Year: 2005

Who hast done this blasphemous thing

It seemed just like a regular Monday morning. I forced myself to get up, ate my cheerios, and drove in to work. I opened up my office, turned on my computer, and sat down. But something wasn’t right. Something was different. Something in the atmosphere was telling me that…that…my keyboard was a quarter inch from its usual spot. My computer speakers were turned in a different direction. My stapler, my tape dispenser, my phone, and my candy cane heart; all slightly out of place. One thing was clear; someone or something had been in my office. I started to move my pen holder about two inches back over to where I had it before, but something caught my eye. No! I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it. My desk…….it was clean.

Grow up

It stinks being young. I wish I could just grow up and get on with life. Immaturity is way too prevalent at a young age. When you’re grown up there’s nothing left to learn the hard way, and you don’t have to worry about your eyes getting worse. And there’s no one telling you that you’re too young for things. You have so much freedom, and no one can tell you what to do. Being young is just unproductive and useless fun. And there’s just too many choices, I can never seem to make up my mind…

Cure for the common old

I wish I didn’t have to grow up so fast. Don’t you just feel so old sometimes? Every old person you talk to will tell you how much they long for the younger days when they didn’t have anything to worry about, and would just have fun all the time. When you’re young you can spend a whole day doing whatever and not have to worry about losing your job and your life falling apart. So I’ve decided to put all my resources together, forget about my life for right now, and do a scientific study to find a cure for getting old. I’m not really sure what it’s gonna take, but whatever it takes it better work. And it better work fast too, before I need to build a time machine as well.

It’s what’s for dinner

Does anyone else find cats annoying? They always scratch and bite and make a mess. And they’re so greedy; you pet them a little bit and they’ll forever be begging for more. They’re dumb enough to chase a laser pointer in circles for hours. They get into your food, they get in your way, and they get under your skin. And there’s soooo many of them. Well it looks like I’m not the only one who’s had enough of cats. Apparently the Wisconsin government is finally considering an official hunting season for cats. Time to get busy! At last, I get to show that one cat what the rules are. I’ve always been curious what they taste like, but I doubt they’re any good.

Don’t make me recycle you

It really bugs me when my computer makes weird noises. So you can imagine what was going through my mind when my computer started making this really annoying buzzing sound. It was loud too, and it would turn off and on and change pitches and do all kinds of weird tricks. It would start with a low hum and then jump into a high pitched squealing noise. I found out that a nice swift kick would shut it up pretty good. But then it would just start right back up again in a few minutes. It worked for a while; I’d be doing my usual stuff on the computer and the noise comes on, give it a kick and it quiets down; the noise comes back on, give it another kick. But one time it was making the loudest noise ever, and it kept getting louder. I gave it a kick and nothing happened. Another kick; again, nothing. I gave it a few more kicks in different places, but with no luck. So I decided to open the thing up and see if I could find out what the problem was. One of the fans was rubbing on something making the noise, so I made a quick adjustment. The noise stopped immediately, and I couldn’t have been happier. So I closed it back up and went on with my work, knowing that I had conquered the evil computer noise. But guess what happened next. I can’t believe the nerve that thing had. Yeah, you guessed it; the noise started up again, immune to the kicks and even the same adjustment I had made to the fan. Maybe I should just count myself lucky that my computer isn’t going on strike.

Who woulda thunk it

I just heard the strangest, most pathetic news. I couldn’t believe it, it was that ridiculous. And this even beats the story where that one guy tried robbing a gas station but there wasn’t much money in the register so he tied up the cashier and ran the register himself for a couple hours. That’s nothing compared to what I just heard. So hang on, you might want to sit down for this. Of all the completely useless things people can waste their time on, I found out that somebody actually reads my blog. (Oh, and if you’re reading this, you know who you are.)

Are you convinced?

While I’m in the mood to make fun of myself, here’s some more convincing evidence that I don’t have a life.

-Half of the people that call me at work were trying to reach a different Josh.

-In any given day I can be called any combination of the names of my three siblings.

-I’ll likely share a bunk bed with my little brother until the day I buy my own house.

-Most of my socks are hand-me-downs.

-I got called stupid by a 7 year old girl.

-Someone was complaining to me about having to stare at a computer screen all day. I stare at one all week, all month, and…well you get the idea.

-Everyone is always nice to me; people are never nice to people they like.

-I’m one of only a handful of people in the world who think video games are boring.

-I’ll interrupt a conversation to point out a sign that says Deli Chicken Donuts.

-I instant message my brother at 11 pm while he’s about five feet away from me.

Not your average macho

I can bench press almost as much as my little sister. I have blond whiskers that grow slower than a White Cedar tree (holds the record for slowest growing tree). I can dribble a basketball with the skill of a Dodo bird. I have no clue how a car engine works; I took a geek test and it came out positive; I never get in trouble and I can’t stay up at night. I’ve never drank milk right out of the carton, gotten a tattoo, totaled a car, or been in jail. I never played sports in school and I don’t watch them on tv. I drive the speed limit, and my car wouldn’t go very fast if I tried. I don’t start fights and I don’t have any cool scars to show off. I’m shy and I’m scared of heights, blood, and the dark. I have a desk job and I like it. And to top it off, I make fun of myself in my own blog.

So please, don’t nobody keep telling me that I do things to be macho.

Being nice…unsuccessfully

Once upon a time…well okay last night…I went out with some friends to get something to eat. We decided to go to Subway, only to find that they were out of bread. Who woulda thought that Subway would be out of bread? Anyway, next on the list was Pizza Hut so we marched over there. Since I can never make up my mind, I took a vote on what kind of food I should get. I first narrowed it down to everything that has a picture—I gotta see a picture of something before I order it. Well the poll came out unanimous for the Chicken P…Pr…..Prim……um, one of those Italian words that I can never remember how to pronounce. The picture looked good, so I took the challenge and found that it tasted every bit as good as it looked. It filled me up pretty well too.

But then the horror was unleashed, and the war started. The waiter brought us the bill and I raced to get it before anyone else was able to pay for it. I struggled unsuccessfully through the vicious crowd with everybody tearing at my shirt to hold me back, while they tossed around the bill to keep it from me. I lunged, twisted, and dived, desperately trying so fulfill the objective, and I hurled myself without any respect for my own body and managed to grasp the object with my fingertips. I seized the target with every ounce of strength that I could muster, and struggled to free myself from my oppressors. When I had managed to work myself free, I sprinted to the checkout register, threw my hand into my back pocket and pulled out………..nothing. After all the pain and effort of capturing the bill into my custody, not a thing could have saddened me more than to find that I had left my wallet at home. In disbelief, I felt around once more in my pocket for the chance that there was something there, but again found nothing. By this time the mob was already upon me, but there was no longer anything that I could do. They overtook me, and snatched the bill from my hand. I watched in unconceivable horror as they happily paid for my food, and I sunk into a sad pile of misery. It almost hurts sometimes to have such nice friends.