IÂ’m old enough to remember when office Christmas parties were actually fun. Most people would get themselves all liquored up and do incredibly stupid things. Like make out with coworkers, vomit in front of the VPs and blurt out inappropriate comments about all kinds of stuff they'd later reget. Unfortunately, those days are over.

“Gone are the nights of photocopying one's bare buttocks, groping interns and hauling home a gift bag full of goodies.” more...

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 02:43 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Five days ago I quit smoking. I canÂ’t adequately describe the discomfort, both mental and physical, that accompanies this endeavor. It really ratchets up the pressure. Last night I had a huge fight with my wife and demanded we start divorce proceedings. In the end I decided to just pick up my socks and put them in the hamper, which started the whole thing. I wish I was exaggerating. IÂ’ve got an uncomfortable patch on my ass that does absolutely nothing to stop the cravings.

IÂ’m thinking heroin might be a good substitute for nicotine at this point. At least heroin addicts get methadone.

On another note, IÂ’m anti-Podcast. All of a sudden everybodyÂ’s David Sedaris. Personally, I could never do it, even if I had something to say. In my case it would just be me reading my posts off a sheet of paper. Hemingway would never have gone in for that crap. Then again, he put his brains to the wall with a twelve gauge.

IÂ’ve listened to a few bloggers Podcast and it was universally depressing. Nothing to say, no style and no charisma. They were doing it simply because they could. Secondly, once I heard their voice it was over for me. Too squeaky. Too flat. Too slow or too fast. A dull monotone with no dynamics. It completely destroyed my image of them and put me off their writing. (IÂ’m not talking about you.) I know thatÂ’s wrong, but itÂ’s true.

Maybe I’m too old-fashioned. Or just too old. When I was growing up Abercrombie & Fitch sold fly fishing equipment. They sold clothes too, of course, but it was nice stuff. Kind of out-doorsy business casual clothes, but with more class than the khaki pants “uniform” most people are wearing now. I still have some nice ties from there. Now it caters almost exclusively to the FWRA (Future White Rappers of America) and I’m afraid to go in there without knowing the proper gang signs. Not that I would ever wear anything they’ve got nowadays. I’ve moved over to Brooks Brothers. I’ve got suits or Levi’s and not much in between.

I was thinking last night, as I convulsed from nicotine withdrawal, that some people have really fucked up haircuts. Donald Trump comes to mind. Here’s a guy who’s got more gold than the Vatican and he can’t get a decent haircut. Imagine going into a hair salon and saying, “I’ll have the Trump!”

“One Trump, coming up!”

“How much will that cost?”

“$15 for the cut and $46 for the hairspray.”

And while weÂ’re on the topic of Trump, I think heÂ’d be less of a dickhole if he took a few bong hits once in while. I havenÂ’t hit a bong in fifteen years, but if memory serves, it was the great equalizer. IÂ’d love to see that guy take his coat off, mess up his hair and lay into a pound of fudge.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 09:29 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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