Friday, September 22, 2017

I C BMs

Jonah was concerned about the future. As in, not having one.

"Do you worry about North Korea ending it all? Two madmen in charge of nuclear weapons, and such?"

We were sitting at the circulation desk, coolly ignoring customers. I leaned back, crossing my arms behind my head and chewing on a hay stalk.

"Listen to me, young feller. This current foofaraw is nothing compared to the olden days. Why, back in the Reagan years we had the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over our heads every day. And all while Bananarama songs played in the background! That was true terror."

"So we're not going to die?" Jonah said fretfully.

"Naw. Back in college Andy and I would have some funny dreams about nuclear annihilation. Beautiful, beautiful dreams. Andy, of course, dreamt about heart-shaped mushroom clouds. Though they weren't plausible, they taught us all about the technique of farce. I had a dream about a flash and cloud appearing over the mountains. And so on. All of this seemed plausible because the Soviets had ICBMs and they were targeted at every city in the United State. And once Reagan got into office it seemed there was just the right amount of lunacy for all-out war to break out."

"But now it's even worse."

"No. This stuff is just saber rattling between two demented children. In the eighties we truly had to learn to love the bomb and also Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Nowadays you kids don't know how good you have it. In fact, even into the nineties we felt there was still a chance of annihilation. When I was a telemarketer I used to do all sorts of drawrings. Here's one from about 1991 of some glorious naptime for us all...


"You'll notice that when the nucular blast hits, your eyeballs will pop out, your nose and heart will explode, and your brains will jump like a Mexican fritata in hot oil. So, people, protect yourself--duct tape your eyes, nose and heart! And you should be fine."

Todd came over. "Hey, what're you two doing?"

"Just talking about the Agamemnon," I said coolly.

"Great. Anyway, Jay left early." [Jay was a circulation clerk who's making his debut today in this blog!]

"Yes, he was going to a Rockies game."

Todd nodded. "Well, he took a really huuge dump before he left. There were skid marks on the toilet. I mean, thick, greasy skid marks."

I searched for something to say. Finally, I said: "Super."

"But don't worry," Todd hastened to assure us. "There aren't any skid marks anymore. But they sure were big. He must've had a really big crap. Yeah?"

Todd smiled hugely in his beard.

"You know, I think I'd rather talk about nuclear annihilation," Jonah said.

"Actually, I'm hungry," I said. "Who's up for some Mexican fritatas with a side of Baby Ruths??"

NEXT WEEK: More adventures with the League of Extraordinary Circ Clerks!

Friday, September 15, 2017

My Twitter War with Celebrities, and What I Look Like Now Will Make Your Head Explode, Off Your Shoulders

On Monday I got into a fight with some people on Twitter. Some folk just can't handle my tight science. #prettyfly #whiteguy

First I got trolled by some weird little douche.


I fought back with all I had.


Btw, I wear my cap backwards because it allows easier access to my fun zone. My neck is super long for the same reason. #giraffelolz

Also, people say I look young for my age. #thankyou

#anyway Then some robot lady got in the action.


I couldn't resist firing back with a shitstorm the likes of which has never been seen.


This set off a controversy that made jaws drop all across the world wide adventure superhighway. But at least some hot chicks were digging my mad fleeks.


Then I had the perfect response, and everyone was terrified.


I was getting so many followers and blowing up like a new vacuum!! But then Jim Carrey had to keep it real.


I simply couldn't let that go. I had to destroy him.


But srsly it was a day to like commemorate an shit. And it was my man Sheen-na-na who kept it ultra real, yo.


After all the owning and destroyin' it was time to declare myself the winner. What do you think? Please leave a comment below and validate my existence, yo.


Friday, September 8, 2017

What Mark Ruffalo Looks Like Now Is Insane, People are Freaking Out from This One Weird Trick

I came into work, moaning and groaning. And not in the sexy way (my usual MO).

"What's wrong with you?" Jonah said.

"I spent Labor Day laboring on my new bookcase. See what I did there?"

"No."

"Anyway, I'm an idiot, as we know. I had the same adventure with the bookcase that I did with my office chair. I squatted and grunted and swore and sweated as I snapped the dowels and busted the lug nuts and violated the macarena bolts. The main problem was how extremely heavy the boards were. This was a classy bookcase from a classy furniture store--I guess next time I should just go with the plywood model from wood shop. But first I'll need to build a time machine."

"Why are you talking?"

"Anyway, I torqued my spine and hyperextended my anus in trying to put the damn thing together. After two hours I finally got it sort of assembled kinda, after breaking all the laws of physics. If you come over, don't touch it."

"What?"


"I think it came out all right, considering."

Iris came over. "Greg, there's a problem in the community room," she said. "Water is dripping out of a pipe."

Hunched over, aching, I hobbled to the spot. I managed to look up. A big pipe from under the toilet upstairs had a very slow drip forming. I looked away. Just then poop water splashed on the top of my head.

"Argh."

I hunched back to the work room and rubbed Purell into a rich foam on my scalp.

Jonah looked at me. "Are you taking the Denorex medicated shampoo challenge?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing. Thank you."

"I can feel the poop water getting out of my skull.
On one side, at least."

Just then an altercation broke out at the circulation desk. Jeff was talking to one of the clerks about how refreshed his bladder felt after peeing into his yogurt tub that morning when Aaron "Jillian Michaels" came in with his mountain bike. He wore a bandana on his head, a torn shirt, and bellowed about she-males and where were they??

"Sir, the she-male section is, er, down the street."

Jeff was irritated. All the talk about she-males was interrupting his pee talk! Aaron snapped back at him:

"YOU AREN'T MY DADDY, YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY."

I looked through the window behind the circ desk. Aaron saw me, and he waved. I had talked to him before about the bellowing and he quieted down. Little did he know how small I am on the inside.

Things were settling down when Todd came over. He lifted his leg. There were wet spots and splatters all down his pants.

"This is why you don't get your genitals pierced," he said.

I turned to Jonah. "It's your turn to change him."

JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE LIBRARY

Friday, September 1, 2017

Mystical Connections

Jonah came into the break room. Which was weird since he practically lives there! But I kid.

"I have some chilling news," I said.

"We ran out of bagels? AGAIN??"

"Uh... no. There're some tootsie pops in that torn garbage bag, if you're that desperate."

"YES."

"Anyway, remember how I told you about the novel I'm writing, about the cat? And in that novel there's a character who's based on Pat, to some degree?"

"Mm-maghmm." Jonah said suckfully. "I'm having a love affair with this tootsie pop!"

"I think that's a cabinet knob."

"Is it?"

"Anyway, in my novel I wrote about Pat and the many wondrous things about him, and at a certain point I wrote about the death of his pet starling."

"He has a bird?"

"Yes. A foul-mouthed one, in fact. So then, just days after I wrote about the bird dying in my novel, Pat tells me someone killed his bird by spraying aerosol through his bedroom window. Done by the same person, apparently, who wants Pat out of the neighborhood."

"Shit. Are you killing birds now?"

"I'm thinking there might be a mystical connection between my terrible fiction and reality."

"Please don't write about me. I still have the collected works of Hegel to get through!"

"Well..."

"And you're not going to write about me getting married are you?"

"Ah, on that topic, I finished the drawing of you and Willow. What do you think?"



"Is it finished?"

"Sure. Does it not look done?"

"Well, it's kind of shitty. And what's that on my shirt? It makes it look like I don't want to get married."

"Remember: art is a lie that tells the truth."

"Truthfully, I'm not going to take that lying down."

"Look, marriage is a beautiful thing."

"Don't do it!" came a beardy voice.

Todd came into the break room. He held out his gloved hands as if to ward off police brutality.

"Don't do it," he repeated. "You're too young to get married! Just chill and wait a few decades."

"Like you?" I said. "When are you getting hitched?"

"Sorry. Ain't happenin', hooker."

"But I want to go to a gay wedding!" I whined and stamped my foot.

"NEVER!" Todd cried, echoing through the building, and beyond.

"Look, look," Jonah said, stepping between us. "How about Willow and I have a gay wedding? Will that work?"

I looked at Todd. He looked at me.

"Yeah," we chimed.

"Great. Now who wants to help me finish off these cabinet knobs??"

Friday, August 25, 2017

Snakes Alive! Now I'm Five!!

Pat had a question for me.

"Do you think it's possible that I could pretend to live at your dad's house in Santa Fe so I could get adopted by my yoga teacher?"

"Well, that's not a simple question. Let's unpack it. And then collapse in exhaustion."

Things had not been going well for Pat. He'd been smoking pot with a neighbor across the street and the man had figured out that Pat was transgender--having checked out the size of Pat's wrists and his short stature and other details.

"The other day I was out setting my sprinkler in the front lawn and I couldn't figure out the direction of the Rainbird--so it splashed me and got me soaked. I stripped off my shirt and went inside. I guess the neighbor guy saw my scars under my nipples and he knew what that meant."

"Sounds like you were doing an homage to Jerry Lewis."

"No, it wasn't funny. I fucking hate that Rainbird."

"Right."

"Anyway, someone taped on my door last week a note that said 'I don't care what you do in the privacy of your home but stay away from the children.' Then a few nights ago I got another note with just two words 'GET OUT.'"

"That's terrible."

"Yeah. So my yoga teacher is going to help me put up security cameras here. One up front and another in the back. I also have my shotgun and rifle, but those aren't good for a confined space. I also have my dad's .38 but it's just a lady gun. I really need something with more stopping power."

"Mm."

"But I don't want to leave here, Gregory. I'm freaked out. There's this Mormon grandpa who lives up the street and who knows what he's saying about me. I think everyone on the block is talking about me now. It's so upsetting. I mean, every time someone meets me they're going to think about what do I have below, right? About my genitalia. And it's none of their fucking business. When someone meets you do they go right to your genitals?"

"In real life? No."

"See? They just see you as some white dude. But with me, it's all about what I have in my pants. And I'm sick of it! What's the point of transitioning when I still have to deal with this shit? I've been doing this now for nine years! And I might as well never have done a thing."

I looked at my Latin book.

"I wonder what Cicero would have said about it?"

"He'd probably tell me to get out, too."

"You mean 'ut ex.' Ha, ha?"

"Yeah. So do you think your dad would let me use his address?"

"If you're willing to read about mattress pounding. Dad is always looking for new readers."

Pat stared.

"Never mind. I'll just get another gun."

"Probably the better plan."

HAPPY FIVE TO ME AND THIS STUPID BLOG!!!!

(Just before the Tinkertoy came swishing down....)

Friday, August 18, 2017

Total Eclipse of the Fart

I've been working in customer service for a loong time, but sometimes a customer/patron will say something that will stop me cold. An elderly fella came up to me with a grave visage and said,

"You know anything about book jackets?"

A full five seconds passed as I stared at him.

"Book... jackets?" I said finally.

"Yeah. Book jackets."

"You mean... what are they?"

The man whipped out his first edition of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. "No, how to put one on. I bought this book jacket for my book, and it... does it fold around here? Do you slip it around the back?"

Luckily I had taken Book Jacket Heuristics 101 back in the day. I explained that you just rolled it down to the base and then... Wait, I mean, taped the thing on, and voila your book was now clap resistant.

"Ahh, thanks! By the way, do you have the solar eclipse glasses?"

"No, we're all out."

"Ahh."

I then told him to read something better, which he appreciated!

Then came Jeff. We haven't talked about our mutual friend Jeff F., have we?? Well, we're going to GOD DAMN IT

He came up to me and we starting talking about sleep habits. I told him I had misperceived my clock radio and wound up getting up an hour earlier than usual. (Yes, conversations at the library really do run this hot.) So: ha ha. But Jeff had to top my sizzle.

"I sleep with a blinder on. I'm out like a baby at ten after ten, every night. And then I get up at six. I sleep all night. Well, usually I get up at four to go pee."

"Uh-mm." I looked at my monitor, trying to seem super busy.

"But I don't mess with going to the bathroom. I've got a container right by the bed I pee into! Yeah, it was a 32 oz tub of yogurt that I now use to pee into."

"That's very eighteen century of you. I will now make like it's the twenty-fifth and dematerialize."

"It works great." Jeff proceeded to act out having a night mask on as he pissed into a yogurt tub, his hands erotically fumbling at his groin. "Just do my thing, and then snap the lid on. The lid really holds it in! I had a friend over the other day with his one-year-old kid. The kid was playing on the carpet and he went over to my piss tub and pushed it over. Good thing the lid was on--there was a full load in there!"

"Is there anyone next in line? Hello? Anyone...?"

"By the way, do you have those eclipse glasses?"

"No. Sorry."

The very skinny lady came in. Veins stuck out on her twig arms. Heart pulsed in her translucent chest. She grinned her death skull at me.

"Here are my DVD returns. I love What About Bob," she said. "That's my favorite movie. I'm like Bob. That's me."

"Bill Murray?"

"Who's that? Oh! You mean that one guy? Yeah. Hey, do you have solar eclipse glasses?"

"No. And they'd be too heavy for you to put on anyway."

Then came a lady who wanted to use a computer. She gave me a Duluth County library card.

"You can't use that card for our computers."

"What? Why not??"

"Because we're Duluth City, not County."

"But... but..." The woman spluttered. "I'm an executive!!"

She walked off. Then circled back.

"Do you have the solar eclipse glasses?"

"No!"

Jonah came in. "You're stealing my story," he said. "And that's not how it went."

"Right. Just trying to fill out the post. Heh heh."

"Anyway... do you have any solar eclipse glasses?"

"Grr."


Enjoy your box factory, nerds!!

NEXT WEEK: Five Year Anniversary Post!!!

Friday, August 11, 2017

London Calling

Jonah came up to me and slyly slipped me a letter with a wax seal.

"Just for you," he whispered.

I had gotten back from Chipotle and I wasn't thinking clearly. They had just added queso to their offerings!! Verily, people, it felt like there was an orgy in my mouth and everyone was coming.

"Huh?" I said, still tasting the aftercum.

Jonah passed his finger across his nose.

"Whuzzah?" I said.

Jonah gave me a meaningful stare of his eyeballs.

"Ah!" I said. "Is this an allusion to Lacan and the purloined letter...?"

"No. The allusion is an illusion." Jonah scratched his chin. "Hm? Hm?"

"Oh!" The last of the queso bubbled up from my pyloric like lava from Avernus. "Gotcha."

I gave him the sign...


"Sorry about your Bell's palsy. Anyway, I hear you're going to London with your mom."

"Yes. My mom. Because what's more precious and beautiful than family? It's... Shit, that's Mom calling me. Hold on."

It was an emergency. Mom needed to talk about Twin Peaks. Why was Audrey Horne married to a midget?? Why were bugs crawling into little girl's mouths?? ETC

Jonah had wandered away.

"Hey! Get back here! I need to pretend to have a conversation with you!"

"Sigh," he sighed.

"So?"

Jonah looked off. "What is line?"

"Just ask me how it happened that I'm going to London with my mom."

"Right. So, Greg... [dead monotone voice] How did you happen to go to your mom for London?"

"(We'll clean it up in the editing room.) Thanks for asking, Jonah! Well, it all began when Mom was feeling blue and decided she needed something fun to look forward to in her life. She suggested that I come with her to tour Civil War battle sites on a train. My reaction was swift and giphy."


Mom was not happy. It wasn't very nice of me to keep saying NO. like that. Finally I broke free of the loop and considered further what was to be done outside of saying NO. (Just like everything in life!) So I finally suggested going to London, a place I had never been to, and where Mom loved more than even Oz itself. But the sticking, growling point was Bingo. It seemed our trip was in jeopardy because Bingo needed drugs and so forth and Mom didn't want to leave Bingo by himself-o. But then Bingo went over to Les's house and, verily, Bingo had a wonderful time!


So the trip was back on, and all was glorious.

"Are you sure about this?" Jonah said. "Have you traveled with your mom before?"

"No, I haven't. But I decided that nothing is more important than being with fam-- Goddamnit. That's Mom again! Hold on. What? No, the midget doesn't hurt anybody! Who is that weird man with the hat? I don't know, Mom. I... What? I..."

Jonah reached around me. He took away the sealed envelope he'd slipped me at the top of this post. Then he scratched his ear and walked away.

I didn't blame him.

"Those are the dirty hobos, Mom. Yes, they represent bad things. I... No, it's... What...?" ETC