The Truth Behind the Oil Spill

My Dreams Have Come True



Guess who's sitting behind me now, indefinitely?

My fucking boss.

Good Christ! What a way to start a Friday.

This means that from now on, I can stop being paranoid. There's no need to ever worry about my boss coming in and looking over my shoulder – I'll know for sure that she's there.

So, this puts a huge damper on my Internet activity. My day usually consists of:



9: Look at up to 12 different news, comedy, and blog sites.

10: Write in my blog.

11: Work

12: Check out a few choice sites.

12.15: Work

1: Check out a few choice sites.

1:15: Stare blankly at my monitor and try to figure out what to make for dinner.

1:30: Work

3: Figure out things to Google and Google them.

4: Work

5: Stare blankly at my monitor and try to figure out something to do that night.

5:15: Google things.

6: Go home.



My new routine will be as follows:



9: Work

6: Go home.



Could life get any sweeter?

It's not just the Internet, though. My boss is a multi-tasking juggernaut and loves to assign the most mundane gopher work to me. Therefore, now that I'm in ear shot I'll be spending a good portion of my day:



Writing instructions for printers that change cleaning packages with every new moon.

Helping wrap gifts for some orphan my boss has decided to put on her tax return.

Setting up streamers and confetti for the endless array of birthdays that run through the year.

Help take pictures of printers for said cleaning package changes.

Researching restaurants, movies, and how the Academy Awards work on the Internet. This will be only touch with the outside world.



I like change, but there's no good that can come of this.

Also, I'm self-destructive. I could imagine that one day I'll let the mood strike me and decide to throw caution to the wind, throw on my headphones and research the anatomy of a monkey for four hours with my boss looking on. I'd do it just to say "I could give a shit about this shit job."

So, you're looking at the end of me as you know him.



Oh well.



In other news, it looks like North Korea has nukes. If this comes as a shocker, you must be an ostrich or a Bush foreign policy advisor.

Rumsfeldt is down in Iraq for no reason at all.

Everyday there's another 30 people killed down there, why was it such a hootenanny when a mosque and a bakery got blown up?

Well, he's down there, so rest assured that the violence will end.

In a related story, riots broke out at Euro Disney and Mickey Mouse was sent as emissary to squash the violence.

Between blowjobs, Clinton said a disturbing thing while here in Seattle.

When asked about the nuclear nightmare in Korea, he responded something to the effect of "Well, if I were you I'd be quite concerned being on the West Coast."

Which rings true: North Korea has been testing missiles by lobbing them over Japan and once asserted that they had the capabilities to send a missile across the Pacific and nail the West Coast.

So, call Seattle, Portland, and Los Angeles "whipping boy."

And I mean it. None of us voted Bush as a majority and I'm sure he couldn't care less if an entire seaboard of hippies and degenerates get blown to kingdom come.

But, of course, we're pagan idolaters, so we'd really just be going to hell anyway.

On the bright side: we'll probably get rid of the majority of reality T.V. producers.



What else?

I watched the Best of Eddie Murphy SNL last night and realized something: he's the only black person on the show that was consistently funny. I know what you're thinking, but I checked and Chris Rock did not "rawk" while on SNL. He only came into his own when he left for stand up. Which tells you the rumors may be true: that SNL treats black performers poorly and gives them shit to work with. Or, they just happen to suck. Who knows?



We still have time to kill.



REALLY BAD SEX PERFORMANCE STORY



So, let me make it clear: this never happens to me! Let the cliches roll one. Seriously, I've had it where it takes me forever to come, but never limpage. OK, here we go:

So, I go out with Monica, Josh, Chris, Scott, Shanna, and Monica's friend NAME WITHHELD. Well, Monica tells me this chick is a total freak – swell.

We go out drinking and she's all over everyone, and she's wearing this low cut dress and her tits are practically falling out when she plays pool.

I'm like "mission accepted."

Well, we get to talking and she's into all this freaky shit. She had just gotten a divorce and explained that when she was with her husband they would swing and she'd do multiple dudes, women: the works.

Later in the evening, I'm piss drunk and making out with her all over the way to a diner. It got to the point that I was trying to talk her into doing it in an alley.

So, we eat and me and NAME WITHHELD leave to go back to my house. We start making out and the others come back and are cracking jokes about it. Chris says something and I actually start cracking up while I've got my tongue in her mouth.

This was the extent of my drunkenness.

At this point I just kinda looked at the whole thing from a comedy point of view, rather than a sex point of view.

The next thing I know, I'm talking her into going to the bathroom for more privacy: I live in a studio and there were three people crashing at my place.

Well, in the bathroom she first tells me that she has to go home pretty soon because her kids are home alone. The next thing she tells me is that she wants me to take her from behind in the ass.

??????

I don't ever want to hear those two sentences in the same paragraph again.

So, we start making out and stuff and I go down on her and we end up in a 69 position. I'm still kinda laughing to myself at the whole scene and I'm still drunker than shit.

Well, I'm munching her box and not even aware of what's going down below: I have a vague feeling down there, but not much – I'm that drunk.

Pretty soon I hear "What's wrong?"

I look down and you can figure out the rest.

Limp as a noodle.
She decides to leave and I keep trying to talk her into continuing so that I can prove my manhood.

For the next three weeks I had to continually tell myself it was the booze, situation, her aggressiveness, and the fact that I had a timer set (I have to get home soon) and not the fact that my gear didn't work.

Well, I one nighted a woman later that month and all was well.

"Your dick is so hard!" was heard at one point.

Redemption was mine!

But, for three weeks – I woulda nailed a homeless woman just to prove it.

Such is life.



Pleace,

Matt