A tired old played out Internet has-been, since 1996
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Next, i am treatted to 20 minuts of the Nose Pickor screamin at me. Did you ever see the Far Side cartoon where this guy is yelling at his dog? In the word bubble he is saying,:
"Blah, Blah, Blah, GINGER, Blah, Blah, GINGER, Blah, Blah..."
...And the caption of the cartoon is, "What Ginger hears when she is gettin hollered at," or somthin like at.
Well thats exactley what I was hearing. He kept goin, "Blah Blah Walter, Blah Blah Walter," howevor I DID in fact hear the last thing he said becuase it stuck out at me:
"...and if you DON'T get it fixed by the next time I have to fart, there will be a Walter-shaped hole in the wall."
The next thing he did was call in my boss, (the anoying perky talkattive pain in the ass womon, who also hapens to have the gross habit of eatting Miracle Whip straihgt from the jar), and reppeated the last five minutes of his grandiose speech he just made at me. Of cuorse there was speciel emphasis on that final line of his, abbout there bein a "Walter-shaiped hole in the wall."
Do you know the tan colored fabric that they put on cubicol dividers. Well, mine has streaky stains from hand soap and sureley some e.coli bacterria as well.
So the whole time he is holloring at me with my boss in the room, (half holloring at her as well), he keeps reppeating the danm Walter-shaped-hole-in-the-wall line, ovbiously proud that his pea sized brain had thuoght it up. He blamed my boss sayin how it was HER fault that I messed up, being that she is my boss. I appollogize for the proffannity here but it was his direct quote that if bolth of us didnt imediatly get our shit togethor we woud both be throuwn out of there on our ass. YES, lose our jobs. And this was all because I sent a few files, (by acident, NOT on purpose) to the live web server.
The probblem is that they are scared to death of putting the website "live" on the internet, becuase some idiot in there legal deppartment (actualy a clustor of key iddiots) feel that by creatting a website, they will be "exposing themselvs".
Meanwile, all the danm website consists of, (the proposed website, the one that YORES TRULY sent up by misteake), is their company's print litterature. (Yes, thier existing print littorature, the same broshures and stuff you can get in the stores), ecxept that the web marketing monkeys in our company charged them a crapload of money to drop HTML code in it to 'repurpose' it for the web.
In any case, I haveto admit, it was somwhat worth it to see my boss squirm, even thuogh it was a houmilliating trip to the wood shed for us both. She had house payments to make and sureley needed her job more than I need mine. Me, they are paying crap. Its not like I'm goingto get alot more poorer if I am fired from Cyberblop.
Me and my anoying boss went back to her office to "re-group and refocus" or some such crap like that. The whole staff looked at us as we walked by, and whispored stuff, probly cruel mean stuff and sureley about us both, though I didnt hear none of it.
In adition to an anoying perky pain in the ass voice and a warty little toadlike face she is short and dumpy with a big chest and a flat ass and is shaiped like one of those squat, fat, flat bottomed icecream cones and alwayes wears these high heels which are much too high and spindley and so the effect is as if you took a watormelon and balanced it so it teetered and tottored on two pushpins. I dont know how the hell she stays up there on those heels withuot falling on her danm butt.
But even so she does. Pain in the ass that she is.
It is alwayes very noisy down there becuase of the echo but she shut the door and began talking in this very low tone abbout how it was ME who screuwed up, NOT HER. Then I said, NO, we bolth screwed up -- becuase the Nosepickor was also chewing her ass out because her budget was all messed up, and beleive me when I tell you that her bugdet was somthing I did not touch. (I woud give myeself more money if I did).
More awkword moments went by. We sat in silence while outside the barking and hooting of the java programmors echoed loudley, sounding like Feeding Time in the deepest vaults of the basement of the zoo where they keep all the deranged and defourmed animols who arent allowed outside for the generol public to see. It sounded like they were on aftornoon break playin indoor frisbee or hackey sack.
Frankley I think Granps takes both sides of the isseu for one of three majer reasens:
Perhapps it is a combonnation of all three. I woudnt put it past him.
He changes his mind allot and is eithor too stupid or too senile to know He simpley loves to scream He loves to bust my friggin chops
The pompous condessending arrogent old stuffed shirt snob, (Granfather, not Mr. Jenings) told me the othor day that it was probly an effert on the part of the native Canadein ABC news Anchor to NOT be mistaken for an American thanks to the Clintin sex Scandols.
I walked in just as they showed footege of the President returning from vaccation. Mr. Clintin was waving to the crowd, his extra portly-sized blazer flapping in the breeze, walkin across the lawn, biting his lip, nodding slightley, his eyebrouw furrowed and raised just a tad, and making that little boy face that gets Granfather so mad all the time; that sympathettic, puppy-doggish, sad upside down little smile, while in the backgruond the news repporter said in a voice-ovor abbout how his aprovol ratings amongst votors were still doing quite well dispite the revellation of 37 private meetings in the Orol Office with an unpaid intern which culmonnated in a One Gun Salute.
"APPROVAL RATINGS MY ASS," he screammed. "WE ARE NOT THE FRENCH, GARRDAMMIT: WE ARE AMURRICANS.
THIS STUFF IS S'POSED TO PISS US OFF."
The old basterd then went on a rambolling rail of abuot 20 minutes on how immorol sex is wrong and how he reffuses to join the rest of the nation as annothor one of the president's "codependent enablers."
I took annother close look at Granfather sittin there on the couch, and then I reallized somthing: