Archive for August, 2008

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Axis of Spam

August 18, 2008

I’ve been getting (a LOT of) Russian spam for a while now, but the asian (Japanese?) spam at the bottom of my inbox is a new treat. Goodbye Viagra, hello ground up tiger penis!!

(If you have trouble viewing, click the image to see the larger version)

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Drinking At Work: Is It Time To Start?

August 10, 2008

Don’t let the title mislead you, I’ve been drinking at work for years.  But this is managed drinking, where I go to lunch once every few weeks & have a couple margaritas (okay, strawberry margaritas.  What can I say, I drink like a sorority girl).  This is not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about buying a bottle of wine, & having at my desk every day all day, and finishing it every day.  I realize, it’s the wine talking (cause yes, I’ve had some of it tonight), but I feel WAY more competent & attractive when I’ve been drinking, & it seems like it could only help my work product if I felt this way every day.  I’d be nicer to my co-workers (and let’s face it, they deserve a break from sober Jonson after all these years), I’d deliver a better (or at least more interesting) product to my clients, and I’d be better looking for everyone who looked at me.  Plus funnier.

I’m thinking I need to find a good 10 dollar or so wine and just make that the daily bottle.  Bring it in, keep a glass at the desk, and spend my days more cordially.  I wonder how long I could pull this off before someone at work actually mentioned it to me. “So… about your drinking….”

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Christ I Hate This Jackass

August 8, 2008
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Daddy, Why Does Your Junk Look Different?

August 6, 2008

While I’m not a nudist, I do sleep nekkid, and in the mornings prior to hopping in the shower I wander the house au naturel for some few minutes.  This was never a problem prior to the arrival of the LBC, but now that she’s here, it’s raising an interesting issue.

I’m far too lazy to maintain an active “grooming” schedule with regard to my pubic hair.  I don’t really pay enough attention to it, and left to its own devices, it’s a little like a caricature of Howard Stern, or perhaps the Congo before deforestation.

Once a year, however, I’ll attack the problem with vigor, clearing out the mess & leaving me shorn & itchy as a lamb.  This isn’t usually an issue, as the missus is the only one to see my goods these days, and after a brief exclamation of “Jesus what happened to your crotch!?!” we’re all on the same page.

But I’m honestly a little terrified to make a drastic change down there now that my daughter’s wandering around.  I don’t like to think of her & my penis in the same day, let alone the same sentence, which is tough because I think of my penis pretty much all the time.  Couldn’t stop if I tried.  But I super extra special don’t want to think about my daughter being confused that my penis looks radically different.

I can go one of two ways with this: Option 1, ignore the issue and let my junk slowly get swallowed up by the encroaching forest of curly doom.  Or Option 2, trim in tiny, tiny amounts, so that the change happens so slowly no one notices, especially no one under the age of 3.

I’m not sure which option will win out, but I know you guys are probably pretty fascinated with this whole decision process, so I’ll be sure to post follow ups when I reach a conclusion.

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I Am Not A Very Nice Person

August 4, 2008

About 8 years ago, my co-workers and I had a series of ongoing challenges at work, & I kept winning & winning, which is really unlikely because I’m not very good at anything, and many of the challenges involved throwing, which I’m catastrophically not good at.  And yet win I did.

Maybe it’s my unfamiliarity with winning, or maybe it’s just because I am who I am, but I took it upon myself to chart the victories in an Excel spreadsheeet that I labeled Rouse Dominance Factor (RDF) and would conscientiously update & re-circulate to my defeated co-workers after each challenge.  The X axis charted the date, and the Y axis reflected how far ahead of them I was in the arbitrary point system we made up to keep score. The invisible Z axis represented my tiny tiny amount of self-esteem.

I’d like to claim that the RDF spreadsheet was the most childish thing I ever did as an adult, but I think even the most casual reader of the jonsonblog would recognize that as false.  For a while, when we had a pool table in the office, and I was the unquestioned pool badass, I would celebrate my victories by sending my co-workers Hallmark e-cards consoling them for their loss like this one.

But being a bad winner is actually just a microcosm of the RBF (Rouse Badness Factor). I say mean things all the time, and I’m not really sure why.  I say them to people I like, and people I don’t, and I say them without thinking at some times and with a great deal of thinking at other times.  In fact, if you’ve known me for a while and I’ve never said something mean about you directly to you, you really should be wondering what’s wrong with you by now.  Seriously, weirdo.

But I’m trying to change.  I’m not stupid enough to go cold turkey.  I’m going to start by not saying mean things to people I like.  Fuck those other people, they can wait their turn.  Once I have a handle on the first part, I’m moving on to… well, let’s shoot for “not saying as many mean things about (and to) people I don’t like.  I’m relatively sure I won’t live long enough to phase out saying unkind things completely, but a significant reduction sure as hell couldn’t hurt.

So if I become really really boring over the next year or two, we’ll have this little piece of self-improvement to thank.