Dear fellow co-workers, clipboard-toting douchebags, and golf cart piloting tools in Khaki…
This letter is for you.
Rules for the bathroom…
Rule #1- If all of the urinals are full…Lift the mutherf*cking seat before you spray down the entire blasted stall….maybe you should try aiming for the toilet too…dipshits. If this is not possible, to do some weird physical deformity…THEN SIT THE F*CK DOWN!
(Seriously…the next one we catch pissing about like dog marking territory is getting maced.)
**************************************************************************************
Rule #2- Stall #3 is mine. You are no longer permitted to use it….Period…End of Story.
(This means YOU!…Oh, yes…You too! No one is exempt.)
*********************************************************************************************
Rule #3- Do NOT turn off the fan. I don’t care if it’s 20 below outside. You guys smell like the Devil’s taint. You smell worse than sitting in a VW Microbus packed with Phish fans on the way to their Eleventeenth show in two weeks.
In short…you smell like this:
Quit turning off the damn fan….
On a completely unrelated side note…..The fan is VERY NOISY….so loud one could say…You couldn’t hear a bear snoring because of it’s audio output….So, especially on third shift…(Cough…Crap Nappers…Cough, Cough!!!)…You might want to leave that fan on…just saying…
(Dude…you’re doing it wrong. Everyone knows a good crap nap requires your pants around your ankles…what if the boss peeks under the stall door?…Dumbass.)
************************************************************************************
Rule #4- Quit writing on the damned stall walls.
You aren’t original…or funny. You just piss everyone off with your horribly misshapen penis and breast doodles. Furthermore, you wasted company money on all the paint they put on those stall walls. If you assholes would stop, we might finally be able to convince them to put the damned air hockey table in the break room!
(Your quote about Joe’s mom, Supervisor Bob…or the man from Nantucket…not even this cool.)
(Typical….damned idiots…)
Now, if you are gonna do this sh*t…do it right…like this:
or this
Now that’s some talent…and I dare say…ART!
******************************************************************************************
So in review, Tardlings:
Quit pissing all over everything, Stay the f*ck out of stall three, Leave the fan on you smelly bastards, Drop your pants if you’re gonna fake a crap/take a nap, and quit drawing on the walls unless you’re going for Michaelangelo of the Crap-etorium.
Well, they say that inspiration is 99% perspiration…or something like that…
Or maybe it’s: Inspiration is like a lightning strike…never the same place twice?
F*ck it. Anyway, ideas kind of usually hit me like bugs on a windshield…tons of them…usually small, insignificant…but occasionally…SPLAT!!!…a giant sack of bloody innards bombards your viewport!
**************************************************************************
(Oooooooh!!!….Lightning Bug ass on my windshield!)
***************************************************************************
So I was thinking….Everyone always says that, “There is someone out there for everyone.”
The implication being that “Happily Ever After” is just a couple of Whiskey & Cokes and a lucky drunken rendezvous away.
+
= (Bahahahahhahahahahahaha! What does our friend Shrek say?…What A Load O’ Crap!!!)
*********************************************************************************************
This idea of a Soul Mate…interesting. Your one true counterpoint…wrapped up in a person who you want to have sex with forever. Oh, Scarlett…please be mine?
(I want one…)
***********************************************************************
BUT…They say life is all about balance, right? Yin and Yang. Fire and Ice. Hookers and Blow.
What if…the opposite is also true?
What if…the Anti-Soul mate exists?
Hell on Earth vs. Heaven on Earth
*************************************************************************
What the hell is a “soul mate” anyway? Then we can try to figure out what it’s opposite would be.
Wikipedia…that fantastic online treasure trove of all things encyclopaedic..says this:
Plato…blah, blah, blah…beings with four arms and legs….blah, blah, blah, genitals….blah, blah…together rivaled the powers of the Gods, blah, blah…Zeus split them…It is said that when the two find each other, there is an unspoken understanding of one another, that they feel unified and would lay with each other in unity and would know no greater joy than that.
Damn. Well, if you were originally made as one being…kind of hard to have an opposite.
So, I guess we’re going to have to imply a spiritual type of meaning on all of this nonsense. You aren’t literally two pieces of flesh. But someone who when you meet them, it’s magical. A feeling of unity that brings no greater joy.
So, I guess your Anti-Soul Mate would be someone who brings you Unending Misery, and you can think of nothing else but getting away from them.
(Might have dated a couple of these actually…)
Sh*t, now there’s a thought. What if there’s more than one?
Like a damned, Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book!!!
Option A —-Crazy, Makes your life hell!
Option B —-Clingy, Makes you want to jump off bridge!
Option C—–Mystery, Could be the Soul Mate…might be Option A & B combined!!!
********************************************************************************
(Met one of these lately?)
********************************************************************************
So, the next time you start jibbering about “There’s someone out there who’s perfect for me!”….just remember…there might be a dozen or more who are perfectly AWFULfor you lurking about as well!
Two aliens landed in the Arizona desert near a gas station that was closed for the night. They approached one of the gas pumps and the younger alien addressed it saying, "Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Take us to your leader."
The gas pump, of course, didn't respond.
The younger alien became angry at the lack of response.
The older alien said, 'I'd calm down if I were you.'
So…Screw waiting for New Year’s Resolutions…Get off your ass and get it done today.
Why? Here’s why:
(Ghost, why on Earth would a dirty fish eating a dirtier bird require me to get off my ass?)
Well Tardling…this is a FISH.
A…This sumb*tch can’t breathe on land.
2…This sumb*tch has got to catch his lunch and get back into the water before he dies.
D…This sumb*tch isn’t supposed to do this.
Q…I don’t know…
Bottom line…If you’re hungry, pissed off, fed up, disgusted, depressed, lonely (or horny for that matter)…Get up and do something about it.
(Ghost’s sponsors require that he issue a disclaimer at this point: Try or do something that ISN’T ILLEGAL! Ghost is no way condones, promotes or advocates violence, collusion, theft, or any other act that could land your ass in prison.)
***WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR IRREGULARLY SCHEDULED GHOST BLOG***
You might have to try something new, and it might feel like you can’t breathe…almost like a fish out of water?
So, get off your ass, and make it happen…or else some other damn fish is going to leap out of the water to steal your man/woman, promotion, etc…
Ghost out…
(150 bonus Ghost dollars for everyone who actually clicked on the fish video and watched it.)
***The Producers of ‘theGhostlife’ would like to take a moment to remind you that Ghost dollars are purely fictitious and are redeemable for nothing of actual real world value…kind of like most college degrees.***
A horrible tragedy occurs nearly every day during Hunting Season…but this type of incident…is extra heartbreaking…and something needs to be done about it immediately.
Every year, you see them out there…they wash their pickups BEFORE they go out hunting…they wear designer labels under their blaze orange vests and $200 boots out into the woods, with their customized firearms that they’ve only fired at a box full of clay pigeons….
**********************************************************************
(Sir, your truck is too clean to go hunting.)
(Okay, hipster…don’t even think of picking up a gun. Go back to the coffee house, and get on your laptop…NOW!!!)
**********************************************************************
Yes, these city-slicker, wanna-be outdoorsmen stomp off into the nightmares of America…
The sudden unexpected loss of life is always a terrible thing, but the damage…is truly heinous…
Yes, these poorly trained, over-dressed, wish they were manly-men, adventurers…shoot things…trees, rocks, muddy banks…and even each other….
When these friendly fire accidents happen…it is truly awful…so near the holidays…just tragic.
But this is NOT what we need to address…
Every year, many poor, innocent animals are slaughtered by idiots who know not the difference between a doe and a heifer…(note, doe = deer, heifer = cow.)
But the most tragic of all…is the massacre of mythical creatures…
The most tragic of all being…the unicorn.
These rare and legendary beasts are commonly slaughtered by would-be deer, elk or antelope “hunters”.
With Bigfoot populations in steady decline, and the Loch Ness Monster still unable to conceive, this is the next big issue.
With only 17 wild unicorns left…make that 15….no, 14 now….
These majestic beauties must be protected.
Will you step up….and donate the $1.00 a day, to help save the unicorns?
Operators are standing by.
Remember…only you can prevent Unicorn Slaughter.
Ghost out…
**********************************************************************
(Special thanks to Adam and Eve for the inspiration…you frigging hippies!)
Anyhoo…I’ve weighed in before on dating. Life has changed a ton since I first dove into the dating pool way back in the day…and in the mid-to-late-90′s, online dating probably started in the chat rooms. Can I get a shout out from the peeps who remember “A/S/L?”
Back then, my PC never got a break from downloading porn…unless I kicked everyone out to write a paper…then, my roommate had popped to order cable and had the Playboy channel, so our room was pretty popular.
********************************************************************
(Add in that there was usually about a gallon of vodka in that sumb*tch at any given time, and Ghost and the Cobra had it going on.)
+ +
=
(If you know where I went to school….you’d know that this is total bullsh*t…there weren’t that many good looking girls at that school…hell, in that entire town….we’d have had to road trip to our rival school to line up this many hotties.)
This was back when AOL and Netscape were running things. I can remember coming into my room after football or track practice…or from hanging out on the Co-Ed floor below us, and that damn ‘Little Porn Engine That Could’ would have several guys crowded around it. (HS graduation gift from the parents…most kids had to head across campus to the computer lab to write papers. There were maybe three computers total on my floor and maybe five or six in the whole dorm building.)
These bastards could pick the lock on my door with a driver’s license or credit card, and they’d hit the search engines. Back then, it took forever for images to download. So, you’d hear them screaming down the halls… Mike found naked pics of Alyssa Milano…So about 5 to ten minutes later, there’d be 5 to 10 guys huddled around the 13″ monitor…waiting as line by line was slowly revealed..like an old school peep show….Sometimes they’d get a hit, and a cheer would erupt…other times….you’d hear…That’s NOT Alyssa Milano, SON OF A B*TCH!!!!…..Hey, check to see if Christina Applegate has any nude pics…
(These ladies were hot, before Ghost even knew what that meant…and they’re still damn fine looking today…)
********************************************************************
Forget cell phones…pagers hadn’t even gotten big yet. Hell no, you were dialing 1-800 numbers and using calling cards for 5 to 10 cents a minute.
There was always one poor bastard on the suite phone…EVERY DAMN NIGHT…calling that girl from home…hours this fool would be at it….’I love you too, babe’….’I miss you too, babe’….Then he’d trot downstairs to spend the night in the Turkish/Jewish/Romanian/Filipino/Catholic/Nigerian/Whatever Flavor of the Month girl’s room on the co-ed floor below us….that bastard.
********************************************************************
(Ghost, what the hell does all of that have to do with online dating?)
Shut your face, infidel! I’m getting there.
Putting a picture on the internet required a scanner. These flat, large…very slow devices. The age of camera phones and instant web embarrassment were light years away at this point.
So, doctored photos and BS profiles weren’t even at issue yet. So, I’ve seen a lot of sh*t, and people used to strike up conversations in chat rooms and leave their spouses without a Facebook page or Online dating profile to screen.
When things hit me today, I worry that it’s because I’m old, and those old stories are fun to tell..so suck it…anyway, here goes…
Okay, so I’m checking out this online dating thing, and I’m wanting to talk about the “goals” section.
Now some sites are geared towards finding specific kinds of girls: Fat ones, short ones, skinny ones, dark ones, light ones, ones that look like girls…but have boy parts, etc…
That’s not what I’m talking about.
What I’m talking about is the ‘Relationship Goal’ portion of the dating profile…and specifically the following options:
Hang-out
Short-term
Long-term
Dating
Friends
Intimate Encounter/Casual Sex
Casual Dating/Nothing Serious
Actively Pursuing a Relationship
Marriage
Well, starting with the bottom…Marriage…(shudder)…When I see this on a woman’s profile, I hear, “I need to get married NOW, and start hatching babies.”
Sorry, but that sh*t scares the hell out of me, and just about every guy I know. You’d better be a solid 8, 9 or 10 to post that on your profile and still get inquiries.
********************************************************************
Intimate Encounter/Casual Sex…well, at first glance, you’d think that every guy would hop at this chance…but this reeks fishily of an Admiral Ackbar:
Is this a trick? Could a woman possibly be only interested in one thing? I have been hearing such things….however, most guys are immediately going to jump to the next conclusion: This chick is dirty.
Like an STD factory….or as we call them back home…chicks you’d meet downtown…(Unfortunately, the stats don’t lie, and about 1 in 3 adults back home are carrying around a ‘love bug’. Shout out to my boy, Nose…and those skanks he loves so dear!)
(Remember, Chitlins…Like Ms. F.O.B. says: Herpes is forever.)
********************************************************************
Hang out/Friends…
So what the hell is this option even doing on an online dating site? Really? I know plenty of people to “hang out with”. I have plenty of friends…well, there are many different kinds of friends…some who come over and take care of your pets when you’re out of town, friends you drink with, friends you play sports with, friends with benefits….
More confusing crap. Short term…didn’t I cover this under “Intimate Encounter/Casual Sex”? How short is short term? For the night? For the weekend? A month? 90 days? What’s the shelf life for a “short term” relationship?
Are there special requirements for pursuing one of these? Like do I need to have a terminal illness? Or be relocating, and just looking for something to help me get through til the move? Is there a permit or note I have to get from my doctor?
Oooh, or are they for like special events? I’d like to lose my virginity. I’d like a hot chick for a one night meaningful relationship, that I’ll never forget.
Or, I have a wedding to go to, would like hot, redhead for romantic steamy weekend at the beach. Relationship duration: Approximately 72 hours.
Can this thing be contracted? Okay, so there may be potential for this “Short Term” thing.
Then what the hell is “Long Term”?
And are the penalties for early withdrawal…like with banks and investments?
(No he didn’t, dumbass…he said ‘Early Withdrawal’…but that sort of means taking it out early.
Heheheheh, nevermind. He just said ‘Pulling Out’ all smart like.)
How long is long enough? 6 months? A year? 5 years? 20? This type of sh*t really needs to be laid out up front, because if you’re thinking: Til death do us part, and I’m thinking: Til I grow tired of her and blast her into space. We may have a problem.
So let me get this straight? You want me to make an effort, call, talk, text, whatever. You want me to take you out to dinner, a movie, a concert, whatever. But, you’re not really looking for anything other than that?
Hit the bricks, freeloader…You’re as bad as guys who just tell girls whatever they want to hear, so they can have sex.
(Yes, you’re a dirty, worthless pile of garbage…just like a politician.)
Dark Side and Everto here…and since we’re back on graveyard shift….(cause that’s what happens to your social life when you work thirds…you bury it.)…our motherf*cking Monday is about over.
But for you poor bastards who are about to start your day….F*ck it. Here we go:
Have a great day at work, hookers!
**********************************************************************
Oh, hey…how was your weekend? Hold on, I have a book for you to read:
Yes, yes! Amen! Anyone up for all three?…we’re negotiable on the order.
************************************************************************
To those ladies who think they were put here to enhance our lives, just by allowing us to bask in their glory…this one’s for y’all…and your little dog too!
Well, you rotten dirty, perverted scoundrels…Yeah..I missed you too.
********************************************************************************
Been busy as of late. Haven’t really had a ton of time for much…work, eat, sleep, repeat. What little free time that I’ve had has been spent with my kids, so dating hasn’t really been even on my radar.
So, Back in May, my oldest finally decided to join the DarkSide…Catching an inbound freshman was easier in some ways than I expected…harder in others.
I thought I’d share a conversation I had with his blessed little heart.
Spectre: I have to remember to pick up a ticket to the Homecoming Dance on Saturday.
Ghost: You going ‘stag’?
********************************************************************************
Free Prodigy Vocabulary lesson:
‘Going Stag’:
stag /stæg/ Spelled [stag]
IPA ,noun, verb, stagged, stag·ging, adjective, adverb
noun
1. an adult male deer.
2. the male of various other animals. 3. a man who attends a social gathering unaccompanied by a woman.
4. Informal . stag party.
5. a swine or bull castrated after maturation of the sex organs.
***************
DarkSide Unsolicited Comment:
“Dictionary.com…hookers. It’ll make you less f*cking retarded!”
********************************************************************************
Spectre: Uhm…I’m going with two girls and meeting a couple more there…so, I guess that I’m going…’Pimp’?
Ghost: (Laughing) Good one…I like that. So, when did you decide to go?
Spectre: Awhile ago…I told you.
Ghost: No, you didn’t. Wanna know why?
Spectre: I know I told you. Why do you think I didn’t tell you?
Ghost: Correction. I don’t THINK you didn’t tell me…I KNOW you f*cking didn’t tell me…and THIS is why:
1) I started busting your ass about this like 8 weeks ago. If you had asked a girl, you have to make dinner reservations, get flowers, and arrange transportation… since your monkey ass can’t drive.
(Gonna have to wait to take your date like this til next year, kid!)
*********************************************************************************
2) I have to work this weekend. So I would have to alter my sleep schedule since I’m on thirds.
3) I only forget stupid crap…like married women’s first names, keys in the ignition of cars, and any promise made to get people to leave me alone while I sleep.
Spectre: (Indignant and a ‘tad’ sarcastic) I’m sorry. Well, I guess next time, I’ll shout my plans from the mountaintops…
Ghost: Don’t take that tone with me. I’ll kick your ass. I’ve put in quite a few hours at the shop this week where they’re talking layoffs, I’ve been sleeping like sh*t, and the muscles in my right calf haven’t stopped spasming in 13 days. If you had told my dumb ass, the first question out of my mouth would have been, “What are you wearing?” Have you got dress shoes? A shirt and tie? A belt? Motherf*cking dress pants? Who’s ironing that sh*t?
Spectre: Oh….Yeah…I don’t have anything to wear.
(She might be able to pull this look off, but YOU, my son…cannot.)
***********************************************************************************
Ghost: It’s Thursday, Jabroni. I have to go to work tonight. Can’t get you clothes tonight. You have a football game Friday, and I’m working til 7am Saturday. Then, you have practice from 8-11am. I’m going to have to stay awake, and help you go get this stuff and get that mop on your head addressed.
Spectre: (Interrupting) Well, compared to all the guys on the team, this is really short…
Ghost: Well, they aren’t my kids, and if their parents don’t care if their kids look like crap and are having sex with anything that moves, that’s their business…You planning on shaving sometime this month by the way?
Spectre: Yesssssssss. Damn, dad.
Ghost: I’ll stop busting your ass, when I believe you’re going to be able to take care of yourself when I’m dead.
(Is that a Ghost Stripper?….Nah, Ghost is done dating those…even in the afterlife…)
**********************************************************************************
Long story short, We saw my very un-gay hairdressing pal named Timmay and visited Ms. Voodoo’s consignment spot…got this kid some threads, a belt and shoes, and sent his little monkey ass off to the dance…where he seemed to have a good time.
I gotta say this…the little bastard cleans up pretty well. I was actually sort of impressed when he got all dudded up.
What’s up, b*tches?
Long time no chat…Well, that’s just cause I got sh*t to do…
You think I just sit around and worry about entertaining you?
Anyway, I didn’t think there would really ever be a debate over this, but I have received information that is making me reopen the debate over sexiest dance ever. The reigning champ has some work cut out for her, so here goes.
Time for y’all to make the call:
Which sexy wiggle is better?
The defending champ: Kate Upton, model/actress doing the ‘Cat Daddy’.
‘
