I’m not typing this, my aide is.

Silly John McCain!  He recently stated he is just learning to navigate the internet, but he doesn’t email.  He has his aides do it for him. 

Well, hoity toity, Mr. McCain!  What else do your “aides” do for you?  Sounds like someone was born with a silver mouse in his hand! 

Actually, he probably thinks that “To Catch A Predator” will find out he’s actually computer saavy and is using the screen name “Touch_My_Cain” to lure all the naughty 13 year old girls by promising them to buy them “unlimited supplies of Bartles and James Kiwi Strawberry wine coolers.”

For shame, John. 

 

OBAMA IN ‘08!!

wackity smackity doo

McDonald’s is going down, friends.  Down, I say!! 

Again, it’s totally my fault for going back to the fast food establishment, but dang it, I had to. 

I ordered my usual Night After Special:  Sausage McMuffin and o.j.  but I was feeling cantankerous and wanted an iced tea, too. 

All was well, I got my food on my way to work and I went to take a big sip of tea, when BLECH!!!!  SON’S OF WHORES GAVE ME THE NEW SWEET TEA!!!!!  As you may tell, I hate sweetened iced tea.  I loathe it, really, so to take a huge gulp of nasty sweet liquid just threw me for a loop.  I stopped, pulled back into the parking lot, and went inside.  Now, this is pretty big for me because usually I would just be all “oh darn it!” and then drive away with wrong food, but not that day, friends.

I went inside and up to the counter with the counterfeit tea. 

ME:  “Uh, hi, I was just in the drive thru and I ordered regular tea, but this is sweet tea.”

McNazi:  “So……you don’t like that, then?”

Silence. 

I wanted to say, “No, i just wanted to drop back in and tell you all what a bang up job you’re doing here at McDonald’s.  Keep up the good work!” 

I looked at the little keebler behind the counter and said, “Actually, I hate sweet tea.” 

She reluctantly handed me a new cup and I got my damn regular tea.

I need some sort of shock collar to zap me when I get so many feet of McDonalds.  Let’s work on this, people.  Please send submissions to:

EZ’s No More Mickey D’s Fund

c/o EZ

Lincoln, NE

Thank you.

 

No one puts Baby in a corner!

As a rule, I think Patrick Swayze is what we like to say in Spain “El Creepo Mundo”, but after I found out he has pancreatic cancer, I feel myself letting my guard down and actually caring for the fellow, mega mullet and all. 

Clever, very clever.

1. Starbucks Coffee
2. Myron Cope
3. Sophie Monk
4. Dumpster Diving
5. Anne Frank
6. Victoria Beckham
7. Michael Jackson
8. Tuberculosis
9. Burger Recipes
10. Visa IPO

A story, by me.

One day, Michael Jackson was dumpster diving with Myron Cope when they came across Anne Frank.

“Hey Anne!” said Michael.  “Do you want to come to Starbucks with us and have some coffee?  I have some killer burger recipes to share with you!”

“Sure, Mike.  Can I ask Victoria Beckham to come with us?  I bet she would buy our drinks and put it on her Visa.” 

“Sounds good to me, Anne.”

The four friends met at Starbucks and drank coffee until their good time was interrupted by Sophie Monk.  No one liked her because she has tuberculosis.

The End.

The goat is staring at me.

Oh, Frontier Airlines.  You and your silly animals on the wings of your plane.  How they make me laugh so! 

I went to California for a week and my airline of choice was Frontier.  Had I known that their gimick was animals, I would have shopped around more. 

Have you ever flown 2 hours with a goat looking at you from the wing of an aircraft?  No?  Well, take it from me….don’t.  I have never flown before and was pretty excited for the flight, so obviously, I want to look out the windows to see exactly how high above my certain doom I am. 

I’m sitting in my seat, which happens to be behind the wings,  peering out the little porthole windows and taking in the view. 

Until I feel cold, steely eyes penetrating my very soul.  A shiver goes up my spine and my stomach churns. 

“STOP STARING AT ME, YOU PIECE OF CRAP GOAT!!”

A picture of a goat has been plastered to the wing of our plane and as I’m looking out the window, the goat is looking right at me.  Mocking me.  Being a jerky goat.  And it didn’t help that the thing had the wondering eyes, so no matter where I looked, the goat was sure to follow my gaze.

I tried to ignore it, but after a while, I started trying to psych the goat out.  Make faces at the goat.  But nothing worked.  That goat was straight from the pits of hell and he wanted to take me back with him. 

I wanted to crawl on to the wings and saw that little buggar off, that’s how much I hated that goat. 

So…..that’s all I have.  I was pretty excited to write about my goat, but uh, as I come to an end, I realize that it was a poor decision on my part because I don’t know how to end this stupid blog.  I just blew my bloggy load everywhere and I’m not sure how to clean up. 

Goats!!

One of “those” people

Here I am, sitting in a local coffee house, on a laptop, pretending to be awesome.

Is it working?

Hell yes, it is!!  Look at me!  I’m sitting by myself, giving off the loner vibe, with my cup of hot java on my right, my copy of “As I Lay Dying” by William Faulkner on my left, and blogging.  For fucks sake, I’m blogging!!  And I feel invincible!!

Actually, I feel like a huge tool and just wanted to write a quickie because I haven’t had a chance to annoy America in a few weeks.  So here you go!  Hooray!

I’m done now.  The emo kids are starting to get restless for a table.

Yay.

Come on everyone, come celebrate with me!  This post marks my 100th post!  Huzzah and jubilations galor.

Ok.  Enough of this tomfoolery.  There are some important issues to address. 

The weather.

In my time as a customer service representative, I have come to observe over my seven years in the business that people love to talk about the weather.  You can have a punk kid with a bright blue mohawk, pierced face, and surly attitude and a kindly old man together in one room and immediately you think “Oh, shoot.  This is going to end horribly” but if the kid plays his cards right and asks Mr. Oldy McOlderson about the weather, it’s like the Berlin Wall coming down all over again.  Puppies will frolick in the meadows, babies will suckle at their mothers teet, and lions will walk with lambs.  It truly is that powerful. 

Why is that?  Weather is the great communicator.  However, to me, asking that question is such a cop out.  Don’t we have anything better to discuss as a human race than the freaking weather?  Don’t we have anything more productive or meaningful to say?  Do I really care what the weather is like your neighborhood? 

Not really, no. 

But yet, the question is asked daily by people I know and love.  My dad is the biggest “what’s the weather doing there?” advocate.  He is truly that curious to know what is going on in my atmosphere that is different than his.

“Oh, well, Dad, it’s uh….it’s nice, I guess.  Yeah, it’s pretty good outside right now.”

“That’s good, Erin.  It’s about 60 degrees right now and it sprinkled a little this morning, but there wasn’t enough precipitation to amount to anything, but we did need that moisture.  It’s been so dry here lately.  Just that little amount of rain really perked things up around here.  Everything is so green now, it’s really nice.  I just got done talking with your brother in Idaho and he said that it was snowing out there!  Can you believe it?  The middle of April and still snowing.  It’s supposed to make its way out east because I just  saw the weather report on The Weather Channel, but you never know.  It could just peter out over the Rockies like it always does.”

Secretly, I think my dad wants to be a weatherman when he grows up. 

But it’s not just my dad that queries about the weather–most of the old men I talk to in a day are also most curious about what is happening outside my window.  And being it January in Nebraska, the most popular question-slash-statement I get is “Cold enough for ya?” followed by a few hearty chuckles.

No, Mr. Miller, it isn’t cold enough for me.  Oh, wait, I see what you’re doing….you’re trying to identify with my generation by making a lame joke.  Oh, ok Mr. Miller.  In that case, yes, yes it IS cold enough for me!  I best bundle up real good when I go out later. 

I really hope that when November rolls around, I get “so, who you voting for?” because, don’t tell Malewitz this, but I still haven’t decided if I am voting or not.  So, if someone asks me this question, I’m going to take such huge pleasure in saying “oh, I’m not going to vote.”  That should be fun.  Especially with pacemaker patients.  Make the ol’ heartrate rise up. 

I guess the moral of my story is please don’t ask me about the weather anymore.  If you’re so darned curious, just pop your head out a window.  It’s really that simple.  If you really want to know what my weather is like, lean a little further out your window and look far away.  If it looks nice, then it probably is. 

Thank you.  And bundle up, it’s cold outside.

What a terrific life lesson!

Kids these days are crazy for Hannah Montana.  So crazy in fact, many are willing to stoop to dangerous levels of lies and deceit in order to obtain covetted tickets to her live shows.

Case in point:  a six year old girl who wrote a letter to win a local contest for tickets.  This little darling wrote a letter that her poor father was over in Iraq and was killed in the line of duty, so in order for her trauma and pain of losing her father to be eased, it would be so super wonderful if she could win these tickets. 

Well, adults are suckers for kiddie sob stories, so they awarded the malicious tot with the tickets.  Incredible! 

However, the kid was found out, probably when a jealous school chum found out and was all “hey, that kid doesn’t even have a daddy and not because he got shot up in Iraq!  Her momma’s a trifeling ho!”  So, the tickets were revoked, snatched from the little jerks hands.

I think this is hilariously awesome and wonderful.  I saw on Good Morning America that the girls mother was being interviewed and was receiving hate mail and death threats on her myspace account and had to shut her page down.  The poor woman!!  Shut down her myspace page?!?  That’s just wrong, America!!  How is this woman going to show naked pictures of herself?!  How is she going to send random messages to random guys to hook up?!?  My god, I just feel so terrible for this woman. 

Oh.  Wait.  No, I don’t. 

This is what I hear roughly 90 times a day:

“Oh my goodness, I completely forgot about my appointment!  Was that today?  Can you give me a few minutes to get set up?”

I think my sock has more long term memory than most old people. 

                                     

Checkmate

Just moments ago, I was upstairs watching some news channel…C-SPAN or whatever, when I saw a ticker go by on the bottom that chess legend Bobby Fischer died. 

I don’t know much about Mr. Fischer, just that he was a prodigy at chess and I think my dad and I watched the movie about him once, but it’s one of those deaths that make you go “oh man, HE died?  That sucks!” 

Bobby Fischer was one of those people that you heard of and have always meant to learn more about but forget about until they die.  Crazy.  It kind of makes me want to learn how to play chess. 

Kind of.