have provided the link:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26855727
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Casa De Not Telling the Truth
For those of you who are familiar with the Casa de Fruta establishment along state route 152, you know that they are a bunch of filthy liars.
If you are called Casa de Fruta (House of Fruit, Fruit House) then you better damn be a only a house with fruit in it. Yet, these Fruta people have the nerve to not only sell fruit, they also have an abundance of other attractions. Including a Chevron station, restaurant, train station, bird cages, pie house, and other stupid things. If they were honest and didn't want to be accused of false advertisement, which they should be, they would be called Casa de Fruta y casa de Chevron station y other establishments that are muy estupido.
Sorry, I know this doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is.
If Mcdonald's started to sell Persian rugs along side their burgers, their would be a mutiny on their hands and someone would pull an "Old Yeller" on Mr. Ronald McDonald. Unless of course they called it Mcdonald's burger place and Persian Rug Emporium.
I don't want much, just honesty in my fruit sales.
If you are called Casa de Fruta (House of Fruit, Fruit House) then you better damn be a only a house with fruit in it. Yet, these Fruta people have the nerve to not only sell fruit, they also have an abundance of other attractions. Including a Chevron station, restaurant, train station, bird cages, pie house, and other stupid things. If they were honest and didn't want to be accused of false advertisement, which they should be, they would be called Casa de Fruta y casa de Chevron station y other establishments that are muy estupido.
Sorry, I know this doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is.
If Mcdonald's started to sell Persian rugs along side their burgers, their would be a mutiny on their hands and someone would pull an "Old Yeller" on Mr. Ronald McDonald. Unless of course they called it Mcdonald's burger place and Persian Rug Emporium.
I don't want much, just honesty in my fruit sales.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Funky Brewster
A couple of weeks ago. My roommate and I were wizarding around town the other day, when we noticed a vacuum shop off in the distance. Before we go any further, if you happen to be unfamiliar with wizarding it is nothing more than roaming about town while wearing a cape and/or wizarding staff. Staff's vary in size and power ability but even the feeblest of staff's can catapult you into being considered "one who wizards about town", or even a "wizarder."
Anywho, as we were wizarding about town, we stumbled upon (due to our long cape) a small vacuum shop. This shop was not very easy on the eyes. In other words if it were a person, we would tell our friends that he/she was "nice" rather than "gorgeous." Upon entering we realized that once you made your way past the vacuums, you entered into a world of Beer. Beer making supplies covered the walls. Different types grains and hops and whatnot were within inches of our fingertips. So rather than backing out honorably, we marched out of the shop with 60 dollars worth of items that might go horribly wrong since they had now been put in the wrong hands.
Getting home, my roomate and I were dumbfounded at the process of making beer. It seemed to me that nothing good can come from liquid sitting in a bucket for two weeks. Yet, we proceeded to cook our ingredients believing in our hearts that we were doing good for our country. Once we poured our ingredients into the bucket, our house smelled as though 30 ailing cats somehow managed to find their way in our house and die. Some of these cats I presume must have also recently caught fire since there was no way to account of the smell of fur and charcoal.
After a taking a short breather and a chance to rationalize and cope with what we were doing, my roomate and I let the beer sit.
It is still sitting to this day. I have no idea how it is going to turn out. My other roomates wonder when these childish antics will cease, yet we haven't even tried our first batch and we have already commenced on our 2nd and 3rd batch.
If you would like pointers on the beer making process, ask a professional.
If you would like to be a guinea pig, call us.
If you would like no part of this asinine behavior, more power to you.
Anywho, as we were wizarding about town, we stumbled upon (due to our long cape) a small vacuum shop. This shop was not very easy on the eyes. In other words if it were a person, we would tell our friends that he/she was "nice" rather than "gorgeous." Upon entering we realized that once you made your way past the vacuums, you entered into a world of Beer. Beer making supplies covered the walls. Different types grains and hops and whatnot were within inches of our fingertips. So rather than backing out honorably, we marched out of the shop with 60 dollars worth of items that might go horribly wrong since they had now been put in the wrong hands.
Getting home, my roomate and I were dumbfounded at the process of making beer. It seemed to me that nothing good can come from liquid sitting in a bucket for two weeks. Yet, we proceeded to cook our ingredients believing in our hearts that we were doing good for our country. Once we poured our ingredients into the bucket, our house smelled as though 30 ailing cats somehow managed to find their way in our house and die. Some of these cats I presume must have also recently caught fire since there was no way to account of the smell of fur and charcoal.
After a taking a short breather and a chance to rationalize and cope with what we were doing, my roomate and I let the beer sit.
It is still sitting to this day. I have no idea how it is going to turn out. My other roomates wonder when these childish antics will cease, yet we haven't even tried our first batch and we have already commenced on our 2nd and 3rd batch.
If you would like pointers on the beer making process, ask a professional.
If you would like to be a guinea pig, call us.
If you would like no part of this asinine behavior, more power to you.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Our Rotten Elders
In 1999, Tom Brokaw wrote and introduced the world to "The Greatest Generation." This book chronicled the lives of men and women from the United States of America. The great Americans dealt with the turmoil caused by the Second World War. These people witness things that following generations could not even fathom. Yet, while Mr. Brokaw could be right that they were at one time part of the greatest generation, many of them have no split off and formed one of the meanest mobs of angry old farts this world has ever seen.
While I am indebted to them for being able to do the things that I don't believe I could face, I don't deserve to be treated like a dirty plague carrying rat every time they feel I messed up on their coffee beverage. That's right, I am a barista. I am even somewhat egocentric. However, I just don't know why members of the greatest generation always generate most of my emotional stress at work.
Don't get me wrong, there are still some great older people out there. Some men like, let's say Bob, coming gallivanting through the door with the most contagious smile on their face. When they reach the counter, they clearly state their order and no matter how it turns out, this drink seems to be the most wonderful part of the day. They then breeze out of the cafe nearly crying because they feel so fortunate to have had another day in which they could sit, drink a coffee, and talk to their neighborhood friendly barista. These are good times.
Yet, there are others. The Others. Whom clearly have a vendetta against me as soon as they can force their way through the doors. Once in, they are ready to consume. Throwing human emotions aside, they mumble their order and expect me to know exactly what they want. When I attempt to clarify their order, they look at me as though I had just stepped on the head of their favorite dog, presumably named Lilly. Now that "Lilly" is dead, they hate me. No matter how marvelous this drink is, it takes like a tall glass of urine to them and they only thing that would satisfy them now is a quart of my blood. I am not saying old people are vampires, well maybe I am. Anyway, after this unsatisfying experience, they pull out a dollar from their pocket as if to give a tip, then quickly put it back in their pocket.
I cannot wait to be old
While I am indebted to them for being able to do the things that I don't believe I could face, I don't deserve to be treated like a dirty plague carrying rat every time they feel I messed up on their coffee beverage. That's right, I am a barista. I am even somewhat egocentric. However, I just don't know why members of the greatest generation always generate most of my emotional stress at work.
Don't get me wrong, there are still some great older people out there. Some men like, let's say Bob, coming gallivanting through the door with the most contagious smile on their face. When they reach the counter, they clearly state their order and no matter how it turns out, this drink seems to be the most wonderful part of the day. They then breeze out of the cafe nearly crying because they feel so fortunate to have had another day in which they could sit, drink a coffee, and talk to their neighborhood friendly barista. These are good times.
Yet, there are others. The Others. Whom clearly have a vendetta against me as soon as they can force their way through the doors. Once in, they are ready to consume. Throwing human emotions aside, they mumble their order and expect me to know exactly what they want. When I attempt to clarify their order, they look at me as though I had just stepped on the head of their favorite dog, presumably named Lilly. Now that "Lilly" is dead, they hate me. No matter how marvelous this drink is, it takes like a tall glass of urine to them and they only thing that would satisfy them now is a quart of my blood. I am not saying old people are vampires, well maybe I am. Anyway, after this unsatisfying experience, they pull out a dollar from their pocket as if to give a tip, then quickly put it back in their pocket.
I cannot wait to be old
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