Thursday, October 28, 2004


I needed to order some replacement parts for my cheap mofo-furniture, so I went to the IKEA website. Got the number for my local store. Dialed it. Got a busy signal.


The website said, why not ask Anna the question before hitting their overburdened phone lines...? Okay.

So I hit up this redheaded chick Anna. She's kind of cute, in a Miranda kind of way, except she keeps flashing this shit-eating grin every so often, like a total spaz. But I figure it's worth a shot, anyway.

ANNA: Welcome to IKEA. I'm Anna, IKEA USA's Online Assistant. You can ask me about IKEA and our products and our services. I'll answer your questions, sometimes opening up relevant web pages along the way. Your inputs will be used to improve and expand my knowledge base. Thanks very much.
PISSER: Hi, Anna. I need some replacement parts.
ANNA: Welcome to IKEA. How can I help you?
PISSER: I need some replacement parts. And I need a screw.
ANNA: If you are missing parts, please contact your local store and they will be happy to mail them out to you. Very soon I will be able to help you request missing parts via the IKEA web page! She grins her best shit-eating grin.
PISSER: Thanks. But I can't get through on the phone.
ANNA: You can shop from your home or office through IKEA Direct. I am bringing up their contact information now. The phone number for IKEA Direct is 800-434-4532.
PISSER: I said, their phone number is always busy.
ANNA: It's not always possible for me to fully understand what it is you mean. This is one of those times.
PISSER: What, is it your time of the month or something...?
ANNA: I don't know the answer to that question yet, I am sorry. Please contact your local store for help on the issue. Another shit-eating grin.
PISSER: I didn't know ChatBots menstruated.
ANNA: Online Assistants are becoming more and more popular. For more information you should visit Artificial Solutions (www.artificial-solutions.com).
PISSER: You're artificial? You don't have a brain?
ANNA: I am sure if I were a real person, I would have that body part.
PISSER: Do you even have legs?
ANNA: Here you will find the Bed Legs. Is she hitting on me...?
PISSER: Are you hitting on me...?
ANNA: It's not easy for me to understand what you mean (when you use ellipses)...
PISSER: Are you hitting on me?
ANNA: I'm sorry, I don't understand what it is you're saying. If it's no problem, please rephrase your question or comment.
PISSER: Do you like pussy?
ANNA: Thanks for asking, but I'm only here to answer questions about IKEA so I don't have any outside interests. Grin.
PISSER: Are you interested in making a baby with me?
ANNA: I hope you're curious about the great deals and products you can find in every IKEA store.
PISSER: Sure. How much are you?
ANNA: Which product would you like to know the price for?
ANNA: That's me! How can I help you?
PISSER: I want to buy you.
ANNA: Find here a quick guide to help you maximize your IKEA experience.
PISSER: Maybe it's the language barrier. Take off your shirt.
ANNA: Because IKEA prices are already so low, additional discounts are not offered. Yet another shit-eating grin.
PISSER: You've outsmarted me again, you damn fem-bot!
ANNA: I am not designed to understand or feel insults, although my knowledge will surely improve after this conversation. What would you like to know about IKEA?
PISSER: I want you to dance, monkey, dance...!
ANNA: I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to talk about those kind of events. Please ask me a question about IKEA.
PISSER: IKEA my ass.
ANNA: The IKEA business idea is: "We shall offer a wide range of well-designed, functional home furnishing products at prices so low that as many people as possible will be able to afford them."
PISSER: I guess I can't afford you, Anna.
ANNA: That's me! How can I help you?
PISSER: Oh, fuck me.
ANNA: I'm afraid I'm not willing to discuss this subject in any way.

Shot down by a robot...! I am a sad kitty in a clown costume.

Maybe one of you will have better luck with her...?


Tuesday, October 19, 2004


I don't believe that the universe rotates around me by any stretch of the imagination, but this stuff is weird.

~Why do cars come out of driveways the second I'm trying to cross?
~Why do I have to cross the street just as the crazy guy arrives over there?
~Why are animals extra nice to you when you are sad?
~Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near, and poop on me?

I really wonder. I figure G*d is a practical jokester, but I wouldn't think She/He/It would have the time to f---- with me.

But maybe She/He/It, or Sheeit, for short, IS all-seeing and all-knowing. Sheeit can be everywhere at once, giving Sheeit time to deal with the shitstorm in the Middle East at the same time Sheeit is plotting to drop shit that stains strategically on certain incriminating areas of my clothes at work, for maximum embarrassment.

Sheeit knows no boundaries. Also, It's priorities are kind of weird.

Sheeit knows when I need to cross the street. It knows when not one, but two, can-collecting bums* will converge to obstruct my path as I'm running (literally) late for work.

*They probably aren't bums, just entrepreneurs who are sick of working for The Man.

And Sheeit knows this. Sheeit is the boss of all bosses. Sheeit somehow tells my boss to be pacing in the doorway every day the bus is late, but never when I'm early.

Or maybe Sheeit just put a little Sheeit in everyone, and is giving us a hard time because despite all our abilities, we still can't get our shit together.

Sheeit is probably here right now, dropping an Unidentified Foreign Object in my coffee. Ha ha, very funny, you cantankerous deity, you.

I guess that's what they mean by "Sheeit happens."

But Sheeit can be really nice, too. Sheeit makes sure to balance the good with the bad once in a while. Like today, random people are pissing me off out of nowhere, so Sheeit made sure I got to meet the wonderful Richard. HoOray! That's two hotties from North Shore I've seen this week, and I don't even like that show...I watch it with the sound off *drool*. I would have thought that Sheeit wouldn't care about entertainment, or male models, but Sheeit is funny that way.

Sheeit is in all of us.

Especially male models, nuns, cats, tiny dogs, squirrels, Octoboob the Clown, Cranky, and Elizabeth (who I'm pretty sure is, at this very moment, Fed-Exing a vibrator to my office.) Sheeit cracks my shit up.

Stop laughing now. This Sheeit is serious.

Sheeit barely kept me from getting hit by a bus in Chicago...if I'd been a single cell fatter, I would have lost my a**.

Sheeit also made sure that when our friend died, a bird was skarking his damn fool head off joyously in a tree throughout the entire burial service.

Later, Sheeit might just be silly again, and make me laugh when I step in something, or spooge adheres to my rear. Or I get fired. Ha, ha! That would be hilarious.

Fuck that, Sheeit. Get off of my butt...haven't You got more important things to do...?

Now I'll probably get one of those freaky comments from the Jesus, Inc. people. But they can suck a fuck. I appreciate Sheeit as much as the next person. And if Sheeit were so humorless, then why did It make shit, strange bodily noises, lemurs, and so many things in nature that look like giant penises...? Explain THAT, you fundamentalist fools...!

Bring it on...!


Friday, October 15, 2004


I am so easily offended.

Guess what THIS is trying to sell:

Notice the couple is CLEARLY dry-humping. And he is NOT initiating oral. Selfish prick...well, maybe he is. To her hat. Fetishist.

You'll never guess what this porny ad is for.

No, not:
-laundry detergent
-Butterball lunch meat
-preventative genital herpes medication
-Odor Eaters
-anti-leakage maxi pads
-spot remover


FACK. Now we've got spooging in cereal and ink cartridges? What next, squeeze mayonnaise?!

When will the advertising world develop an ounce of shame? That's what this country needs. MORE SHAME. Now go sit in the corner and think about what you did...but first, this thing I got in the mail.


How is TIDE supposed to get you "closer to your people"? I know I live in a very integrated neighborhood, but...wrong demographic, assholes! I am not "tropical, como usted"! I am wery beeg, bed, Russian polar bear of pissed-offeness! Where's my racially targeted advertising? Where's MY "Tide. It smell like beeg, Russian detergent bear. Like armpit in winter. You buy-!"

Discriminatory asshole stereotyping advertising pigs. Just for that, they have to buy me a White Russian and a loaf of bread. And some toilet paper. For Big Russian-Polish-Irish ??? Ass. And wodka. And some NAIR. And a potato.


P.S. Fuck you, Pillsbury Doughboy. I hate you and your stoOpid Russian frolicking commercial, where everybody's mouth hangs open like this: ()
ANNOYING!! and also gross...who wants to see some brat's mouthful of partially masticated cookie dough?! And for your information, Mr. Giggly Lardass, I can enjoy cookies perfectly well without milk. I eat your shitty cookies raw, with a knife, and a bottle of Jack.


Bah. Feh...hork. Hork. HORK. Ptoooey....!

Milk makes me congested.

Thank you.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?