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Archive for November, 2008

Just Returned Home

Sunday, November 30th, 2008

I just returned home after visiting my family. I’ve had very little sleep, my plane was delayed a whole bunch, and I got to fly for several hours near to a baby who had evidently just witnessed the rape and murder of Santa Claus judging from the amount of screaming.

So instead of carefully reading all of the submissions for the Monday morning list update, I’m just going to select one at random, and post it without reading it whatsoever. I may get my wife to proofread it tomorrow or something, but it just seems like too much work tonight, I’m going to sleep now.

Skippy, your list is awesome. I wrote down a list of dumb things ive done in the navy
and those around me have done. Theres a lot that we got away with, this is just what
we got caught doing

Lockenators list of things i (and others) cant do in the navy anymore

1) not allowed to do donuts in the duty truck

2) even if its dark out and nobodys in the parking lot

3) especially if my license is suspended

4) not allowed to tell chief that his face is a cockpit. even if he says it first

5) especially over the 1mc (intercom)

6) not allowed to do the macarena, the funky chicken, or the hokey pokey
while directing a plane launch

7) not allowed to use assumed names on official documents like tool logs

8) not allowed to tell new check-ins that they need to find a box of “A1R”

9) not allowed to walk barefoot into the hangar with a guitar and a bottle of
captain morgans

10) not allowed to run through hanger in boxer shorts

11) not allowed to wear flight suit thats 3 sizes too small complaing about
growth spurts

12) not allowed to tell pilots that im steve irwin back from the dead to launch
their plane to the heavens

13) not allowed to take pictures of female pilots in bikinis and post on
craigs list as hookers

14) cant call french pilots “flying frogs”

15) cant mention waterloo around the french either

16) cant make a bi-polar meter for chief

17) cant call chief “mother f*cking khaki”

18) cant crap in shipmates boots

19) cant refer to hull technicians as “turd chasers”

20) cant refer to boatswains mates as “bowel movements”

21) cant send drunk booters out around base to find enlightenment

22) cant put “hero of the wastes” on evaluation as accomplishment

23) cant put “built 2 story beer bong” as accomplishment

24) cant try to ask out chiefs daughter over his phone

25) not allowed to refer to galley food as poisoned alpo

26) not allowed to put naked pictures of freinds wife on background of

27) not allowed to use flight deck radio to talk seductively to maintenence

28) a C-2a greyhound is not a “party bus of the sky”

29) not allowed to throw fruit out of the ramp of the bird to try to hit objects below

30) not allowed to hang out of the back of the ramp to take a dump

31) the COs flight suit is not the “king pickle skin”

32) master chief is not to be referred to as “the great satan”

33) not allowed to make stickers that reference petty officer shitting himself

34) not allowed to call people “waste of life” and tell them to kill themselves

35) not allowed to fill camelbak® with vodka and Gatorade

36) not allowed to put naked girl stickers on cranial

Holiday Survival Guide

Wednesday, November 26th, 2008

It’s that special time of year when families get together to eat massive amounts of turkey, catch up on events of the past year, and do massive amounts of shopping come Black Friday.

Unless your family is like mine, in which case you are making plans for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

So in the event that your town is subject to a siege of shambling horrors that thirst for the still-warm flesh of the living, here are some handy tips.

1) Put 1-800-454-8000 on speed dial. If you need to call this number you do not want to have to go looking for it.

2) If you see a bunch of people sprint past you carrying automatic weapons and covered in rotting viscera, try to keep up with them. The movies always show that guy whose last thought is “What the heck are those guys running fro- OH MY GOD_Urk”

3) If you see me sprinting past you while carrying an automatic weapon and covered in rotting viscera, run perpendicular to my direction. Because I will shoot you in the foot to use you as bait. I don’t got to outrun the zombies, just you.

4) In any group of survivors there is usually one person who I will refer to as “creepy religious guy”. He’s the one muttering about God’s will, and how we deserve this punishment, and keeps saying disturbing quotes that sound kind of like they came out of the bible, but you are pretty sure that he’s just making them up as he goes.

No good ever comes out have letting him hang out. It’s only a matter of time before he tries human sacrifice or just let’s the zombies into your shelter. And he always get’s ripped apart in a horrible fashion. It’s best for everyone involved if you just give him a nice clean bullet to the head now.

5) In the event you come across a scientist who finds the zombies to be “fascinating specimens”, or crusty old military officers who start grumbling about “the perfect soldiers” see rule number 4.

6) Make certain that none of your friends are stupid enough to do any of the following: Read creepy old books out loud, open strange barrels with military warnings on them, screw around with angry lab monkeys, or propose any activity in a spooky abandoned mental hospital.

7) Never, ever, under any circumstances, attempt to have sex with a member of the undead. I would think that this particular rule is completely obvious to every person on the planet, but when you watch the kind of movies that I do it becomes evident that it is not.

8) If one of your friends has gone off to be by themselves, just assume that they are a goner. Don’t be the schmuck that goes off looking for them. That schmuck always get’s eaten by the zombified version of their friends.

9) If you hear a sound, but it turns out to just be the cat, start running. There are zombies behind you.

10) Do not take a shower during a zombie apocalypse. The zombies know when you are taking a shower, and they will show up. They also know when you are having sex, participating in underage drinking, cheating a friend, or doing any other morally questionable activity. Zombies are kind of like Santa Claus that way.

Another important thing to do to is, of course, to practice. Which is why I am spending my free time playing Left4Dead. It’s not only one of the best zombie games ever, it’s also one of the best co-op games ever. If anyone reading this has the PC version send me your SteamID and I’ll add you to my friends list.

A Comprehensive Analysis of Sailor Scouts

Wednesday, November 26th, 2008

Skippy’s Warning: This one goes far, even for me. While that warning sinks in, bear in mind that in the past year I have made light of lesbian koalas, forced clown cannibalism, and pterodactyl porn without flinching.

Often within the realm of intellectual discourse, scholars stumble upon a question or a problem unto which no unanimous solution can be afforded. This is usually the case with matters that are seemingly limited to our own subjectivity – our tastes, preferences, desires – allowing us only to “agree to disagree”. And this is generally understandable; after all, while you and I may enjoy pepperoni on our pizza, there is no objective measure by which we can rationally argue it as the best topping.

But there is one debate that I believe is not limited to subjectivity and which has a clear, unquestionable, objective solution, and that is the question of which Sailor Scout is the most fuckable.

Before we can even pursue a definitive answer to this question, we must define our criteria for “fuckability”. “Fuckability” is not merely one’s physical ability to be fucked – as in, a dog is fuckable because it has a penetrable orifice but a slab or marble is not because it does not – but also the degree to which one could be fucked under normal conditions.

Normal conditions are as follows: we, the fucker, are a heterosexual male with typical heterosexual male tendencies. That is, our tastes and habits do not deviate from the typical societal norm. For this reason we can eliminate Chibi Moon from discussion because she is prepubescent and thus not “fuckable”. The same applies to Chibi Chibi, who is both a child and some sort of abstract corporeal entity, neither of which we would normally fuck. Moreover, Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune are lesbians in a committed relationship, so it is doubtful that they too would be fuckable under these conditions. Granted, many scholars theorize most lesbians are just faking and can be broken of their man-hating habits by a variety of simple procedures, most common of which is the standard “deep dicking”, however such matters are still heavily debated. Besides, having to break a woman of her lesbian tendencies merely adds to our wooing workload, and thus decreases fuckability. For simplicity’s sake, Uranus and Neptune will be classified as “Not Fuckable” as opposed to “Ultra Low Tier”.

I doubt most scholars would object to Sailor Mercury and Sailor Moon herself being assigned to our “Low Tier” of fuckability. Sailor Mercury is rarely portrayed as anything more than a frigid scholar, completely absorbed in her school work, possessing few other hobbies or special interests. Yes, you could fuck her if you so desired, but it would be entirely passionless and sterile, like fucking a pig’s fresh carcass–warm, yes, but hardly mobile or responsive. Additionally, her constant intellectual banter would prove tiresome and would create too difficult an environment for any sane man to sustain an erection. The same is not true of Sailor Moon, who is obviously far less frigid and far easier to interact with, plus her kisses taste like bubblegum, which is also a plus. But then why assign her to the low tier? First of all, she is in a committed relationship with Tuxedo Mask; granted, as an adversary he’d hardly be threatening, what with his limp-wristed rose throwing and scrawny build–easily dealt with by a simple shotgun to the face–but being faced with any sort of competitor merely adds to the time and effort necessary to bed a woman. Second, Sailor Moon has a daughter from the future who is not only irritating as all hell but who would also serve to complicate the relationship. We would be obligated to frequently deliver the all too infamous “I’m not your fucking dad” speech and her presence would consistently serve to derail all sexual tension. Why settle for Sailor Moon when there so many other Sailor Scouts who have no such baggage?

Sailor Pluto and Sailor Saturn are among the least developed characters throughout the entire run of the animated series. Other than their looks, which are comparable to that of their other scouts, there is really no criteria by which they can be judged. Obviously, Sailor Saturn is not fuckable in baby form, ala the beginning of Sailor Stars but I must concede that Sailor Saturn under the possession of Mistress 9 would actually be quite the terrifically viscous fuck, with biting and scratching, among other acts of kinky fun. “She definitely looks like she knows how to take a dick,” a colleague argued. However, the fact that she is evil, and the ephemeral nature of the whole possession, still would keep her from being included in the “Top Tier”. And, on a purely technical note, Mistress 9 possession is not default Sailor Saturn, so its relevance to this discussion is questionable. All in all, there is no obvious reason to assume anyone would have a particularly difficult or easy time fucking either of these two, nor anything to imply it wouldn’t be good. Therefore we must default them to “Mid Tier”.

This only leaves us with Sailor Venus, Sailor Mars, and Sailor Jupiter for our high tier. We can justify their presence by first asserting there are no particular limitations in pursuing them; they are heterosexual, they are not in committed relationships, and they have been known to fawn over men. Next, we can see that they each have their own particular positive qualities; for instance, Sailor Venus is the Sailor Scout of love, therefore it is not unreasonable to assume she would be particularly affectionate and amorous, the kind of woman you “make love” to, not just merely fuck. Sailor Mars is a Shinto priestess and has the ability to exorcise demons, which I know would benefit me personally in many ways, and has, appropriately enough, a rather fiery personality. Whereas Venus would fuck with passion, Mars would fuck with fervor, as if she were trying to break your very manhood from your body. Thus we would be foolish to deny them spots in the “Top Tier”.

< But what of Sailor Jupiter? Surely we did not forget her? Of course not, as we have asserted upon initiating this discussion, there can be only one objective answer to who is the most fuckable Sailor Scout. Our eliminative process has restricted our final candidates to Mars, Venus, and Jupiter, and the exclusion of Jupiter from the "Top Tier" can only mean I believe her to be the most fuckable. But how can I defend this claim? Jupiter obviously fulfills the same difficulty requirements as the other two, but it is her unique characteristics that allow her to outshine them. Of all the scouts she is considered the best cook, and while snuggling and exorcising demons have their benefits, neither is as consistently useful as cooking ability. On average, we eat three times a day, seven days a week; how often do we need a good snuggle? How often do we need a demon exorcised? Next, Jupiter is the physically largest Sailor Scout. Not only is she simply the tallest, but her thighs and posterior are the most muscular, allowing her to crush you like some sort of wildly erotic sex vice. Being the most physically powerful you know you could engage her in wild and viscous acts of animalistic fucking. And when she finishes bruising the living hell out of your manhood, she can make you a milkshake or some fudge cake. Being the biggest tomboy of the group, after having sex and eating, and then having more sex, you could snuggle up on the couch and play LittleBigPlanet with her.

Using clear, objective, scientific examination skills, we have found a solution to a problem most scholars would have incorrectly labeled as “subjective”. Remember, readers, all things can be explored through the rational means I have demonstrated today.

Polkster has a web-comic called Polkout.com , which he would like you to visit.

Marty Needs Some Help

Monday, November 24th, 2008

Due to the fact that I have a website that people read, I occasionally get letters asking for my help with something.  Being me, I usually delete these emails because what the heck have random internet people ever done for me?

But occasionally I get a letter addressing an issue so important that I have absolutely no choice but to set aside some time to deal with it.

And this weekend I received an email concerning just such an issue.  The sort of issue that I just could not in good conscience ignore.

And so Marty writes:

Hey Skippy,

Owing to circumstances beyond my control (described here, http://teratomarty.livejournal.com/105530.html ), I’ve recently come into possession of a large box of heterosexual porn, on VHS tape.  Since I’m rather flamingly gay, and afraid of breast implants, I have no use for same.  Since this is exactly the sort of thing Anysoldier.com tells us specifically NOT to send to the troops, I was wondering if you knew of a better use for such a thing.  Either deserving recipient/s or targets for the epic pranking suggested by the sheer volume of smut.

Thank you.  I quite enjoy reading your continuing adventures on the List.


Well first of all despite what those liars at Anysoldier said, I think that a big box of porn would be welcome by most deployed soldiers.  You just have to put the tapes into a case for some other sort of movie like Carebears, Veggietales, or something. That way it can slip past the censors.

But I will leave this question up to my readers, what should Marty do with his giant box of porn?

Things You Should Not Do In Corporate Security

Sunday, November 23rd, 2008

It’s Monday, and here’s your list update. Treat it nice because if you break it, you won’t get another until next week.

(Submitted by Scalexd)
-Not allowed to title my Medical Incident Reports “Stairs = Mass Pwnage”.
-Not allowed to title myself “Lead Security Officer”, “The Security Coordinator”, “The Security Administrator”, or “Security Agent” in a effort to sign more important, even if I rightfully deserve the title (my title is “Security Specialist”).
-Weekday Morning Shift Squad is not 1337.
-No weapons are to be carried on duty, including blow up dolls.
-Not allowed to challenge my Two-time-Iraq-vet Partner to Bourne-Style hand-to-hand combat in a effort to settle a dispute: I will lose.
-Not allowed to drink “Espresso injected with material to give it a extra solid boost” ever again.
-The aforementioned drink does not throw me forward in time.
-Nor does it help me predict the future.
-My call sign over the radio is “A-Six-Five”, not “McLovin”.
-The “Specialist Creed” of the Army, made famous by the Internet, does not apply to me.
-Not allowed to wear my “UR MOM” necklace under my shirt, even if it is a lucky charm that saved me from death.
-Even if I do consider it of religious value.
-Even if I do threaten to call the ACLU.
-Not allowed to tow the CEO’s car.
-That “off-white beater VW bug looking thing” in the CEO’s parking space is not what I think it is.
-Do not put “DO NOT PARK HERE” signs on that car.
-In fact, its not a “off-white beater VW bug”, its actually a RARE classic 1950s-model Porsche and its worth more than the lives of this entire squad combined!
-Not allowed to take my Acura RSX and challenge the CEO to a street race on the day he brought his Ferrari to work.
-Not allowed to tow the expensive cars of “high-up corporate douche bags” I do not like.
-Just because the Nursing Mothers are starting a support group, does not mean I get to start a support group for guys discuss things like “that rash in between my thigh” and “that night at the club…”.
-That dirty white women’s thong we found in the lobby outside the company cafe is NOT mine, I swear!
-Not allowed to not write an incident report regarding the missing chair of a SVPs assistant.
-Even if we did find it.
-Even if virtually EVERYONE IN THE COMPANY HAS THE EXACT SAME make, model, type and is adjustable…
-Not allowed to mention “sexual misconduct” in the incident report of a investigation regarding over half-million dollars in stolen property..
-There is no secret covert war between my dispatchers in another state and day shift.
-Even if they are incompetent 95% of the time and act like they know everything.
-Not allowed to make redneck jokes to the dispatchers, even if they are from a “hick” state (I was born in VA and raised in the Carolina’s so I can make hick jokes)
-Not allowed to talk in New Jersey accents to the Dispatchers to sound tough (“Get outta here!”).
-Not allowed to talk in Spanish to the dispatchers: they don’t know what you’re saying.
-Not allowed to talk in Redneck accents to the dispatchers.
-Or to the visiting engineer from our India office. (They don’t know the concept of rednecks).
-Not allowed to make the sounds of a Mack truck backing up (beep beep beep) even if the badging clerk’s love handles are hanging out from her shirt for all to see.
-Not allowed to watch porn on the flat screen plasma TV display screens.
-Not allowed to watch South Park when the day is slow (in honor of Skippy).

The Trip from Germany to Taszar, Hungary

Friday, November 21st, 2008

My National Guard unit the 139th ROC traveled from Frankfurt, Germany to Taszar, Hungry via bus in August, 1997. In Austria, in the middle of the night, we stopped at a McDonald’s to eat a very late supper. I had eaten at McDonald’s in Germany and Holland prior to this, so it was not a shock to find one here.

In spite of this, it was a surreal scene. The mountain air was chilly and it was foggy. Everyone that worked at McDonald’s was wearing Mexican sombreros and what appeared to be bits and pieces of Mexican peasant clothing from a sitcom. There were posters and signs showing tacos, burritos and more of the stuff you’d expect to find at Taco Bell.

I did not have much time to enjoy the sights and sounds of an Austrian McDonald’s that was stuck in an episode of the Outer Limits.

Sitting behind me in the bus was a fake ranger.  He told us that he had been a ranger and we all looked up to him because of this.  During our bus ride he kept having nightmares and would wake up screaming and kicking, not exactly what you’d expect from a ranger.  Later on we found out that he was a poser – but that’s another story.  When he would jerk awake he would kick me in the back and got me good a few times.

I told him to stay awake so he would stop kicking me, and it quickly devolved into a stupid “did not-did too” type of argument popular among four-year-olds.

Out of the darkness came a voice that told me to “stop whining.”

In the Back to the Future movies, Marty McFly would go ballistic if you called him chicken. At that time, my psycho button was to be accused of whining.

I went zero to psycho in two seconds and yelled, “F*** You!”

All noise in the bus died. I then heard the chem sergeant say, “You need to add “sir” to that.”

No guts, no glory. I then yelled, “F*** You, SIR!”

At McDonald’s everyone else ran into the store to sample the Austrian tacos and hamburgers. I stood at attention by the bus while my captain tried to chew me out for dropping the F-bomb on him. The short version of his rant: I was not allowed to drop an F-bomb on an officer and if I did it again, I would get written up, blah-blah-blah.

My mind kept wandering because the food smells. All I could think was, “could you hurry up? I’m hungry!” Instead I nodded my head and said, “Yes sir,” as if I was paying attention to him.
That night I got a Quarter Pounder combo and also got away with “murder.”

Animal Kingdom Gone Wild

Wednesday, November 19th, 2008

So the other day I managed to find a new story that I just had to share with all of my regular readers.

Australia has a problem.  And a serious one at that.

Lesbian Koalas.

Because I know that your brain is probably choking on that idea I will repeat it.



Before I go any further, take a moment to reflect on how unlikely you were to hear that particular phrase today.

Also, lesbian koala is really fun to say.

But it gets better.  It seems to that the lesbian behavior is triggered by being caged.  Sort of like a women behind bars flick on Cinemax.  Except with koalas.

And when they go sapphic, they don’t mess around.  They form big piles, sometimes up to five at a time.  While hanging from poles.  Which come to think of it, is still just like a Cinemax movie.

But the best part of the article is the scientists trying to figure out why they do it.

“One theory put forward by the researchers is that the females do it to attract males”

Basically a koala is just like coeds on spring break.  Except without the near toxic levels of alcohol, crippling daddy-issues, or constant threat of fraternity rape.  And they are slightly less likely to be exploited by Joe Francis.

And from an evolutionary standpoint it would explain the ears.  They’re basically furry pistol grips to stop the eater from escaping before the eatee is finished.  To understand why this might be a concern you simply need to look up the definition of koala in the dictionary.

Koala:  Noun. A tree dwelling Australian marsupial that eats bush and leaves.

Bonus points: If Joe Franics was to make a lesbian koala movie or website what would it be called?  So far I’ve come up with Hot Eucalyptus Bitches, Rug-Munching Marsupials, and Abbey Winters.

Fa la lala lala

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008

I just got Boomerang, the classic cartoons channel, and it’s sweet.  It’s been so long since I’ve watched the Herculoids or Johnny Quest–the only thing the channel needs is more hardcore 80’s/early 90’s shows, like the Centurions and Pirates of Dark Water and Reboot.

Which brings me to my next point: the Smurfs.  Oh man, I was watching the Smurfs–sober no less–and in some intense moment of clarity–like God was massaging my brain or something–I had this weird insight into Smurf sociology and biology.  You know what it was?  It was the presence of Sassette, the only other female Smurf that sparked this intense revelation.  Ignoring Smurfette, because she was artificially implanted into Smurf society by Gargamel, Sassette is the only naturally occurring female Smurf.  But that leads to a host of problems in terms of Smurf reproduction, right?  How the hell do Smurfs reproduce?  One female and all these males?

Well I’ve come up with a pretty adequate theory, I call it the Thunderdome Hypothesis.  Once the lone female Smurf reaches sexual maturity all of the male Smurfs–save for the gay ones, like Vanity Smurf–enter a battle royale.  All Smurfs enter, one Smurf leaves.  And that champion Smurf, who is considered fittest of all Smurfs, is crowned Papa Smurf and must wear a red uniform, marking his status as leader as well as metaphorically symbolizing the blood of his brothers that stains his very soul. That Smurf then breeds, and the female repopulates the village until she births a female, after which she shrivels up and dies.

That Papa Smurf, or the Alpha Smurf, as I call him, proceeds to rule over the village until the next Smurf battle.  Then he surrenders his uniform to the next Alpha, and steps down, taking a simple advisory rule until his death–like Grandpa Smurf.  Also, Smurfs live hundreds of years–as referenced by Farmer Smurf in that episode where Smurfette was searching for a blue rose–so this event is relatively rare.

So then I started thinking, what impact will Smurfette’s presence have on the stability of the Smurf village and social hierarchy?  You can’t have two Alphas; that would lead to an imbalanced hierarchy and the depletion of resources due to overpopulation.  So I imagine Papa Smurf must have issued some sort of decree where no Smurf is permitted to have any sort of sexual relations with Smurfette; her presence will be tolerated, for the Smurfs are a peaceful people, but she will not be considered a reproductive female.

You know what would be a f!cking amazing Smurf story arc?  So Smurfette has an affair, or is raped, or whatever, and becomes impregnated.  Papa Smurf, realizing what sort of hell might be unleashed upon the Smurf order, announces that Smurfette and her unborn child must be killed–the first Smurf execution in history–to the shock of all Smurfs.  He places his hand on her torso and exclaims, “Within this wretched womb gestates an impure soul.  It must die, for it descends from an unclean magic.  Its birth shall destroy us all.”  Some Smurfs understand, while others–especially Rapist Smurf–are outraged.  An uprising ensues where the village is divided in two.

The Smurf is born, but it’s not blue, no, some unsmurfly color, bearing the mark of its own damnation.  An omen, feels Papa Smurf, who starts pressing ever harder for the death of it and its mother.  Under the cover of nightfall, Smurfette and her followers flee, and establish a second village.

Village 2, under the military leadership of Brainy Smurf, launches a preemptive offensive on Village 1, attempting to assassinate Papa Smurf after it’s discovered that Papa Smurf is organizing death squads to slaughter Village 2 for their insubordination.  “There can be only one Alpha!” He shouts and beats his fist as Grandpa Smurf rubs his shoulders and tries to calm him down.

The assassination is botched by some sort of series of hilarious hijinks, and an all out war ensues.  Smurfs are being slaughtered left and right, it’s bloody, horrific, a war to end all Smurf wars.  Finally, as Village 1 is set ablaze by Arsonist Smurf, Papa Smurf pleads to Mother Nature for aid–who’s forced to balance the knowledge that this bloody mess was started by Papa Smurf’s own hubris, while Smurfette and her progeny are corrupted creatures, unnatural, tainted–she strikes the earth before the invading Village 2 army, dividing the land in two and sinking the second village into the sea.

Smurfette watches on, alone, atop some high perch as the new village sinks; Smurf soldiers are clasping the rocks of the eroding soil, some falling hundreds of feet into the sea.  She turns to the original Smurf village, watching it burn, her vision blurred by tears.  Suddenly, she’s short of breath, choking, falling to the ground and grasping her throat.  Meanwhile, the fallen Smurfs, tumbling under the force of the ocean currents, open their eyes and begin gasping for air.  Their blue color fades and they begin sprouting tubes from their heads: Mother Nature’s greatest act of mercy.  And thus the Snorks are born.

I need friends.

Polkster has a web-comic called Polkout.com , which he would like you to visit.

Beauty and the Beast

Monday, November 17th, 2008

Now when you read the title I’m sure you thought “Great, another Disney fanatic!” And you aren’t wrong, but this isn’t about a Disney film.

This is about me and another soldier who just happens to have the best qualities of a red headed librarian, school teacher, Miss Universe and the super-hot naughty nun all wrapped into one cuddly little bundle.

But first a little background. I used to be a highly competitive athlete. I was a swimming, diving, rock climbing, snow boarding, skate-boarding, biking and running machine. Unfortunately this meant that I also received a fair share of injuries from each sport. By the time I was twenty I had dislocated both my shoulders on no fewer that two hundred occasions, broken almost every bone in my body and had dislocated my left hip no less than eighty times. But I was still quite limber and wiry so I could use these impairments to my advantage for the gross-out type humor. And I could do a very good impersonation of a redneck pig farmer.

Around Halloween two years ago I was showing off for some of my buddies at work and word leaked out that I was some kind of freak of nature that could twist my body into a weird shape and sound like an insane pig farmer. A little later that day I was on my way to a briefing at HQ and this bombshell of an Airman stopped me and asked ever-so-nicely if I would do the impression for her. Well since on a scale of one to ten she rated at least a fifteen I agreed and after dislocating three major joints in my body, folding my arms backwards across my shoulders and turning my voice into a raspy shriek of insanity she proceeded to laugh in a most convincing and distracting way. Distracting because I did not notice I had moved in front of the VCOs office, something I would tend to notice and avoid. Needless to say, he was not amused.

So rule of thumb, if you are going to do something to impress a beautiful woman, make sure it’ll impress everyone else as well.

P.S. The super-hottie is taken now. Her name is Tressie and she got married December 14 of last year. To me.

Shelf Stacker Rules

Sunday, November 16th, 2008

Here is a list of bad ideas from a UK co-op grocery store.

(Submitted by Jason Cyrus)

1. Do not let customers hear you pointing out how retarded they are. This will get you reprimanded.
2. Even if they asked where to put the basket while standing 2 feet away from the pile of baskets.
3. Even if the boss agrees with your comments.
4. Do not undo the tops of twist top beer bottles to punish the anti-social alcoholics that enter, with stale beer.
5. Do not stash cash-checking pens in hiding places “Because the morons in the garden centre keep losing them.”
6. Do not threaten to chop shoplifters hands off.
7. Do not threaten to put shoplifters in the freezers.
8. Do not threaten to imprison shoplifters in stock cages.
9. Do not threaten to do both 7 & 8 together.
10. Do not under any circumstances actually do these.
11. Do no get a pack of straws out and yell “Save the booze!” when a cage of alcohol smashes in the back.
12. Do not actively insult company stupidity for making said smashed cage so heavy it fell off the back of the truck because the wheel jammed and tipped it.
13. Do not push a cage so fast it’s liable to kill a small child if you don’t see them.
14. Do not push a loose stock cage so fast it’s liable to kill you.
15. Remember to secure stock appropriately when you try 14 anyway; a case of fast moving soda to the groin is NOT fun.
16. Do not insult managers when they don’t have a clue.
17. Especially in public.
18. Even when they fully agree with you.
19. Even if staff from the last store he worked for comes in and starts the conversation first.
20. Do not publicly mock other customers.
21. Do not go “Ape shit” at a female customer who’s PMSing.
22. Even if she is burying you in cuss words and is a junkie.
23. Even if she deserves it.
24. When held at knife/gun point and asked for the till do not tell them where the safe keys are because you hope management will get stabbed/shot.
25. Even if they’d do the same to you.
26. Do not ignore standard stock rotations just to get the job done quickly.
27. Even if its awesome to find cans/jars/boxes from over a decade ago lurking at the back of shelves.
28. Do not squirrel away alcohol that is rare and has been mis-priced.
29. Do no reduce items more for yourself.
30. Don’t try to convince managers to support this method.
31. Don’t mock managers when they do it themselves when they think you aren’t looking.
32. Don’t blame a recently-left manager (sacked or otherwise) for overly reducing items you get caught with.
33. Don’t turn off the cameras late at night and play “Dive through the displays.” It hurts when full boxes are buried underneath the toilet paper.
34. Don’t encourage disliked managers to show off their strength by lifting things very likely to injure them.
35. Don’t check the disused box bailer in case you can successfully fake an industrial accident with above manager.
36. Do not play trolley racing with long trolley lines and lots of traffic.
37. Don’t make menacing gestures to youngsters who are vandalizing trolleys.
38. Never under any circumstances chase down shop lifters and give them a kicking.
39. If you catch a shop lifter never try to push him into traffic so he can’t get away.
40. Never tell the police your manager is lying to them when he says shop lifters damaged the main doors in the struggle when it was his fat ass.
41. Never tell said manager you did this.
42. Never threaten the previous night kiosk shift with insertion of miniature bottles in orifices for leaving a mess the night before.
43. Never threaten similar violence for other offenses like not turning off the lottery point so you can’t get accurate printouts.
44. Don’t threaten to put that same shift in the disused bailer for not tying up the magazines correctly so they get left and not taken away.
45. Don’t cuss out the magazine supplier for short-stacking you with major selling items.
46. Especially if a nearby colleague is on the phone with them and you can be heard.
47. Don’t publicly mock fellow employees for being so stupid they must have been thrown down a flight of stairs at birth.
48. Even when everyone else agrees and does so as well.
49. Don’t make said stupid employee cry/want to kill themselves even if it will benefit humanity.
50. Don’t mock employees who come into a Sunday shift with really bad hangovers.
51. Do not hide their orange juice/pain killers when this happens just to see how long they last before they ask you for money to get more.
52. Don’t threaten customers who break jars and leave them laying without telling you, with contaminated products if they do it again.
53. Don’t flirt with customers.
54. Even if they are smoking hot and enjoying the attention.
55. Don’t threaten Chavs/neds/hoodies with extreme physical violence for entering your store.
56. Do not attempt to go through with this threat when you catch them shop lifting.
57. Do not go “Off the deep end” at 15 year old girls flirting with you in an annoying way and annoying other customers.
58. Do not encourage customers to “Slap the stupid” out of the above.
59. Do not tell the customers you hope that burning smell is the store burning down.
60. Do not communicate your avid disappointment when its a false alarm.
61. Do not shout “Woohoo” when the store is actually on fire and start taking bets on if it’ll spread.
62. Do not get pissed at second manager for ruining the product display you made to impress the store manager.
63. Do not rig wine bottles to stick to the shelves on your last week at work so they’ll slip and break when you aren’t there.
64. Do not put items through as waste “Because no one buys it and I need more shelf space.”