I have spent WAY TOO MUCH TIME screwing around when there are important things that need to be discussed today, you guys. Totally important things. So many important things, I’m going to list them, in a fancy list fashion. Because I’m fancy! Like a tea party or a eyelet dresser scarf with crystal perfume bottles arranged on it JUST SO!
ZOMBIES ARE COMING AND I HAVE PROOF
OK, I know, EVERYONE’S all “zombies are coming! They’re almost HERE! They’re getting CLOSER now!” like the Monster Shouter in The Stand. I know. But I totally have irrefutable PROOF for you that they’re coming because I saw CREEPY GRAFFITI that PROVES it.
Well, it could also prove a lot of things, or nothing, but I totally took it as zombies. But let’s face it, I have zombies on the brain. Tonight, you guys, TONIGHT! The Walking Dead Season Two! Why are you not more excited? I think you might be broken.
Here’s the scoop, so you know that you’ll have to start working on your zombie preparedness kits. I work on Saturdays at an answering service, as I’ve mentioned, because I’m a poor person. Wait, I’m totally the 99%, right? I SHOULD BE PROTESTING. Wait, if I took time out to protest I’d lose my jobs and therefore my home and everything I own and I’d end up living in the dumpster behind the Dunkin’ Donuts. (Because listen, if I’m going to live in a dumpster, it’s going to be a good one. That’s probably a nice dumpster. And there’d be donuts! Only kind of gross ones!) So anyway, back on track. I know, get to the zombies. Hold your horses, buckaroo. So on one of my breaks this weekend, I was in the parking lot and looked across the street at the kind of abandoned nail salon/sell your gold place next door (yeah, they did both, and they’ve been closed for a month and are supposed to open again November 8th but I have my doubts. Also, they seem obsessed with lawn ornaments, and currently have a huge goose with a Pomeranian beside it, as if the goose is WALKING the Pomeranian, and this makes me laugh. Also one of those racist jockey statues which does not make me laugh) and noticed odd graffiti on the concrete wall of their parking lot. And then I realized, well, that’s it then! ZOMBIES.
…and you totally can’t see that at all. Listen, I TRIED. I zoomed in and EVERYTHING. And when I got home, I even tried cropping and shit. But it did not matter. This shows you what a bad photographer I am.
So trust me when I tell you that this says “2012 EXPECT US.” Also there’s a question mark in a box. I decided that’s one of those hobo marks (online someone called them “hoboglyphs” and I like that very much) that I read about once that told hobos in olden times what houses had good stew and what ones would poke you with sticks and such. But when I researched it I found NO INFORMATION THAT BACKED UP THAT THEORY. Zombies are VERY TRICKY INDEED. I DID find that a box with a dot in it means danger and two boxes interlocked means fear. So the box itself? Totally scary. The question mark, I don’t know, maybe scary fear? Zombie scary fear???
I also thought maybe they were trying to cast an Expecto Patronum spell but were doing it wrong, but that isn’t nearly as much fun for me as zombies.
So I think you’ll all agree that “EXPECT US” can’t mean anything but zombies. I mean, come on, I researched HOBOGLYPHS, here, people. Stock up on canned goods and bullets, because zombiegeddon’s coming in 3-15 months!
WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING IN MY WORK ASHTRAY
STILL LIFE WITH FORK AND HO HO
OK, so ALSO on my break, I went to my car and then was checking my phone outside and then looked down on my way in so I didn’t trip over anything and saw something so weird and distressing (but non-zombie-related, so don’t worry, you still have a little time for canned good hoarding) that I OF COURSE had to ALSO take a photo of it. And this one turned out prettier. If by “prettier” you mean “Amy, you seriously need to stop taking pictures of garbage.”
Now, listen, my job is kind of really gross. It’s in an old moldy bank, and one time this summer we got infested with the kind of flies that only hatch on dead bodies (yeah, we investigated it) and also there are weird smells and a sinkhole under the sink (how’s THAT for irony!) and no one understands the “washing your hands after using the restroom” signs so mostly they just use them to draw penises on. So totally gross. I kind of always want to burn my clothes after each shift.
Also yesterday, the words “I can’t get that up, ma’am. NO I CAN’T GET IT UP” passed my lips, much to the delight of my coworkers. It was not in reference to a lady-boner. But after my shift today I can guarantee you I wasn’t getting that up either.
So, yes, anyway. Imagine my dismay when I noticed these in the ashtray on my lunch break (and yes, the ashtray is a planter filled with wet sand, I told you, WE ARE FANCY):
Oh, what’s that? You can’t see what those are? WELL! You’ll be totally glad I zoomed in, then, WON’T YOU.
SOMEONE TOTALLY PUT CONDOMS IN THE ASHTRAY.
But here’s the confusing part. Unopened! Unopened, unused condoms! Did they give up on ever getting some? Did they totally commit to getting their girl pregnant? Did they have a fight with the Magnum people? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS. Also? You can’t see it? But there’s a garbage can literally two steps away from this. Like, if I hadn’t zoomed in on this weirdness, you’d see the trash can. I don’t get this. Was it an advertisement for their studliness? Was it an elaborate joke? WHY IN THE ASHTRAY?
Last year this was on the floor under my cubicle one day over there, which was also confusing:
It was a Ho Ho? And a fork? The Ho Ho was still in the wrapper. And the fork was on it, like someone was juuuust about to have a snack and then they were raptured. Oh, the note? Yeah, no, that wasn’t there. I put that there. For the photo. There was too much brown otherwise. Also, I left the entire tableau there when I left for the day, because I thought it would crack up another employee randomly, and the laughs are few and far between at that place.
The problems with this were multitudinous, but the biggest were, a., who leaves an uneaten Ho Ho? And b., who eats Ho Hos with a FORK?
SOMETHING THAT TICKLED ME PINK TODAY
People still say that, right? Well, I don’t care. It did.
OK, I have been playing with this thing for the past half an hour while I should have been finishing up this blog post AND IT HAS NOT ONCE BEEN WRONG. And the minute I finish up here I’m going to play with it MORE. It is AWESOME. It knows ALL of my favorite things. Seriously. It got Bernadette Peters. Who the hell even remembers who she IS anymore except for me? SO MUCH FUN. Except sometimes it’s a little wrong? And it took forever to guess NPH, and at first, thought I meant Jensen Ackles? And when I clicked on the “Details” button, it thought I should have answered “yes” to “is your character a Hasidic Jew.” Unless I’m totally off-base, I don’t think NPH is a Hasidic Jew. I could be wrong! But I think the media would have picked up on that by now, no?
PEER PRESSURE 1, ME 0
So I signed up for Tumblr because EVERYONE’S on Tumblr and surprise, it seems like a lot of fun. So I guess I should have been jumping off all of those bridges and trying all of that angel dust all along, MOM. So, yeah, if you’re on Tumblr and you want to be my fuh-reeeend, link’s over there on the right. I don’t know what I’ll say yet. Probably profane stuff. I posted a picture of Edgar Allen Poe with cusses all OVER it. Digging it already, even though I’m not sure how it works totally yet.
I LIKE SHOUTING
A blogger who will remain unnamed recently posted her “rules of blogging.” And one of them was, “What’s with all the caps? That’s “shouting,” people. And it’s rude.” HEY. You know what? I KNOW WHAT IT IS. And you know what else? HONEY BADGER DON’T GIVE A SHIT. (LOOK OUT SAYS THAT BIRD.) Here’s the thing. I know how to use italics. I know they’re the classy person’s way of emphasizing something. Thing is? They don’t usually put across JUST HOW EXCITED AND/OR PERTURBED I am. Also, I shout a lot in real life. I don’t ITALICIZE a lot in real life. How would one even DO that? With a monocle and spats? I’m not classy. Can’t even pretend to be. Why bother? I’m gonna SHOUT ON HERE, Fancy Mc Bloggamuffin. And if you don’t like it and think I should be using my inside voice and my coasters and taking off my shoes so I don’t track mud all up in this bitch then I’m pretty sure that little x at the top right-hand corner will take you far, far away from this bastion of hopelessness. Who named you queen of blogging etiquette? Because I find it equally rude when someone tells other people what to do, so are we at an impasse now, or what? Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to put my feet up on the table and pick my teeth with my fingernail. WHILE SHOUTING. Multi-tasky!
Have a lovely Sunday, everyone! I’m off to see Ragtime. Nothing like racism, Harry Houdini, and a girl on a swing to perk up an autumn Sunday!