Friends, Honestly---

This needs to stop. Enough.

You're little children, that's all you are. Children.

Kool K-9

New format, please excuse site renovations.

Badass.

Customer/Brilliant Thespian of the Week

Mr. Richard Dreyfuss, who stopped in long enough to do an impression of himself before buying a copy of The Sexual Life of Catherine M.

Moral lesson to learn from this event: Richard Dreyfuss loves orgies.


"I was in Jaws!"

Please Clarify

Do I actually qualify for food stamps? Not that that's so hard to believe or anything, but the issue came up in conversation at work the other day.

[I don't actually know the prevalence of government assistance at the Strand. People make me uncomfortable, and I tend to avoid conversations with any degree of personal intimacy beyond whether or not I should grow a Tom Selleck moustache. For the purposes of this discussion, let me make it clear that I'm addressing this issue only in regard to the young twenty-somethings that float in and out of the Strand within a few days, weeks, or months, and not longer-term workers with, oh I dunno, kids or spouses or that kind of thing. You know, people that capriciously spend their money on trivial matters like shoes and diapers, as opposed to, say, jug wine and Interpol tickets.]

So within that demographic: is it clever maneuvering to suck off that fat, milky-white government teat, or just time to get another job? It seems like in the time it would take to file the necessary paperwork, you could just fill out a few applications to Urban Outfitters and Starbucks (I say this with minimal irony-- you get benefits a lot quicker, and unlike Strand, you get to wear a sweet apron).

Oops, almost forgot-- blah blah blah I hate my job blah blah grrrrr blah fuckshitpiss BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. Blah.

Re: Board Game

$75.00 on a stupid fucking ring would wipe out my entire checking account and erase my brain.

When I finally quit or get fired, I'll see what I can do about throwing a "Strandopoly" prototype together. Then the Big Bucks are as good as made. . . and spent. . . on whores.

"I Cannot Stress This Last Point Enough!"

"Who is responsible for this? I said 'sundry Chilean black-market baby-parts', not 'tiny white novelty cardboard box!'

. . . And for God's sake, get me more femurs!"


(sooooooooooooo bored.)

Okay Motherfuckers, We're All Doing Jello-shots

Strand Spring Break is here. Just because you work 40+ hours-a-week for no money and no good reason doesn't mean that you can't be in Cancun.....in spirit.

I, for one, defy anyone to work as little as I plan to in the coming week. Month. What have you.

The moratorium on Hawaiian shirt use has been lifted; heavy consumption of girl-drinks is recommended during any and all work hours; Caribbean music, however, is still off-limits, because I hate that crap.

If you would like to be part of the Organizing Committee, contact me with a letter of interest. Currently there are two (2) positions available for people to stand on either side of me and prop-up my dead fucking body "Weekend at Bernie's"-style.

[Schedule Update: The Wet T-shirt Contest will be combined with the Luau when I spray Nancy with kerosene and stick an apple in her mouth.]



Woohoo!

Sublimation via MS Paint

From reader "Danzig" (cute), who apparently did this at work. Kudos.

'Bout sums it up for me.

[click to enlarge]

"It's either quit or this."

Winner Announced

...for the Best/Worst Tattoo on a Strand Worker Competition.

The winning entry reads, in plain text:

Better to die on your feet than live on your knees.

I hear tattoos keep their color longer if you soak them in irony for nine hours a day.