And now the post you've all been waiting for.........It all began at 8:30 in the morning, and ended way too late. So without further ado........my prize post.......
The 16 Hours of Christmas
In the first hour of Christmas my good friend gave to me, a make-shift bloody mary.
In the second hour of Christmas I had a bite to eat. A tiny piece of bunt cake, and another make-shift bloody mary.
In the third hour of Christmas we opened all of our gifts. I got a picture frame, I gave away soap, and had another bloody mary.
In the fourth hour of Christmas I had a little weed. Drunk dialed the family, ran to the market, began drinking screwdrivers, and ran around in our jammies.
In the fifth hour of Christmas we were visited by friends, and draaaank mooooore booooze. Supervised the stew, played holiday music, took some naughty pix, and got ready for the party.
In the sixth hour of Christmas we arrived at our friend's place. Draaaank moooore booooze, played with spin art, gabbed gabbed gabbed, nibbled on the goodies, and ran around like wild monkeys.
In the seventh hour of Christmas I discovered Champagne punch. We opened all our presents, draaaank moooore booooze, I got a little purse and a book, I gave away soaps, and I got some aromotherapy.
In the eighth hour of Christmas we welcomed more guests. Tried to play Cranium, had a drunked jam session, draaaank moooore booooze, danced around like nuts, ate yummy biscuits, played with our new stuff, all the while in our jammies.
In the ninth hour of Christmas we discussed circumcision. Hung out on the balcony, hollered in the halls, draaaank moooore booooze, had drunken heart to hearts, received strange calls from boys, refilled my solo cup, and had sore cheeks from smiling all day.
In the tenth hour of Christmas we rolled around on the floor. Celebrated a new engagement, painted an ass with HO HO, played on the keyboard, stuffed toys in our pants, discussed where we like to be kissed, draaaank moooore booooze, shared our thoughts on "grooming", flashed in our p-jammas, and thought about going to a bar.
In the eleventh hour of Christmas some of us took off. Drove by The Stud, drove by The End Up, found The Shotwell open, draaaank moooore boooze, I discovered Chimay, played the longest game of pool ever, and livened up a bar on Christmas night.
In the twelfth hour of Christmas we flirted with an Irish lad. Played more pool, picked at a day old turkey, smoked like chimneys, draaaank moooore booooze, giggled non-stop, tried to hold our booze, argued with a Mexican, and peeled layers off as we finally got warm.
In the thirteenth hour of Christmas we saw a gay Puerto Rican’s penis. Danced to 80's rock, bonded with my friends, draaaank moooore booooze, pledged ourselves as Hindus, played pool with the Mexican, and ordered ourselves another round.
In the fourteenth hour of Christmas we started to feel the pain. I had a heart to heart with the Mexican, tried desperately to articulate, draaaank moooore booooze, flashed my festive undies, got reprimanded by the bartender, thought about going home, and asked each other when it all went wrong.
In the fifteenth hour of Christmas we met Zack. Tried to determine if the Irishman was gay or straight, draaaank-you know, made big party plans for next Christmas, thought about going home, and asked each other when it all went wrong.
In the sixteenth hour of Christmas we went to the Irish guy’s flat. Searched the place for liquor, remained close to the exits, staaaarted toooo yaaaawn, kept quite for the sleeping roomie, drilled Zack about his girl, and finally drug our sorry asses home!
January 07, 2003
YOU might be offended, but I can't stop laughing! Be sure to move your mouse around to find all of the hidden links. ivan-the
January 06, 2003
What’s a Night Out Without a Theme?
So back in November my co-worker friend and I decided to start our Turkey Day vacation with a bang by going dancing at Minna and then going to see Lords of Acid at the Fillmore. Initially the theme was “Rockstar”, like larger than life clothes, obnoxious sunglasses, and passing remarks about cocaine and musicians. My friend had on black boots, blue jeans, a $3.40 Mission find black t-shirt with a Precious Moments girl and a caption that read “I may not have much, but with God I have it all”, and to top it all off, a blindingly gold jacket made by designer Comme des Garcons. I donned brown boots, brown crushed velvet/some sort of animal hair pants, a white button up shirt that provided full view of my nipples, and a lovely pair of J.Lo-esque sunglasses with pink lenses. I even feathered my hair.
Once inside Minna, our characters came alive. Somehow, very early on, we became Eurotrash Rockstars. We used terribly muttled accents, we said ‘fuck’ a LOT, we pushed people, we were loud, and we kept our sunglasses on indoors. Many people approached me saying that the magnetism of myself and my friends drew them in. I had boys asking if I would just stand next to them so they would look cool. My partner in crime would occasionally tell the boys to stop looking at my breasts because “They are to give baby life not for lust” in a bad, bad accent. I had the opportunity many times to look boys up and down and snobbily declare, “I do not sink so” when they would ask for my number. A couple of hours of insolence, and we headed out for Round 2 of debauchery with The Lords of Acid.
The posse was a bit peckish so we made a bee line for the Fillmore Café where they serve, no exaggeration, the best burgers in the universe. We were still in character when the counter person brought our food over and we decided to be silly and tell the guy “Fuck you good burger”! and give him a thumbs up. You know, as if we didn't’t know the proper American exclamation for approval of something. The counter man was less than enthused. He said he didn't appreciate the foul language and gave us terrible stink eye as he went back into the kitchen. Let me get this straight. We’re at The Fillmore. To see The Lords of Acid. What’s wrong with a little good humored cursing? I had had a couple of brews and I took it upon my self to be the peacemaker. I walked up to the counter and asked if he was serious or just pulling our leg. With an expressionless face he answered that we was highly offended and that if I continued he would have me removed. I walked back to the table and mumbled under my breath, “Don’t be a dick ALL your life”. I relayed the message to the table and I was starting to get a little riled up when my friend says “Okay I’m going to break it down”. “How old do you think the guy is”? I said “I don’t know mid-thirties”? To which he answered “Exactly”! “And he serving food at The Fillmore”!
Now we’re down on the floor, mingling with the crowd and a cute boy with great nostrils starts chatting me up. I’m on my dating strike, but I can participate in innocent conversation right? I ask the guy where he likes to go out and he says he likes Bondage-A-Go-Go and The End Up. I thought he was flirting with me, but as you SF natives know, those are gay clubs, so I ask him if he likes boys or girls. He said that he likes girls, but that the music at gay clubs is just so much better. He says he has to beat the boys off with a stick, but it’s worth it. So I’m thinking okay, he not a homophobe, right on, and he really likes dancing, sounds good. Not too long after, I actually SEE him dancing and any attraction that could have developed left quicker than a frat boy on a dry campus. He danced like a flaming bottom! I wish I could find a video clip to give you an idea of how effeminate we’re talking, but just ask me the next time you see me and I’ll demonstrate. So I casually wander back over to my band of truly gay boys, ditching gay straight boy, and he happens upon us moments later. I excuse myself to the powder room and when I get back, the boys tell me they’ve invited him to join us at The Stud after the show. They were only trying to help, they obviously hadn’t seen him dance. Once at The Stud my pain became clear to the rest of the group. After dancing for about thirty minutes he shuffles over to our group and while holding his hair back and fanning himself like Scarlet O'Hara declares “Whooo, I’m overwhelmed”! “He’s even too gay for us” one of my friends exclaimed. I stayed for about an hour or so, conveniently heading towards the bar or powder room when the gay straight boy came into view. I found out a couple of weeks later that after I left he made out with a guy on the dance floor. Anyone up for theme night?
So back in November my co-worker friend and I decided to start our Turkey Day vacation with a bang by going dancing at Minna and then going to see Lords of Acid at the Fillmore. Initially the theme was “Rockstar”, like larger than life clothes, obnoxious sunglasses, and passing remarks about cocaine and musicians. My friend had on black boots, blue jeans, a $3.40 Mission find black t-shirt with a Precious Moments girl and a caption that read “I may not have much, but with God I have it all”, and to top it all off, a blindingly gold jacket made by designer Comme des Garcons. I donned brown boots, brown crushed velvet/some sort of animal hair pants, a white button up shirt that provided full view of my nipples, and a lovely pair of J.Lo-esque sunglasses with pink lenses. I even feathered my hair.
Once inside Minna, our characters came alive. Somehow, very early on, we became Eurotrash Rockstars. We used terribly muttled accents, we said ‘fuck’ a LOT, we pushed people, we were loud, and we kept our sunglasses on indoors. Many people approached me saying that the magnetism of myself and my friends drew them in. I had boys asking if I would just stand next to them so they would look cool. My partner in crime would occasionally tell the boys to stop looking at my breasts because “They are to give baby life not for lust” in a bad, bad accent. I had the opportunity many times to look boys up and down and snobbily declare, “I do not sink so” when they would ask for my number. A couple of hours of insolence, and we headed out for Round 2 of debauchery with The Lords of Acid.
The posse was a bit peckish so we made a bee line for the Fillmore Café where they serve, no exaggeration, the best burgers in the universe. We were still in character when the counter person brought our food over and we decided to be silly and tell the guy “Fuck you good burger”! and give him a thumbs up. You know, as if we didn't’t know the proper American exclamation for approval of something. The counter man was less than enthused. He said he didn't appreciate the foul language and gave us terrible stink eye as he went back into the kitchen. Let me get this straight. We’re at The Fillmore. To see The Lords of Acid. What’s wrong with a little good humored cursing? I had had a couple of brews and I took it upon my self to be the peacemaker. I walked up to the counter and asked if he was serious or just pulling our leg. With an expressionless face he answered that we was highly offended and that if I continued he would have me removed. I walked back to the table and mumbled under my breath, “Don’t be a dick ALL your life”. I relayed the message to the table and I was starting to get a little riled up when my friend says “Okay I’m going to break it down”. “How old do you think the guy is”? I said “I don’t know mid-thirties”? To which he answered “Exactly”! “And he serving food at The Fillmore”!
Now we’re down on the floor, mingling with the crowd and a cute boy with great nostrils starts chatting me up. I’m on my dating strike, but I can participate in innocent conversation right? I ask the guy where he likes to go out and he says he likes Bondage-A-Go-Go and The End Up. I thought he was flirting with me, but as you SF natives know, those are gay clubs, so I ask him if he likes boys or girls. He said that he likes girls, but that the music at gay clubs is just so much better. He says he has to beat the boys off with a stick, but it’s worth it. So I’m thinking okay, he not a homophobe, right on, and he really likes dancing, sounds good. Not too long after, I actually SEE him dancing and any attraction that could have developed left quicker than a frat boy on a dry campus. He danced like a flaming bottom! I wish I could find a video clip to give you an idea of how effeminate we’re talking, but just ask me the next time you see me and I’ll demonstrate. So I casually wander back over to my band of truly gay boys, ditching gay straight boy, and he happens upon us moments later. I excuse myself to the powder room and when I get back, the boys tell me they’ve invited him to join us at The Stud after the show. They were only trying to help, they obviously hadn’t seen him dance. Once at The Stud my pain became clear to the rest of the group. After dancing for about thirty minutes he shuffles over to our group and while holding his hair back and fanning himself like Scarlet O'Hara declares “Whooo, I’m overwhelmed”! “He’s even too gay for us” one of my friends exclaimed. I stayed for about an hour or so, conveniently heading towards the bar or powder room when the gay straight boy came into view. I found out a couple of weeks later that after I left he made out with a guy on the dance floor. Anyone up for theme night?
New Year's Day I went down to Ocean Beach to see Jim Denevan's sand design. It was a warmish and sunny day complete with giant kelp, a sand rose, a drum circle and a couple of older women dressed in hyper-colorful attire. Yay Mother Ocean!
spiral 1
spiral 2
look at the size of her!
by any other name
jammin'
colorful dame 1
colorful dame 2
spiral 1
spiral 2
look at the size of her!
by any other name
jammin'
colorful dame 1
colorful dame 2
January 03, 2003
Grrrrrr
I'm back in officeland today. I was supposed to work yesterday, but I got nauseous in the shower whilst thinking about facing my boss so I called in. I spent the day in bed reading, watching movies and napping. He wasn't so bad today, and I just kept laughing at my thoughts of how ridiculous he is. Anybody know of any job openings?
I'm back in officeland today. I was supposed to work yesterday, but I got nauseous in the shower whilst thinking about facing my boss so I called in. I spent the day in bed reading, watching movies and napping. He wasn't so bad today, and I just kept laughing at my thoughts of how ridiculous he is. Anybody know of any job openings?
January 01, 2003
December 31, 2002
December 30, 2002
SFMOMA
Body Design demonstrates the collaboration of technology and the human form. As we passed the 'Heat Seat' which works on the same principal as those bad sweatshirts of the 80's. My friend commented that we would no longer have to guess who 'dealt it'.
Architecture+Water gives us a peek into combining structure with the Earth's surface. There's a building called The Blur building that shoots jets of water outward all the way around the structure, so that it gives the illusion of a cloud of fog. You have to see it to understand it better.
My favorite modern artists were Joan Miro and Ad Reinhardt. They were fun and inventive, and drew me in.
Body Design demonstrates the collaboration of technology and the human form. As we passed the 'Heat Seat' which works on the same principal as those bad sweatshirts of the 80's. My friend commented that we would no longer have to guess who 'dealt it'.
Architecture+Water gives us a peek into combining structure with the Earth's surface. There's a building called The Blur building that shoots jets of water outward all the way around the structure, so that it gives the illusion of a cloud of fog. You have to see it to understand it better.
My favorite modern artists were Joan Miro and Ad Reinhardt. They were fun and inventive, and drew me in.
December 29, 2002
Can It Be?
that your Majesty had a wonderful date? I went out with the English guy that I met at SuperBooty back in November. Some nice culture at the SFMOMA, a couple of pints at Dave's, a down home bar, and a fantastic meal at LuLu. He was comfortable to talk to, funny, nice to wait staff (even after his meal was severely late), has NO interest in dating and/or sleeping with a man, and I enjoyed smooching him. Would certainly go on a second date. I know he's reading so, if my manners escaped me last night, thanks a bunch for a groovy day.
that your Majesty had a wonderful date? I went out with the English guy that I met at SuperBooty back in November. Some nice culture at the SFMOMA, a couple of pints at Dave's, a down home bar, and a fantastic meal at LuLu. He was comfortable to talk to, funny, nice to wait staff (even after his meal was severely late), has NO interest in dating and/or sleeping with a man, and I enjoyed smooching him. Would certainly go on a second date. I know he's reading so, if my manners escaped me last night, thanks a bunch for a groovy day.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
My gay boyfriend dropped off his house key this morning so that I could puppysit while he's in Tahoe. He came by around 7am and put it under my doormat. I woke up around 9am, opened the front door, saw the bulge under the mat, pulled the mat back, and I couldn't help but guffaw at the key chain. In gold lettering on a black background it simply read "BITCH".
My gay boyfriend dropped off his house key this morning so that I could puppysit while he's in Tahoe. He came by around 7am and put it under my doormat. I woke up around 9am, opened the front door, saw the bulge under the mat, pulled the mat back, and I couldn't help but guffaw at the key chain. In gold lettering on a black background it simply read "BITCH".
December 28, 2002
Brief Update
Oh my loyal little subjects, how I've missed the glow of a monitor, the music of the keys. I've been jonzing to blog like Louie Anderson for a doughnut. But I'm having a great break from the office and you can be sure that some shocking reading material and photos are on the way when I have more time. I checked my hosting stats, and the number of QR readers increases everyday! Be sure to tell all of your friends about my Kingdom. Or should that be Queendom?
So I just learned that my great-grandma in Illinois is touch and go, so I'm on stand-by. I told my relatives to call me before it's too late because I refuse to go to her funeral. I was fortunate enough to see my great-grandpa just before he passed year before last, and I want the same opportunity with her. It's strange because she's my "not so nice grandma" that you've heard of, preaching to me that I'm useless without a man, griping because I move so much, generally telling me how disappointed she is in me my whole life. I don't believe any of it, but you still don't want to hear it from your little old grandma. She was strong and sharp until just a few months ago, and it's heartbreaking to hear her competence decline.
Oh my loyal little subjects, how I've missed the glow of a monitor, the music of the keys. I've been jonzing to blog like Louie Anderson for a doughnut. But I'm having a great break from the office and you can be sure that some shocking reading material and photos are on the way when I have more time. I checked my hosting stats, and the number of QR readers increases everyday! Be sure to tell all of your friends about my Kingdom. Or should that be Queendom?
So I just learned that my great-grandma in Illinois is touch and go, so I'm on stand-by. I told my relatives to call me before it's too late because I refuse to go to her funeral. I was fortunate enough to see my great-grandpa just before he passed year before last, and I want the same opportunity with her. It's strange because she's my "not so nice grandma" that you've heard of, preaching to me that I'm useless without a man, griping because I move so much, generally telling me how disappointed she is in me my whole life. I don't believe any of it, but you still don't want to hear it from your little old grandma. She was strong and sharp until just a few months ago, and it's heartbreaking to hear her competence decline.
December 20, 2002
Mmmmmm, Pine!
I went to Home Depot with my friend and we picked us out a mighty nice tree. I'm no expert tie a tree to the roofer, and I was a tad frightened.
oh please don't blow off, please don't blow off!
Does this tree make my butt look big?
I went to Home Depot with my friend and we picked us out a mighty nice tree. I'm no expert tie a tree to the roofer, and I was a tad frightened.
oh please don't blow off, please don't blow off!
Does this tree make my butt look big?
December 19, 2002
from an email
(Sung to the tune of "If You're Happy And You Know It
Clap Your
Hands")
If we cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets hurt your Mama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi
And the bank takes back your Audi
And the TV shows are bawdy,
Bomb Iraq.
If the corporate scandals growin', bomb Iraq.
And your ties to them are showin', bomb Iraq.
If the smoking gun ain't smokin'
We don't care, and we're not jokin'.
That Saddam will soon be croakin',
Bomb Iraq.
Even if we have no allies, bomb Iraq.
From the sand dunes to the valleys, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections;
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.
While the globe is slowly warming, bomb Iraq.
Yay! the clouds of war are storming, bomb Iraq.
If the ozone hole is growing,
Some things we prefer not knowing.
(Though our ignorance is showing),
Bomb Iraq.
So here's one for dear old daddy, bomb Iraq,
From his favorite little laddy, bomb Iraq.
Saying no would look like treason.
It's the Hussein hunting season.
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.
(Sung to the tune of "If You're Happy And You Know It
Clap Your
Hands")
If we cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets hurt your Mama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi
And the bank takes back your Audi
And the TV shows are bawdy,
Bomb Iraq.
If the corporate scandals growin', bomb Iraq.
And your ties to them are showin', bomb Iraq.
If the smoking gun ain't smokin'
We don't care, and we're not jokin'.
That Saddam will soon be croakin',
Bomb Iraq.
Even if we have no allies, bomb Iraq.
From the sand dunes to the valleys, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections;
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.
While the globe is slowly warming, bomb Iraq.
Yay! the clouds of war are storming, bomb Iraq.
If the ozone hole is growing,
Some things we prefer not knowing.
(Though our ignorance is showing),
Bomb Iraq.
So here's one for dear old daddy, bomb Iraq,
From his favorite little laddy, bomb Iraq.
Saying no would look like treason.
It's the Hussein hunting season.
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.
So tonight is article344's big night. I hope the weather doesn't keep people away. This is a triumph for both of us since it's his first show and my first success as an art promoter. Cloud 9 on 7th just below Market from 5-10 tonight. Drop by!
December 18, 2002
From an email
DEMOCRAT:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
You vote people into office that put a tax on your cows, forcing
you to sell one to raise money to pay the tax. The people you
voted for then take the tax money, buy a cow and give it to your
neighbor. You feel righteous.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.
SOCIALIST:
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor. You form
a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.
REPUBLICAN:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?
COMMUNIST:
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk. You wait
in line for hours to get it. It is expensive and sour.
CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.
DEMOCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government taxes you to the point you have to sell both to
support a man in a foreign country who has only one cow, which
was a gift from your government.
BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government takes them both, shoots one, milks the other,
pays you for the milk, and then pours the milk down the drain.
AMERICAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are
surprised when one cow drops dead. You spin an announcement to
the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing
expenses. Your stock goes up.
FRENCH CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch. Life is good.
JAPANESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary
cow and produce twenty times the milk. They learn to travel on
unbelievably crowded trains. Most are at the top of their class at cow
school.
GERMAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer,
give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.
ITALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows but you don't know where they are. While
ambling around, you see a beautiful woman. You break for lunch.
Life is good.
RUSSIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 12 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka. You
produce your 10th, 5-year plan in the last 3 months. The Mafia
shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.
TALIBAN CORPORATION:
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two. You don't
milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.
At night when no one is looking, you have sex with both of them.
Then you kill them and claim a US bomb blew them up
while they were in the hospital.
POLISH CORPORATION:
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.
FLORIDA CORPORATION:
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who like the brown one best,
vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how to vote at all. Finally, a
bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which is the best-looking one.
NEW YORK CORPORATION:
You have fifteen million cows.
You have to choose which one will be the leader of the herd, so you pick
some fat cow from Arkansas.
DEMOCRAT:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
You vote people into office that put a tax on your cows, forcing
you to sell one to raise money to pay the tax. The people you
voted for then take the tax money, buy a cow and give it to your
neighbor. You feel righteous.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.
SOCIALIST:
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor. You form
a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.
REPUBLICAN:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?
COMMUNIST:
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk. You wait
in line for hours to get it. It is expensive and sour.
CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.
DEMOCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government taxes you to the point you have to sell both to
support a man in a foreign country who has only one cow, which
was a gift from your government.
BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government takes them both, shoots one, milks the other,
pays you for the milk, and then pours the milk down the drain.
AMERICAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are
surprised when one cow drops dead. You spin an announcement to
the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing
expenses. Your stock goes up.
FRENCH CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch. Life is good.
JAPANESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary
cow and produce twenty times the milk. They learn to travel on
unbelievably crowded trains. Most are at the top of their class at cow
school.
GERMAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer,
give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.
ITALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows but you don't know where they are. While
ambling around, you see a beautiful woman. You break for lunch.
Life is good.
RUSSIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 12 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka. You
produce your 10th, 5-year plan in the last 3 months. The Mafia
shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.
TALIBAN CORPORATION:
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two. You don't
milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.
At night when no one is looking, you have sex with both of them.
Then you kill them and claim a US bomb blew them up
while they were in the hospital.
POLISH CORPORATION:
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.
FLORIDA CORPORATION:
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who like the brown one best,
vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how to vote at all. Finally, a
bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which is the best-looking one.
NEW YORK CORPORATION:
You have fifteen million cows.
You have to choose which one will be the leader of the herd, so you pick
some fat cow from Arkansas.
From an email
Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage, hang a banana on
a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go
to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches
the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.
After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result all the
other monkeys are sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey
tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.
Now, put away the cold water. Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it
with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the
stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him.
After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the
stairs, he will be assaulted.
Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new
one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer
takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace a third
original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time
the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked.
Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not
permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating
of the newest monkey.
After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have
ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey ever again
approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not? Because as far as they
know that's the way it's always been done around here.
And that, my friends, is how a company policy begins.
Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage, hang a banana on
a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go
to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches
the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.
After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result all the
other monkeys are sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey
tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.
Now, put away the cold water. Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it
with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the
stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him.
After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the
stairs, he will be assaulted.
Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new
one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer
takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace a third
original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time
the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked.
Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not
permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating
of the newest monkey.
After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have
ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey ever again
approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not? Because as far as they
know that's the way it's always been done around here.
And that, my friends, is how a company policy begins.
December 17, 2002
Introspect
I had the greatest therapy session yesterday. It was the first time that I cried in front of my therapist. I've been very happy with my life for the last several years, and I've been dealing with adversity in a very healthy way, but it's because I'm so full of pain from my past, that there hasn't been any room to add any more hurt to it. A couple of months ago I decided to finally chip away and the remaining debris, and make more room for more joy. I think I just made that sound much hokier than it is. So we've been looking at my childhood, and I'm allowing myself to feel sorry for the little girl inside. The little girl who was told that if she cleaned her room she could go play, only to be told after she had done more than asked, that her mother had changed her mind. Just because. The little girl who couldn't participate in any after school programs because she had to get home and mind her younger siblings. The little girl who told countless guidance counselors about the physical abuse her mother inflicted, only to be told that children deserve to be punished when they've been bad. My mother dished many years of physical and mental abuse that I need to address rather than suppress because it has shaped how I handle intimate relationships. I don't want to be that woman who gets comfortable enough with her significant other, only to have a breakdown because she thinks he can fix it. These are certainly MY issues, and and I don't want to bring any excess baggage into the union. I'm getting a little ahead of myself considering I haven't had more than a second date in six months, but it's best to be prepared.
I had the greatest therapy session yesterday. It was the first time that I cried in front of my therapist. I've been very happy with my life for the last several years, and I've been dealing with adversity in a very healthy way, but it's because I'm so full of pain from my past, that there hasn't been any room to add any more hurt to it. A couple of months ago I decided to finally chip away and the remaining debris, and make more room for more joy. I think I just made that sound much hokier than it is. So we've been looking at my childhood, and I'm allowing myself to feel sorry for the little girl inside. The little girl who was told that if she cleaned her room she could go play, only to be told after she had done more than asked, that her mother had changed her mind. Just because. The little girl who couldn't participate in any after school programs because she had to get home and mind her younger siblings. The little girl who told countless guidance counselors about the physical abuse her mother inflicted, only to be told that children deserve to be punished when they've been bad. My mother dished many years of physical and mental abuse that I need to address rather than suppress because it has shaped how I handle intimate relationships. I don't want to be that woman who gets comfortable enough with her significant other, only to have a breakdown because she thinks he can fix it. These are certainly MY issues, and and I don't want to bring any excess baggage into the union. I'm getting a little ahead of myself considering I haven't had more than a second date in six months, but it's best to be prepared.
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