Bien Venido!
Everyone knows there is only one way to kick-off Cinco de Mayo, and that is-
Hungover. So we're throwing a "Quatro de Mayo" shin-dig Friday May 1st.
This party/bar-b-que will not only be a celebration of the Mexico's victory
over Panama for the highest rate of child kidnappings, but it will also be
in honor of Eric Richard Anderson's 28th Birthday! (in addition to a late
celebration of Epstein's 19th)
This is more of a binge-drinking bar-b-que, than a party. We will be
employing our resident homeless guy to grill up some burgers, dogs, brats,
breasts and ribs, along with any other meat provided. If you want to be
"that guy" who brings an absurdly huge steak, seasons it for 30 minutes then
wants to cook it himself -like a jackass- that is fine too.
If you'd planned on going to the Royals game, skip it- because we'll have it
on the boob-tube. Furthermore, I plan on attempting the "1 beer 1 hot dog
(per inning) challenge" and anyone is welcome to join me. We will also have
some delicious B-day cake and assorted finger/snacking foods and side
dishes. Also, I will be contributing my unprecidented creation- "Rusty's
12-layer dip."
You are welcome to bring your own booze and alcohol by-products, but we will
be providing a few batches of 'hop-skip-and go naked' as well as Anderson's
famous HELLO!-Jello Shots. If you're feeling really latino, we will also
have a new adventure of a shot, called the "Live Cougar" -Quantities will be
limited.
In hopes of pleasant weather, the festivities will continue in the backyard
as we have a brand new set of washers (some white trash game that Tom Grams
plays; something to do with KU sports and all-male leap from, I think)...
And finally, Hensler gave some chick the tongue tornado on the dance floor at
Cactus Cafe a couple weeks ago that works for a company called 'Fun Services'
and now she's hooking us up with a dunk tank for dirt cheap, so bring
your fun hat and a change of clothes because everyone will get a chance to
dunk or be dunked. -if we can swing it, the tank will be filled with
tequilla instead of water.
As always the evening will conclude around 10-11pm, then we will debate
about which bars to go to for roughly 45 minutes and then head to Kelly's,
Harpo's and back to Kelly's...
Please come see us on friday afternoon/evening and help us ring in the
Japanese New Year.Tuesday, April 14, 2009
WORK HAPPENS
This hilarious tale was sent to me by a friend of mine, read and enjoy...
So I work in a pretty small office, as the company I work for only has 8 on-site employees. Without giving anything away, it just so happens that the floor plan has all the offices centered around the bathrooms. The atmosphere here is a friendly one, and no one has their office doors closed- ever.
The two bathrooms at the center of the office are singles, with only one door separating the private rooms from the outside world. In my opinion, there is a little too much space between the floor and the bottoms of the bathroom doors, allowing an uncomfortable amount of sound to escape from these temporary work havens. From my desk I can hear the sink, the paper towel dispenser and the toilet flush pretty easily, though never any bodily functions to this point.
So its Tuesday and 930 am strikes, this means one thing for me- time for a duece break. I grab my cellphone, the latest issue of Newsweek and head for the jon. So I'm in the bathroom doing my business, keeping it down, relaxing and relieving myself of last night's lasagna and pineapple upside down cake -along with the occasional gas pocket- letting it slip quietly into toilet below. Once I'm all set, I finish the featured article about how America needs to start spending again and stop hording their money, and I reach for the T.P.
Side Note: My method of post-# 2 clean up involves leaning on one cheek, and raising the other off the toilet seat in order get an appropriate angle on the wiping area. One downfall of this approach, is that it exposes the balloon knot to the outside world- no longer contained by the muffled safety of the porcelain bowl. The second -and less common- risk is that it puts the wiping hand directly in harms way.
So here I am, leaning on my left cheek and cocking my hips to raise my right cheek up and reaching under with a fist full of two-ply. When at this vulnerable angle, in this little bathroom, in a quiet office for all to hear, a leftover armada of gas emerges at full force. Have you ever watched someone trying to get their hands to their face in time to cover a sneeze, but they don't make it and flem goes spraying everywhere... I let rip just one giant fart that seemed to all come out in one burst, sounding like the bark a veloca raptor and feeling as wide as a mayonnaise jar- The fart echos off the walls in the bathroom. Not only is it big and loud, but apparently wet. I suddenly realize, the remnants of my prior procedure are now sprayed all over my innocent generic charmin-wielding hand.
Torn between the embarrassment of being a grown man that has just splouched on his hand and being the new guy at work that just let a giant meaty fart rip for all my office to hear, I waddle around the bathroom washing, wiping and wallowing. Once I'm finished cleaning hands, cheeks, toilet seats, etc... I quietly turn the light off in the bathroom and open the door, I hold my head high and walk cautiously back to my desk.
As I pass my boss's office, I hold my breath and wait for him to make a comment (He is the closest to the bathroom, and a total jokester). As it turns out, he has a customer in the office they've been talking the whole time, hopefully they didn't hear me. Two steps past his door, I'm sure I'm in the clear and I let out a sigh of relief. But then he yells at me to come back and meet the customer. He introduces me and I reach out with my freshly cleaned, but recently sh*t on hand, and shake with the gentleman. After some light conversation, I bid them adieu and walk back to my desk. I sit down, rattled but relieved. I have a drink of water and think to myself- well, it could have been worse...
This hilarious tale was sent to me by a friend of mine, read and enjoy...
So I work in a pretty small office, as the company I work for only has 8 on-site employees. Without giving anything away, it just so happens that the floor plan has all the offices centered around the bathrooms. The atmosphere here is a friendly one, and no one has their office doors closed- ever.
The two bathrooms at the center of the office are singles, with only one door separating the private rooms from the outside world. In my opinion, there is a little too much space between the floor and the bottoms of the bathroom doors, allowing an uncomfortable amount of sound to escape from these temporary work havens. From my desk I can hear the sink, the paper towel dispenser and the toilet flush pretty easily, though never any bodily functions to this point.
So its Tuesday and 930 am strikes, this means one thing for me- time for a duece break. I grab my cellphone, the latest issue of Newsweek and head for the jon. So I'm in the bathroom doing my business, keeping it down, relaxing and relieving myself of last night's lasagna and pineapple upside down cake -along with the occasional gas pocket- letting it slip quietly into toilet below. Once I'm all set, I finish the featured article about how America needs to start spending again and stop hording their money, and I reach for the T.P.
Side Note: My method of post-# 2 clean up involves leaning on one cheek, and raising the other off the toilet seat in order get an appropriate angle on the wiping area. One downfall of this approach, is that it exposes the balloon knot to the outside world- no longer contained by the muffled safety of the porcelain bowl. The second -and less common- risk is that it puts the wiping hand directly in harms way.
So here I am, leaning on my left cheek and cocking my hips to raise my right cheek up and reaching under with a fist full of two-ply. When at this vulnerable angle, in this little bathroom, in a quiet office for all to hear, a leftover armada of gas emerges at full force. Have you ever watched someone trying to get their hands to their face in time to cover a sneeze, but they don't make it and flem goes spraying everywhere... I let rip just one giant fart that seemed to all come out in one burst, sounding like the bark a veloca raptor and feeling as wide as a mayonnaise jar- The fart echos off the walls in the bathroom. Not only is it big and loud, but apparently wet. I suddenly realize, the remnants of my prior procedure are now sprayed all over my innocent generic charmin-wielding hand.
Torn between the embarrassment of being a grown man that has just splouched on his hand and being the new guy at work that just let a giant meaty fart rip for all my office to hear, I waddle around the bathroom washing, wiping and wallowing. Once I'm finished cleaning hands, cheeks, toilet seats, etc... I quietly turn the light off in the bathroom and open the door, I hold my head high and walk cautiously back to my desk.
As I pass my boss's office, I hold my breath and wait for him to make a comment (He is the closest to the bathroom, and a total jokester). As it turns out, he has a customer in the office they've been talking the whole time, hopefully they didn't hear me. Two steps past his door, I'm sure I'm in the clear and I let out a sigh of relief. But then he yells at me to come back and meet the customer. He introduces me and I reach out with my freshly cleaned, but recently sh*t on hand, and shake with the gentleman. After some light conversation, I bid them adieu and walk back to my desk. I sit down, rattled but relieved. I have a drink of water and think to myself- well, it could have been worse...
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