Category: My stories

It’s weird that I don’t mind the free lunches for the few employees that actually go into the office.
I’ve never had that benefit from this company, and never expected it from them.
And they’re good about allowing time for lunch and breaks.
As for the old company, they prided themselves on the free lunches and lured people in with that benefit and would say it’s a part of compensation package.
And yet when the pandemic hit, and people worked from home, they’d attack anyone who’d whine about it.
I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.
What’s for lunch?

He’s been gone for years, but she still keeps his tools in the basement.
The hammer. The wrenches. The circular saw and its blades.
The baby food jars with screws and nails and nuts and bolts.
She doesn’t use them. One of the neighbors comes by to take care of anything she needs.
And they have their own tools.
The kids come to visit with their kids, but they have their own tools. They don’t need them.
They’re all still in good condition.
They’ll probably end up in the shop class at the junior high school.
Or sold on ebay.

There are people comparing vaccination efforts to the Holocaust.
Other people comparing the 1/6 riots to 9/11 and Pearl Harbor.
And everyone’s calling each other Hitler and Nazis.
If given a pile of apples and oranges, they’ll compare them to Nazis.
This generation is too fucking stupid to make comparisons.
What do you expect from assholes who think a quarter of a pound is bigger than a third of a pound?
I’d compare this generation to previous generations, but they’d just call me Nazi.
Or Hitler.
(Because they’re also too stupid to know that Hitler was a Nazi.)

My grandmother was a ruthless and callous bitch.
She said that headaches were the result of feeling guilty about something, so she refused to give aspirin until I confessed to all the bad things they’ve done.
Oh, and she’d scream this at me to make it worse.
Sure, I’d done something bad. I was a rotten shit.
But this was child abuse.
My other grandmother gave out Life Savers saying they were headache pills.
She had Dementia. Probably thought this was true.
I knew what they were, so the placebo effect didn’t work.
Plus, they were watermelon-flavored, which are disgusting.

I used to drink at a bar a lot.
But I don’t drink anymore, but I still went to the bar to have a soda now and then.
Until I overheard the bartender telling a joke to a customer that began with Two Jews walk into a bar, and the bartender says I don’t serve Jews.
I left before the punchline, called the owner, and bought the place.
The next day, I went back.
“I’ve got a joke for you,” I said. “One Jew walks into a bar. The one he bought overnight. And fired the bartender.”
That’s a punchline!

I have one cat.
I tried to get another cat, but my cat didn’t like the other cat and drove it off.
My cat has a monopoly on me.
So, the government sued my cat under the Sherman Antitrust Act.
Coincidentally enough, my cat’s named Sherman.
And he apparently used anti-competitive practices on other cats to have a monopoly on me.
The driving off of other cats.
My cat’s lawyer negotiated a deal.
So, the government is assigning my cat a cat-sitter.
And three more cats are due to arrive within the week.
I hope the lawyer cleans the litterboxes.

Elections are pretty much a game of bobbing for turds now, aren’t they?
The only choice really left to the sane voter is to keep your head under water until the bubbles stop.
We pay for a solid gold tub.
We pay for the finest natural spring water.
We give money for campaigns and voter awareness of the tub and water.
And then they take a dump in it, tie our hands behind our backs, and say “PICK A WINNER!”
Oh, and if you bite down on the wrong turd, you’re a racist, sexist bigot.
With shit in your mouth.

Looking at the tractors and other machinery, my grandfather said “They don’t make ’em like they used to.”
Which, considering that the farming process used to involve human sacrifice into a volcano, I’d say is a good thing.
Especially when the human to be sacrificed would be me.
“Get a goat out of the pen,” he said.
I put a rope around a goat’s neck, and we climbed the side of the volcano.
“OH LORD PYRO!” shouted my grandfather. “ACCEPT OUR SACRIFICE TO BLESS THIS YEAR’S HARVEST.”
And I shoved my grandfather into the volcano.
Goats are expensive, you know.

I work for a company that’s all about helping companies engage with their customers.
The most interesting feature they support is abandoned shopping carts.
If you go to a web store, put something in your cart, and then close the window… that’s an abandoned cart.
Our software allows stores to send you texts or emails asking you if you still want that item.
I’ve noticed this before, and now I go to online stores and abandon carts just to see if they email me.
I also abandon shopping carts at the grocery store.
The employees gather them up, cursing me.