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Saturday, May 26, 2007

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Gary
Every once in a while something will remind me of a girl I once dated, and I can't remember her name, or what period of my life that was in, and I have to struggle for a long time to recall anything about her, and then at some point I'll realize that I had dated her for like 6 months!

Holy crap what a stud! Either that or early onset Alzheimer's. Sorry dude.

messiestobjects

Oh come on... everybody does that! You're this crazy twisted lifelong married monogamist, so, you don't know.

Tim

What's the pay like in them Alaska jobs?

messiestobjects

Usually they pay a pretty regular hourly wage, but they work you 16 hours a day, 7 days a week, so it's the overtime that you make the money on. It's not really worth it for the money, per se, plus it's seasonal work. It's more for the experience. I came away with about $4,000 after 2 months work.

If you can get on a crab boat, you can wind up making some really good money. But again, it's seasonal, and crab boats can be wicked dangerous.

Gary
Oh come on... everybody does that!

Everyone is a crazy twisted man-slut that can't remember the girls they use and toss away? Yeah you're probably right. hehehe

messiestobjects

No, everybody forgets stuff... in my case it's more attributable to poor memory than ever having been a man-slut. I was usually the one being tossed away anyway. You married your college girl, so, you don't know. Perverted monogamist. That's so Christian of you.

Miss Luongo

I forget people I dated. I tend to block from memory gross lapses in judgment.

messiestobjects

Nicely put.

Gary

If you had like Scott Gocek numbers I might believe that you've forgotten about some of the girls you've dated... maybe you do have Scott Gocek numbers. hmmmm...

I was never any good at dating, and girls have never liked me. So I'm lucky that I found someone that likes me and doesn't want to kill me on a daily basis.

Heather

"I can't remember their names! When I'm old, all I'll have left are random sex memories! Waaahhhh!"

Puh-leeze. Wake us up when you have an actual problem.

messiestobjects

Reading comprehension isn't your strong point, is it?

Heather

What? What happened? Who is this? Where am I? Comprehension you say? Is that like when the monkey can curl its tail around a branch?

Heather

Also, I am 400 years old. And let me just tell you: the first 100? I didn't know what the hell was going on.

Heather

What Gary was saying struck me as funny for a second, so picking on you seemed like fun at the time, and I was reading the comments more thoroughly than the post. Hard to believe!

Miss Luongo

I suspect you're referring to the double meaning of "gross," eh? (Nudge, nudge.)

messiestobjects

Yeah yeah, picking on me never ceases to amuse, I know.

Gross was one of my ex-girlfriend's last names actually... A couple of years after we broke up, I heard that Trinity (her name) had married a chainsaw artist (you know, those guys that carve bears and whatnot out of logs for the tourists) somewhere out in Arkansas or something like that with the last name of Butz. So, Trinity Gross-Butz. True story.

So, it's a triple entendre.

Gary

hahahahaha that's the best name ever.

I want one of those giant bears for the entrance to my driveway. There's a guy write down the 209 about 2 miles from me that sells/makes them and other chainsaw animals. One of those things would scare the shit out of people at night.

messiestobjects

You can probably just buy one at Country Junction these days... that place is horrendous. County JUNKtion.

I'd never been in there before, and when I saw the phony outhouse with a dummy dressed up like some sort of twisted prospector sitting in it with a recorded message of him telling some ludicrous senseless pointless story when you open the outhouse door on him on sale for $5000.00, I had to leave. That thing actually made me viscerally angry.

You could have built that thing for $200 and hired a homeless bum to sit in there telling pointless stories for far less money than that.

Heather

Gross, you say? WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE, SAY NO MORE!

I knew a guy named Trinity. He, Dave Pentz and I met Tori Amos in Philly after a show that we had (maybe) eaten mushrooms during. So she was even more elfin to us than she probably is anyway. Delightful.

Heather

I guess I meant "Deeeeeee-Lite-ful." Because when you're on mushrooms, groove is in the heart, my babies! Now fetch me a blacklight and some platform shoes!

Miss Luongo

Country JUNKtion! Tell about the outhouse prospector in a post so I can find it whenever I need cheering up.

Heather

I've been trying to leave a comment all day, but Typepad said it was down so I'm doing a test comment first to check...

Heather

OK. What, in the name of God, is a Country Junction? Is it like Conjunction Junction? Does Bob Thoreau work there?

Gary

Is country bumption back? The really big one out on 209 burned down (of course like everything else). It was really sad, because the puppies and a bunch of other animals died.

messiestobjects

There's a Country Junction out in Win... wait a minute. I'm not advertising for those low-rent Wal-Mart-wannabe puppy-killers.

Sissy

I am a bad e-friend. I now remember the tag but at the time, I was in the middle of everything and flew out the door for the weekend...yadda, yadda.

IGA! Hip hip horray for the IGA!

Your job list wasn't boring at all. I forgot one on mine - telemarketer with two different companies. And let me say that I forgot about it with good reason! (the way Julie forgets the nasty boys she dated)

What's funny is that I tell the funniest of all funny Julie and Saranne stories at least 15 times a year and the story takes place during a summer when I was a telemarketer, yet, my employment status never makes its way into the story. I was also a student that summer and that doesn't come into play in the story either.

Let me know if you need a ghost post because the story involves drugs and I can't go smearing Julie's good name in a puddle of drugs all over my blog.

messiestobjects

Hey! I totally forgot my telemarketing jobs, too! See, THAT'S what I'm talking about. I spent some time telemarketing for the Shawnee resort's condo packages and there was another gig where I was selling timeshare in Florida, from the Poconos.

I hated those jobs with a fiery passion. That must be the reason we'd put them out of our minds... sort of like aftershock amnesia for self-preservation.

I suggest telling your story over at Julie's place. Not that I don't love your stories, but you might get a more appreciative audience over there. Someday when you come down here to visit her and we all go out for some very responsible and sober-minded fun, you can tell about the wacky adventure we're sure to have then.

Sissy

Responsible and sober-minded fun? I am breathless with excitement. I am on the edge of my seat waiting with baited breath to partake in responsible and sober-minded fun. Woo. Hoo.

One of my telemarketing jobs was for the PSU Alumni association. We had headsets and computers equipped with automated dialing systems. I'd sit for four hours a day and hang up on people when they answered their phones. To discourage this behavior, every half-hour my supervisor would wave a chocolate bar over our heads and announce that the next person to get a pledge got the chocolate bar. I continued to hang up on my potential pledge-givers.

messiestobjects

I know, right? You don't realize until you become a mature 30-something adult how good and right and fun it is to have safe, responsible, clean and sober outings with your other 30-something friends and talk about things like property values and babies. 30-something tea parties are soooooo rockin'.

When you come visit us in the poconos, be sure to bring lots of pictures of your kids, and your own electric blanket.

Gary

I hope I'm not invited.

messiestobjects

No way. You're too controversial. You're only invited if you take some Soma before your arrival.

Gary

the fictional drug? how does one do that?

messiestobjects

Proper editing.

Gary

I think I like tequila better.

Sissy

Gary, although I will ruffle my feathers here and there on the Internet, controversial people get ignored in my physical presence. What they don't understand is that being controversial stages them as the center of attention. Hard to do when I am clearly the center of all socially interactive attention.

Heather

Byotches, please. I am the center of all things. I had an Ultram with ciders this evening, and lemme just tell you: I felt pleasant. Never mind that I typed this comment 3 times before it made sense. Which it does now. I think. It does, right? Whoa.

Does is an awesome word. I'm staring at it like it means lady deers. Tremendous.

Gary

yeah...

messiestobjects

The word "Byotches" is hereby banned from my blog. There will be no Byotching on MY watch.

You've been fairly warned. The blog police are watching.

Gary

careful man or she'll throw a BOO YA at you or a "broheim" - maaaaaaang! doy!

messiestobjects

Oohh, you're right. Yikes. What I'm actually afraid of though, is another "My Babies". I don't really mind Boo Yah, as that is an official Hypertrekking exclamation of accomplishment and I've been known to Boo Yah myself from time to time, but "My Babies" makes my teeth clench and my neck hairs salute.

So while I'm at it, in the name of all that is merciful, no more "My Babies", either. Any infraction might actually warrant an IP block, 137 Hail Mary's, and a bitchslap.

Gary

to me boo ya is a marines thing or like a frat guy thing. It's a guys that always wear baseball hats thing.

my babies is from Conan O'Brien

I often picture Heather pulling her hips with invisible strings... and with a big red pompadour.

BLOG POLICE

"The word "Byotches" is hereby banned from my blog."

This notation has been documented and recorded under the Terms and Usage Amendment regarding inappropriate dialogue and will hereby be acknowledged as a violation of privilege within said domain. Under any and all circumstances, necessary action will be administered in the event and presence of text content containing the term, byotch.

Effective Immediately.

messiestobjects

...um, thanks. I appreciate the help, but I can police my own blog. I'm a multi-tasker. Although if I need an offender beaten, you can help with that. The more batons the merrier. I'll call you. Blog11.

Yeah, the Boo-Yah thing IS very fratish, isn't it? Ah well, I have different associations with that word though. It's meant to be used when, on a ten minute train stop in some obscure German town at 1 am, you run outside to find the town church, slap your hand on it and shout "50 points! Boo Yah!" and run back to the train before it leaves you behind.

Good times.

Miss Luongo

Just to clarify: No stories of my drug use and no use of outdated urban slang? I'm down with that. Wait, can I say I'm down? I'm hep to that vibe? I'm feeling you? Well, whatever. Can I say whatever? Sheessh, with all of the catch phrases, it's a wonder anyone understands us. Nevertheless, I like the rules. They make me feel safe and loved (and naughty when I break them).

messiestobjects

Whatever dude.

Gary

you go girl!!

Heather

WORD. Ha ha ha ha. Suckers.

Heather

I've never said "m* b****s" on this blog, have I? I would like to see you try to bitch-slap me, though. And then? I'd like to see you get up and try again.

Sissy

Boundaries are good.

messiestobjects

"I guess I meant "Deeeeeee-Lite-ful." Because when you're on mushrooms, groove is in the heart, my babies! Now fetch me a black light and some platform shoes!"

Call me a censor Nazi, see if I care. Standards are standards.

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