so you might be wondering where i’ve been. not really? well, guess what …
work has its dick up my ass and i’m pinned to this pukey cheap-ass corporate carpet. in addition to my day job here, i’m also on this enterprise new media team responsible for infusing a social media plan into every line of business for this global beast.
infusing? isn’t that what you do with vodka?
i’m convinced one of the main reasons i really don’t belong in corporate america is that i don’t speaka the language. half the fucking time i don’t know what’s being said. and this special vernacular really flexes its muscle when you’re involved in a cross-functional, enterprise-wide endeavor. here are some of the words i stumble on:
workstream – whatever happened to group, work group, team? now it’s a workstream. what does that even mean? are there fish in it?
out-of-pocket – you’re not available, what??
prescribe – you’re not a doctor and so you’re not prescribing things. and if you are, then hook me up with some percocet.
hypotheses – this is a science term. i tune out because this does not apply to me.
synthesize – can’t we just put shit together?
traction – this is what my beamer has none of in the snow.
milestone – this applies to birthdays and anniversaries, significant things. how is every task a milestone? *shakes head*
sustainable – of course corp america had to jump on this ecological bandwagon. well i laugh to myself everytime i hear it in a meeting because i think of an erection.
cadence – this has to do with the rhythm of voice or music. why are you using it to mean frequency?
thought leadership – this is what steve jobs did, it implies innovation, i don’t see much of that here or in other big corporations. i just see a bunch of over-compensated exceutives. (alright i won’t go there today.)
this is by no means a comprehensive list, but it would be much easier for me to succeed if people would stop trying to impress everyone in the room and just speak some good old fashioned english. like those people in the movie fargo.
On Tue, Mar 22, 2011 at 6:13 PM, Barry <barry@ez-mortgagecalculator.com> wrote:
Hi there,
I work in the SEO field and I ran into pattypunker.com during my search for great quality websites. I am looking for link exchange partners as I’m working on promoting my site. In exchange I can offer you great quality websites with good PR and backlinks in a 3-way link exchange set up.
If you are interested or have further questions I’d gladly hear from you.
Ohhhh I love the SEO field. Can I work there, too? Sers, I need a new job. Is it like a corporate environment? Or, is it all casual with a creative lounge for brainstorming on bean bag chairs? And does it have beds, you know for power napping or drinking cocktails on like you find in those uber swanky bars and nightclubs. I don’t really like sitting on a bed when I’m in a bar. What if I’m wearing a dress? Where am I’m supposed to put my legs? I have kinda long legs that take up a lot of room on a bed even when I fold myself in a Z formation. Then my legs get all crampy and twitchy and that’s not right when I’m partaking in half price mojitos. And it’s not like you can lie on a bar bed which is what you’re supposed to do on a bed unless you’re into that kama sutra book then there are all sorts of positions you can get into on a bed but you wouldn’t want to do that in a bar either. Unless you’re in a swingers club. I don’t know anything about swingers clubs though so I can’t really say whether they have beds or not. Or just swings. Regardless, you can’t drink your cocktails while lying down so what’s the point of having beds in a bar, I ask you? Do you like beds in bars? Or how about those daybeds on the beach with the awesome mosquito-net tents around them? They make sense, don’t ya think?
You say you ran into pattypunker.com as a quality website? I think you are grossly mistaken. Unless you mean my quality entrepenurial ideas. Like my idea to convince Franzia to leverage social media in the marketing of their fine box wines and how I should serve as their Kickass Social Media Ninga VIP. Or my advice to tampon manufacturers suggesting they change the string to a little pull handle. Or perhaps you mean my book, Diets are Dumb, where I tell people to never ever diet because self-denial doesn’t work. It backfires and yo-yos and causes a perverse obsession with that which you are denying yourself. If you’re referring to any of these little gems of genius then just maybe I can see your point.
As far as your offer to provide me with good PR and backlinks in a 3-way link exchange … is “link” a euphemism? *wink wink* btw, are we talking a 2F,1M or 2M,1F exhange? Anyhussy, I don’t sell any products on my website, but I am willing to sell my soul for a price. And that price would be $232,641 per year, or $19,586.75 per month. It’s more per month if you don’t go with an annual contract. I’ll waive the link exchange drug test fee (making sure you have good ones) and STD check fees (making sure you have none) if you sign by April 15, 2011.
i’ve become absolutely desperate with this pain that remains in my ass. i haven’t been talking about it because BORING. but it is tearing me up and turning me into some kind of obsessive nut job.
the more interesting news is that i’ve started seeing an acupuncturist for it. and i’m now taking chinese herbs. the herbs i have are called ossifex extract (jian bu hu qian wan). they’re for nourishing yin and purging fire, enriching blood, and strengthening tendons. guess what this ancient recipe translates to in english?
Vigorous Walk as Stealthy Tiger Pill; Health Step and Hidden Tiger Pill
i’m taking a tiger pill, y’all!!! how fucking cool is that? i’ll tell you how cool it is: totally fucking awesome supercalifragilistic cool.
i’m gonna be all stealth like crouching tiger, hidden dragon.
i’m gonna be like the hunk of burning love, bradley cooper, in limitless after taking NZT.
mostly, i’m going to be a modern day myth like charlie sheen.
so it’s only fitting that i have my own phrase of empowerment in place of “winning.” i gave it some thought and do believe i’ve got it.
ok so it probably wasn’t much of a surprise after i put it in the title. anyhussy, it’s a blast to say. i like to do a raised power fist when i declare it.
puissance, motherfucker!
and yes, you can use it, too. it has punch. i think cuz it’s derived from french and was probably used by those gnarly underground french resistance people or some shit.
this accupunturist has taught me some other things. like never drink cold water. only warm. warm water flushes out the kidneys, keeps your digestive system healthy, wards off diseases, and improves performance. yeah, try working out with warm water.
speaking of working out, apparently the western way is pointless. we try to expend energy, burn fat. the right way to exercise is tai chi. it’s meant to conserve energy, renew vitality and promote calmness and a feeling of emotional security.
i have my own ancient formula for that. it’s called franzia and xanax extract. plus there’s no way in hell those slow tai chi movements are going to burn off my franzia and pizza belly.
then she told me no stretching unless it’s backward stretching. so no doing any of the exercises the physical therapist gave me. no forward bending at all. walking is good. especially if it’s backward walking. can you see me backward walking in the city?
so much conflicting information. do i go with a western or eastern approach? i definitely think i’ll stick with the tiger blood pills. then again, i’ve always said yes to pills when it came to western medicine, too. but i’m not sure i’ll be able to take my herbs with warm franzia.
ps: i love puissance! so much i created some tshirts. you can even in get it on this action. (yes, i shamelessly promote my blog on the back of the adult shirts, but they’re still badass. i think.)
some people are real scholarly bloggers like absence of alternatives,for the birds, or 20prospect. they use descriptive language and make compelling arguments. i’d like to be sophisticated like that, but you’ve probably noticed i’m not that fancy.
i try to make my goals realistic. i’d be happy even if i could write as good as missy elliot in this work it song:
If you a fly gal get your nails done Get a pedicure, get your hair did Boy, lift it up, let’s make a toast-a Let’s get drunk, that’s gonna’ bring us closer Don’t I look like a Halle Berry poster See the Belvedere playin’ tricks on you Girlfriend wanna be like me, never You won’t find a bitch that’s even better I make you hot as Las Vegas weather Listen up close while I take it backwards I’m not a prostitute, but I could give you what you want I love your braids and your mouth full of floss Love the way my ass go bum-bum-bum-bum Keep your eyes on my bum-bum-bum-bum-bum And think you can handle this gadonk-a-donk-donk Take my thong off and my ass go boom
take my thong off and my ass go boom? that is some powerful imagery. you agree right?
i’m totally phoning this post in because holy tanuki balls i’m slammed at work. by the way that was a reference to the tom robbins book, villa incognito. you have to respect a book which opens with:
”It has been reported that Tanuki fell from the sky using his scrotum as a parachute.”
see tanuki’s scrotum is proportionately larger than the scrota of elephants, whales, and the jolly green giant.
so i declare that reference makes me literary and some shit.
i’m also trying to plan a trip to the carribean. which doesn’t exactly make me a starving and tortured writer person, but i can always drink excessively and take some happy pills to simulate the agony.
speaking of agony, fucking pms. it’s killing me this week. and why doesn’t anybody tell you not to go to the grocery store with pms? they tell you not to go hungry but it’s much worse to go with pms. guess what i ended up with in my cart?
pepperoni and cheese stromboli cheesy scalloped potatoes tater tots strawberry toaster strudel
we all know how treating my sacroiliac joint injury holistically turned out. if you’re new here, you can catch up on this epic fail here. so tomorrow i’m going all western medicine on this shit and having an injection into my joint. or as my daughter succinctly put it “a shot in the ass.” provided it doesn’t fucking snow too much that it gets cancelled or the roads are impassable. fucking snow is ruining my life. in preparation for the injection i’ve had to stop taking my prescription anti-inflammatory and all medicines that affect blood clotting. this hasn’t made patty a happy girl.
imagine no advil after a friday or saturday night.
and i’ve had increased joint paint.
if i’ve made these sacrifices for nothing and this thing is cancelled due to snow, i’m going to go ballistic.
to say i’m a bit anxious is an understatement. i’ve had weeks of anticipation since this was the first appointment i could get due to the holidays and my doctor’s two week trip to italy.
plus, i have to get this thing done while awake. read: aware.
a big ass needle into my ass and i won’t be sedated!
the doc has to use x-ray guidance to direct the needle into the joint. like this:
except this patient has a nicer ass than me
then BAM! she injects a contrast dye to make sure that the medication only goes into the joint. what if she motherfucking misses?
she better not have been drinking the night before or had too much coffee. i'll drop kick the bitch if she brings a shakey hand to the table.
after that she injects a small mixture of anesthetic and cortisone into my ass. small mixture? she clearly has no idea of my tolerance for medication. i’m conditioned, punkers. shoot me up hard. i don’t want to go through this again.
so the question isn’t whether i take a xanax before the procedure. the question is do i take a .25, .5, or 1 mg xanax. (when stockpiling, it’s important to keep different dosages for every occasion.) mr. punker has to drive me home after the procedure, so i’m pretty sure tomorrow will be 5 mg xanax afternoon.
i’d much rather have a little twilight anesthesia in my IV, but still . . . don’t ya love a girl who can self-sedate?
no, of course not. we of excess and gluttony need one more round of overindulgence and self-destruction. motherfucking awesome.
i’d like to tell you that i’m all resolved, absolved and involved in the new year. but, i’m still looking out at all of you wondering how you have it in you to remain spirited, social, and drug-free.
i always wonder what those of you with faith do when things seem dark and hopeless? i mean isn’t that why you have faith, so things don’t seem all dark and hopeless? at least being an atheist, i’m not pissed at god for feeling low and estranged. one less person to be mad at and blame is kind of a win, don’t ya think? unless of course god is within, so god is me; therefore, i’m just feeling more wrath with myself. that actually sounds about right.
oh i know i should be all ”to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.“
turn, turn, turn.
but i don’t fucking get it. every time should be a time to laugh, embrace, and dance. fuck the times to weep, mourn, break down, hate, lose, etc. are they really necessary? i’m done with those times, just like i’m over the ass sore that is the holidays.
so i wont talk about those times in 2010 that were supposed to provide some kind of ‘leveling,’ ya know to keep us all humble. like the bp oil spill, teabaggers election wins, jessie james’ infidelity, arizona’s anti-immigration law, bristol palin’s psa, prop 8 supporters, bill donahue blaming the gays for pedophilia, etc.
thrash, thrash, thrash.
this ain’t no grammys, no oscars, no disco, no fooling around, this is just the shit i like from 2010 presented in categories i like:
indie album:high violet by the national (it’s my new testament. their album, alligator, is my 13 commandments. hey, i’m very religious — god is within me, remember — so 10 commandments weren’t enough.)
pop song i couldn’t resist: love the way you lie by eminem and rhianna. (shut up, it’s like a punk pop song. ‘sides, bitch got pipes and i totally sound like her when i wail in the car.)
breaththrough movie:the kids are alright (color me a lezzy cuz i have the hots for annette bening and juliane moore. then again there’s mark ruffalo. so color me bi-curious.)
salacious sex scene in a movie: casey affleck and jessica alba in killer inside me (not for the faint-hearted and really sick to like any part of this ultra violent film. but my dreams don’t lie.)
rocker tshirt: tie between “it’s motherfucking booze time” (check it here) and “i think i brained my damage” (here).
caught on tape: joe biden to president obama on the passage of health care reform, “it’s a big fucking deal” (vp with a dirty mouth = hawt.)
commercial worth watching: tie between the kia hamsters doing the black sheep and kevin bacon talking about kevin bacon. (i don’t know what product this latter one is for, but who doesn’t love kevin bacon crossing his fingers wishing he could turn into kevin bacon.)
actual comedy: modern family (lmao every week. should be on hbo for added irreverence.)
dramedy: nurse jackie (girl likes herself some narcotics. why didn’t i consider nursing?)
real drama: tie between dexter and mad men (serial killer who slays serial killers vs. stylistic ad biz show. that’s a toughie, right?)
useful technology: ipad (internet on the train with a large screen for my over 40 eyes + name jokes = no brainer.)
memorable talk show moment: conan obrien doing freebird on his farewell show. (dude can rock out with his sub-woofer out. and he tickles my funny bone.)
depraved blog: vodka and ground beef (i’d link you to it but for some reason it’s like gone. without notice. wtf!)
intriguing blog commenter: tie between bugginword and dufmanno. (both make me feel like i’m swirling in some kind of an imaginarium. that’s a good thing, btw.)
awesome gift giver: three way tie between subwow, wicked shawn and a vapid blonde. (i retire my tiara to these sexy, amazing girls who all blew my mind this year.)
rad nail polish design:fuck u on lindsay lohan’s middle finger (how much do i want to wear this in the corporate conference room!)
book without flowery language: tie between squirrel seeks chipmunk by david sedaris and life by keith richards (each of these artists are iconic and the fiercest in their respective crafts: satirist and rock star.)
and since i’m still wallowing in my suckdom, i’d like to end on bad note. why jimmy choo, why?
uggs aren't pretty to begin with, why bedazzle them?
as some of you know my fun is still on the run. first there’s the back and leg pain which after the MRI and x-rays the ortho thinks may be my sacroiliac joint. the fuck? but to be sure i need to have an SI joint injection under x-ray. not happy punkers.
then there’s the car. on my way to pick up a friend for the freelance whales show at johnny brenda’s in philadelphia last night the fucker overheated. this after it overheated and died two weeks ago and after spending $1200 to have it towed and repaired. it does it again. frickem frackem fucking mother cocksucking. i’m done with i service imports, the shop that “fixed” it.
mr. punker came and got me in the city and drove the smoking vehicle home.
i wasn’t going to go to the show. nerve wracked and spent, i was wallowing in self-pity.
then i said to myself, “self, you only live once. and someday i may not be able to go see live music. and live music nourishes my soul. energizes and inspires me.”
what i love about live music is that it gets in my head and kicks the crap out of all the bullshit heavy negative stuff taking up valuable and limited real estate.
so i put on some rocker clothes, added some black eyeliner, packed up my license and FOP card, grabbed an endocet, hopped in mr punker’s big truck and headed to the show.
and i’m happy i did. it was a fun show and other than this encounter with a doucher standing at the bar next to me, i was able to rock out with my subwoofer out.
me: what happened to my beer? (seeing half dranken beer in front of doucher) did you take my beer?
doucher: sorry honey i just grabbed the one behind me. (who the fuck says “honey.” this kid is like 20-something.)
(doucher passes me back my beer)
me: hope you don’t have herpes.
doucher: just aids.
(stupid. doucher buys himself a new beer. himself! not me. i get his fucking backwash and now he ponies up the $5 for a sly fox dunkel lager.)
me: oh good a new beer since we’re sharing.
doucher: you can a have a sip. even steven. (even steven? you gotta be fucking kidding me?)
me: yeah that’s ok, how about we just establish some boundaries. you keep your beer over there. and mine will be over here.
doucher: ok honey.
(no he fucking didn’t)
and don’t ya know the little scumbag chuggs his beer down in like two gulps leaving me to hold my beer for the rest of the show.
still all was well with my world. here’s a 30 sec video of the show with pics taken from my iphone. turn up the volume, bitches.
i lost my fun. it just up and left. i looked for it in all the likely places. i tried to find my fun in music, shopping, dining out, mashed potatoes, a swedish massage, and even a happy pill. it just wasn’t anywhere. i kept hoping my fun would show up somewhere unusual the way a missing train pass might, but it hasn’t.
i’m worried that in a moment of fear and self-loathing i may have pushed my fun away. kicked it to the fucking curb. and it won’t be coming back.
not sure if it’s mr. punker’s recent double discectomy, having the home computer wiped out with a vicious virus, my persistent back and leg issues and now a numbness in my hand, my car leaking something, the pugs contracting fleas, the shorter days and lack of sunshine, or just my bad chemicals flaring.
but how is it possible to feel blank and have your whole body ache at the same fucking time?
yep, this is how i feel without my fun.
i’m not sure where my fun could be headed. if i were my fun, i’d go someplace where i know i’d be welcome like bali, st. john, key west, new york, new orleans or paris. but you never know with my fun. it didn’t always need the obvious stimulus to kick it. it could come out big anytime or anyplace without warning. it was spontaneous and combustive like that.
have you seen this fun?
fuck, i loved my fun. what i wouldn’t give to make it feel at home again by offering it lightness, delight, hard laughs, and lots of energy and excitement.
well, if you see my fun floating around your neck of the woods please welcome it with open arms and treat it with kindness. it’s probably feeling disconnected and alienated as it is no longer inhabiting its body. grab my fun by the hand, take it in, tell it i miss it, feed it original ray’s pizza, give it franiza, play it the national’s songs, and by all means let it dance its motherfucking ass off and play some air bass.
holy guacamole i got a package from a secret admirer this week. inside was the book insulting english by peter novobatzky and ammon shea. the front flap reads:
“at last, a compendium of ingenuously insulting words for every occasion, for everyone who’s been stymied by the level of sloth, bad looks, and low intelligence of his fellow man . . . You can’t change the tiresome creatures around you , but now you can describe them behind their backs with pleasing specificity.”
but that’s it, no greeting, no packing slip, no anything. the return address on the package was:
k. paul
8714 W. Olympic Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90064
i can’t find anything associated with this address on the interwebz. also (and i’m very sorry secret admirer if you are reading this and i assume you are because this gift is rather apropos if you’ve read my blog), this books smells like draino, mothballs and anthrax — all in one. i can’t imagine where this book was stored but something tells me there is a tomahawk and nunchuck collection in the same room.
so i’m not sure if i should be flattered or if you’re trying to poison me and why i keep sniffing the book when clearly i’m inhaling anthrax spores.
i’m pretty sure i should be flattered though because it’s a $17.95 hard cover book (plus UPS shipping). yeah, i looked at the price. like you don’t google the cost of gifts you receive? just like you don’t raid the medicine cabinets of friends and family for unused narcotics? don’t try to punk a punker.
i mean if it’s a really fantastic gift, i won’t spy the price. like this one from absence of alternatives:
i myself am an exceptional gift giver. it’s on my resume cuz it’s a legit talent. in fact, i should be a professional gift buyer. i pride myself on finding just the right gift for the person and not the right priced gift. so no, you won’t see me out on black friday grabbing flannel pajamas for the people on my list just because it’s the doorbuster. i’d much rather spend the extra money and create a splash.
back to the book. being the giving type, i thought i’d share some of the new words i’ve learned from my book. it’s like the motherfucking gift that keeps giving. (this book made me realize i haven’t been cursing nearly enough in my posts lately. so maybe that was the point of the gift.)
nihilarian /NAI ih LAIR ee an/ n — a person with a meaningless job.
“having trouble dragging yourself to the office? nihilarian career services can help. we train thousands for exciting careers in such fields as iguana grooming, figurine arranging and electric toothbrush repair.”
scrag /SKRAG/ n – a lean and bony person
“you can never be too rich or too thin,” the unhappy little scrag said to herself, washing down her guilty feast of half a rice cake and a stalk of celery with a diet protein shake on her way home from ultimate pilates class.”
bedizen /bee DIZ en/ v — to dress in a flashy or vulgar manner.
“most of the time, our aunt martha was a quietly unattractive person. when fully bedizened for a special occasion, however, such as one of her semiannual dates with the local butcher, she transformed in a scarecrow-like monstrosity.”
maybe you could use one of our new words in a sentence. or maybe you can help me identify my secret admirer. or maybe you can tell me the best/worst gift you’ve ever received. just leave me a comment, bitch.
kibosh is a weird word. so is kielbasa. but this post isn’t about sausage. sausage just isn’t as worthy as bacon. bacon is king.
back to kibosh.
know what you can put the kibosh on? i’ll tell you what because it’s my blog and i’ll kibosh if i want to.
you can put the kibosh on low back pain. that’s an imperative and not an auxiliary verb in case you were wondering. so, who can i count on here? (auxiliary)
i somehow injured my lower back and have a constant burning and radiating pain. it’s got me all in a funk because i’m pretty sure it’s going to hurt for a year and a half. maybe two. which means i won’t be able to ever work out or play tennis. and then i’ll become fatty patty. i just know this is how it’s going to play out.
i sit at a desk and write for a living so it tightens up and gets worse everyday. it’s got me so depressed, i’m losing it.
how do i know i’m losing it? i’ve been obsessively:
picking the scab on my heel which means my boot blister is now open and raw again.
clenching the steering wheel of my car like i’m choking it to death.
twirling my hair like a school girl into an alfalfa like horn and tugging on that shit.
one thing i like about blogging is that you never know what may show up in your posts
i wonder what you’ve done for low back pain. keep in mind, i live near and work in a northeastern city so i need the remedy to be fast. i also can’t afford to get fatter. unless it all goes to my boobs. which it won’t.
by the by, i’d also put the kibosh on arm swingers. especially the ones walking slow, holding a cigarette or carrying an umbrella.
and hipsters. they’re so smug and unethusiastic. enthusiasm and passion are way more hip. besides they all look alike making them conformists and not really hipsters.
and boy scout popcorn. at $9 a bag it should have crack in it, like the girl scout cookies. i’m all for supporting the troops, but gimme a little buzz for my money.
