I Heart Internet News

Blame Jay Leno for my never ending amusement at awfulsome headlines. 

Religious People Say They Don't Watch Porn. Internet Data Says Otherwise. Um, I feel like "duh"should be somewhere in this headline. Maybe even "fucking duh?". 

Catholic Bishop's Advice For Divorced, Remarried Catholics: Stop Having Sex. Clearly, he thinks they should just watch more porn. In true creepy fashion, said Bishop actually suggests remarried divorcees should live like 'brother and sister'.  I think he reads too much VC Andrews and needs to be sent back to Seminary.  

Here's how long you can look someone in the eye without creeping them out. OOH! A new skill to learn for commuting and long, uncomfortable meetings. 

How can people with narcolepsy drive safely? Um...

Stop judging ugly fruits and vegetables. You're hurting their feelings, you insensitive jerkfaces. Right before you slice them into tasty tasty salad toppings. 

Just a reminder that alligators show up in trees. What the fuck. Now they can climb goddamned trees, so in Florida you not only have to worry about SNAKES dropping out of a tree on your head (oh yeah, it happens people), but fucking ALLIGATORS can ambush you from above? Who allowed this shit? Darwin, I'm looking at you. 

Live out your dreams of frolicking with farm animals through virtual reality.  Seems like a legit alternative to Pokemon. Or internet porn? Remember the post about billy goats? Yeah. I'm stopping now. 

Starbucks is giving all US workers a raise. And, by the way, raising drink prices by 30 cents. Once, long long ago, I convinced my ex to quit smoking by saying "do you REALLY want to spend $10 a day on cigarettes?" I suppose I'm going to have to break the iced mocha addiction soon for the same reason. 

The Desolate One: Ephelba and Mr. Bill's Spawn

As it turns out, poor Samael the Starbucks Greeting Demon is unable to withstand the violent changes in Minnesota weather. Slowly but surely, he's following in Mom's (the Wicked Witch, of course) damp footsteps as we hover around 32 degrees today.

Clearly, the expression on his ever-shrinking face is that of his father, Mr. Bill.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about... Samael The Desolate One serves coffee at my Starbucks.

But not for long. I imagine he has that tiny evil voice similar to the Halloween demon in Buffy, right before she stomps his tiny ass.

Help Me! I'm melting...oh NOOOOOO.

Today's Caffine Served by Samael, The Desolate One

This morning I stopped at Starbucks, because I'm an addict and I'm not sorry I stop every morning that I go into the office (today is an office day), and this little dude greeted me:

Samuel waving hello...or, screaming for help. 

FYI: THEY named him Samuel, not me. I would've named him Samael* The Desolate One and told everyone he was reaching out to swallow your soul. Or possibly given him sharp teeth like the Doctor Who snowmen...

*Spell-check doesn't recognize "Samael" as a word. Read your damn mythology, spell-check. Seriously.

In other news, the last couple of days I worked from home because 1) I felt like crap and 2) I'm trying desperately not to slip into a post-holiday/post-project-go-live-extravaganza depression. I'm tired. Really REALLY tired, and achy, and everything just doesn't feel good. Therefore, I stayed home and worked in my office there. I had companions.

Because it's hard to go anywhere in my house without companions, including the bathroom (particularly now that it's winter and the bathroom door doesn't quite latch...so Thor can open it, check on what's going on, and leave...after pushing the door all the way open. Asshole.)

Also, they snore, which isn't a big deal except while I'm working it's a constant reminder that they get to nap and I don't. I call shenangians.

Thor's special superpower: Sleep Contortionist. 

NOBODY gets past Chewy, bitches.
Also, please ignore that my bed is unmade. I hate making the bed: it seems wasteful since I'll just mess it up again anyway. 

And then this happened...

I'm on my second Starbucks today, so it's possible I'm slightly shaking as type this wired. But I think I'd be both disturbed and amused by this even if I was caffeine-sober.

WTF:


CAMLAMBEN!

 It's like TurDuckEn, only...not even a little.

I don't have a reference for this...it's from Facebook (the source of all things random and strange, other than airports). If you know where this came from please comment...I'll gladly add the credit.

And thus I'm removing myself from the interwebz until after the 4th of July, because I've likely stirred up enough hornets AND CamLambEns for the week.

PS: unsurprisingly, "CamLambEn" isn't recognized by spellcheck.

This is a public service announcement, not a real post.

So due to a PLETHORA of spamming I've been getting since January, I broke down and added stupid word verification to my comments area.

Dammit. I really don't like doing that (mostly because I generally have trouble reading the fucking verification data myself and it sometimes stops me from commenting on other blogs). Pretty please comment anyway?

That just made me think of Despicable Me. "The physical appearance of the 'please' is irrelevant." Heehee.

I'm off to Seattle and Olympia (what? Starbucks capital of the world? yes please!) tonight to see my most awesome friend Erin...therefore, due to a high level of excitement and anticipation I'm completely unable to focus on any single fricken thing today. A so-called real post will likely happen on Monday, as today's brainpower is pretty well shot.

UPDATED: Warning: This Post Contains Coworker GIBBERISH

Writing doesn't pay any of my bills: I write because if I didn't I'd wither away into bitterdom. Yes, I just invented a word. I'm that awesome. Or mental. Probably mental.

In my I'm-paid-to-sit-at-this-computer hours, I'm a business analyst in the medical insurance industry. Sounds boring as hell, doesn't it? Sometimes it is (generally those are days when you get multiple blog posts during the day and I'm on twitter/facebook/interwebz WAY more than I should be). Case in point: I'm writing about 10,000 UAT (User Acceptance Testing) test cases for software functionality.

Ok, I'm exaggerating. It's 1,000. I'm not kidding. Sound exciting? It's not. At all. It's tedious and nitpicky, but still better than starving my dogs to death, so I do it.

Sometimes it's challenging, interesting, and even a little fun even though I'd always rather be writing.

Or watching Xena: Warrior Princess.

Or bellydancing, which is the only hobby I've ever had that pays a little bit, and that's a neat little bonus to the fun of it. But being inherently lazy, usually I'd rather be watching Xena.

The past few years I've had a couple higher-stress gigs (one required a lot of travel which I bitched wrote about plenty already), but they were small companies with a "family" feel to them (if your family is high-drama and a lot of work). The current gig is delightfully low-stress: partly because I'm a contractor (therefore I don't EVER work over 40 hours because they'd have to pay me overtime) and partly because it's a large company with all the requisite bureaucracy.

And the requisite gossipy, snarky personalities. During all that time with nerdy developer-types I forgot hilariously annoying that many women working in the same space can be.

Of COURSE I have examples, silly! These are all from the same girl who I can only assume is a spoiled brat attention whore simply because she's so fucking loud and repetitive I'd like to ball-gag her that her inane comments make it through my headphone-filter. Oh sorry, was that snarky?

• I hate when I see people treating their kids like pets: kids shouldn't be on leashes, that's just cruel. Because clearly she's never lost a child anywhere and is a judgy bitch.
• It's like $100 for cable and internet. I'm not paying for HBO when all I watch is "The Young and the Restless" on Soap Network every night.
• I can't believe you lost your kid! What kind of parent ARE you?
• NAME REDACTED put an APB out on her kid in Macys! (please include a bitchy, snotty tone and loud self-important giggling when you read this for full effect).
• NAME REDACTED! LEASHES ARE FOR DOGS, NOT KIDS! (In caps because she yelled it. Repeatedly. I'm only partially kidding when I suggest ball gagging her.)
• Name Redacted, my elbow just burst. Can my elbow burst?
• OMG YOU HAVE TO GET THEIR FRIES (again, yelling and went on about Smashburger fries for a good 10 minutes. Irritating, actually).
• Well I'M not coming in early! Upon the supervisor asking for volunteers to work on authorized overtime. Said supervisor replied, "We already know that, Twit Coworker Name Redacted. You said so three times. We heard you."
• UPDATE: Why are you always isolating me? (upon discovering the person across from her cube is moving out) Supervisor: "Oh Twit Cowroker Name Redacted, if we were going to isolate you we'd put you in a padded room. Or the basement where no one could hear your whining." Fucking AWESOME.

In other news, the new Starbucks guy gave me a fork with my oatmeal today. A fork with my oatmeal. WTF?

To fix my day I've ordered 4 Unicorn Fart Lip Balms from Etsy. They smell like thin mints. Fucking tubes full of AWESOME. Also, Etsy may be the devil...
This whole post was totally random and if you made it this far I love you a lot. And you may need some professional help...just sayin.

UPDATED: Unicorn Farts are on their way! WOOT!