I just saw the new version of this commercial, which has been running since 1894, featuring the age defying blah blah blah buy our stuff.

The thing that caught me was that her skin was flawless even though she's a hundred and fourty eight years old.

I guess this is supposed to make you think how well the product works, but mostly it made me think they must have hired Lucasfilm to get her to look that young.

It actually ended up being very distracting. Instead of thinking about their product I ended up thinking about what the last movie was that I saw that actress in.

I think it was Groundhog Day.

Desperately Seeking Relevance

Posted by nerdpulse | 5:19 PM | 0 comments »

Just listened to a new song from Eminem called "The Warning" which disses Mariah Carey over their brief romance.
Apparently she denies that they were ever together, so then he says, "nuh-uh girlfriend" and releases this song explicitly describing their relationship, including his premature um….finish to their only time humping.
I used to love Eminem. I used to like looking at Mariah Carey. But this smacks of over-the-hill shenanigans and attempting to remain relevant in a world that's moving on.
Marilyn Manson tried this a while back, attempting to create more controversy to boost his popularity/relevancy under sagging record sales. How'd that work out for him? Haven't seen him in the news or on the celebutard shows for years now.
Yo Em, take it like a man and move on. Mariah, you're fat and I think you might be legally retarded. Just shut up and fade into the background already.

Check out the pictures. Guess what that means.

Didn't get it?

That means my motherf*cking truck just broke down on the hottest motherf*cking day of the year in RUSH HOUR FUCKING TRAFFIC!!!

Did I mention it's hot enough to cook your face off in 13 seconds out here?

So I'm cruising to work, AC pumping, hoping traffic's not bad, when I hear a *poff* sound and the engine dies. I'm in the left lane on a 4 lane freeway.

In situations like these, you have to think quickly or you could get in trouble even more quickly.

So I put on the blinker, and with the lord's name on my lips, a shriveling scrotum and a butt taking a bite out of my seat, dive across to the shoulder.

I get three honks and one smoking brake stand from my fellow commuters, but I made it.

I called Speed's Supertow, and they had someone here in 5 minutes, and also cut me a deal because I told them I was low on fundage, so there's the silver lining.

After calling in to work, my boss calls me back to let me know to take the night off and take care of my situation. That was nice.

Now I get to go home and see what the damages are.

I hate Mondays.

So, Andre Miller is now a Blazer, that's pretty awesome. I like the guy, and even though his skills are on the decline, he'll be a good steadying hand for our young team. Plus the 3rd year on his contract is a team option, so if his abilities really go in the shitter we can let him go.

Changing subjects, for my current job in the Wells Fargo Phallus I have 2 options. Either pay $10 per night to park in a garage, or park across the river and ride Portland's MAX. I do both, depending on my tolerance that day for the sweating masses. (On a side note, I think it's pretty gay that I don't get access to the WF employee garage, WTF is that?)

On my way home on the MAX today the tram breaks down, leaving hundreds of people with only one thing in common stranded. That one thing? Anger. Everyone's annoyed as shit. Firstly, that the MAX is stuck, secondly, that they have to ride this giant smelly tube of bacteria twice a day.

It only takes 5 minutes of sitting stalled for the drunk hispanic fellow to start bitching, adding to everyone's already chipper mood. The conductor gets on the intercom, tells everyone to hold onto something, we're moving again, and we go one stop before breaking down again.

At least at the next stop we get some entertainment. This week is Portland's famous Brewer's Festival, which is located, you guessed it, right by the stop we're stalled at. So we get treated to the antics of the realistic lesbian (who is nothing like the ones who run atound in my head, they don't have mullets and weigh >200 lbs) who's had plenty too much to drink. Yay.

Add to all this that I have a borderline migraine and once I get off this train i'll get to drive in rush hour traffic for another hour. Life is good.

At least I can write while hating it. Does that come across at all?


Posted by nerdpulse | 8:43 PM | 0 comments »

So I'm driving to work today, and an older gentleman in front of me waves out the sunroof. Not quite a wave, but sort of pointing, but not directly at me. Then I realized what he was doing. Flicking a booger out the sunroof. I'm unsure whether it hit my car or not, but it was quite disgusting.
At first I was angry at this guy, but then I started pondering. What is the proper technique for booger disposal while in the car? Have I done this myself? I think we all have. There's nothing worse than a whistling piece of nose candy shuttling back and forth with your inhales and exhales, threatening to tumble from your nostril at random, and generally annoying the living shit out of you and anyone within hearing range.
In such situations, you've got to do something.
I would say the first thing would be to find a napkin, kleenex, paper towel, anything disposable.
If none of those are available to wipe it on, move on to the second tier of booger disposal, which would be anything removable from the car. Garbage, paper, your kids, etc.
Lastly, if your car is bare bones empty with absolutely no other options, I suppose you'd have to do the flick and wipe. Flick out the window, wipe the residue on your sock or something. If you're the Bruce Lee of nosepicking, you can try the classic Snot Rocket, but this has been known to backfire when not only does your boog fly out, but a backflow of snot sprays out in a shotgun-like pattern all over the door upholstery of your car.
If you do take option three and do the flick and wipe, at least make sure there's not a car behind you with a guy who's going to write about how you flicked your booger out of your sunroof, all while carrying on a conversation with your wife, completely oblivious to the consequences.
While this is a lighthearted story, had his green gold been seen hitting my car, we would be having a different conversation entirely. Chances are, the entry headline would have read something like, "I Killed A Man Today…."

Customer Service Douchebaggery

Posted by nerdpulse | 8:08 PM | 0 comments »

Observation of the day:

If you're unhappy with your job, and your job entails you serving the public all day every day (i.e. Starbucks Barista) you should do us all a favor and quit. It can't be hard to find a job at least equally demeaning sans the customer interaction.

Then, when you think about returning to customer service, instead you should jump in front of a speeding minivan.

That way, when I go to get my cup of coffee, you're not polluting my good mood with your self loathing and bitter feelings about your stature in life.

This goes out to you, mid twenties chubby brunette female barista at the 3rd & Jefferson Starbucks.

My sister emailed me today and said one of her middle school teachers thought my writing was very clever, or something like that.

This caused a fair amount of surprise for me, usually the feedback I receive uses words like "insulting" "lowbrow" and "idiotic" copiously.

I kid, hardly anyone reads my blog, mostly because my lazy ass hasn't been posting. However, I would like to thank middle school teacher lady for her effusive praise.

Now that my holiday from blogging has officially been broken, I would like to write a bit about something I hold near and dear to me. Corporate employment. That's right boys and girls, the whole reason you're getting this post is because I have a job that, while paying the bills and I'm very appreciative for, sucks.

What job have I ever had that didn't? There's been a couple, but none recently. Getting back to my work, I finally figured it out! I write when I'm unhappy. It's an outlet that, when I'm content, is unneeded for my wellbeing and happiness.

If I'm stressed about money, unhappy with my career, upset with my favorite soap opera, etc...I love to write. When I'm content, fat & happy, I think about it, but end up being all "meh" and don't.

I write this on my cell phone as I sit on the patio of a gigantic building in downtown Portland which rises majestically into the city skyline like a huge symbol of some CEO's shortcoming. I guess if that was the case I'm drinking my coffee and writing while seated on the Wells Fargo Tower's nutsack.

I have to get back to work, but rest assured, this job will make me post more...I promise!