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Wherein I chronicle the horrors I have beheld
ugh, daylight savings time. I left for work at 9:30pm and got home at 9am. Throw in one more hour because of daylight savings time and argh. -.-
Anyway...it was Halloween. Which means its again time for my Vancouver costume round up.
867
Me: “What’s the ID number?”
SC: “Um, xxxx-xx”
A hat. Of course. A fine choice. Truly.
Me: “Alright, and what size?”
SC: “7.”
Me: “……7 what?”
Pro Tip: If you haven’t noticed the sizes are 7-1/2, 7-1/4, 7-1/6 and 7-1/8. So merely saying “7” does not narrow down the scope nor assist me in any way in meeting your grunting simian desires. You are going to have to strain yourself and go that extra mile to figure out how to properly communicate a fraction. However, I am a generous man, so I should give you one hint: It’s not “7 dash 1, uh, line thingie than a 4”. That is an entirely unhelpful statement, though I am able to decipher the gist of your cranial lusts from it. However, this is merely due to years of experience.
867
Me: “Alright, and your phone number please?”
SC: “No phone.”
Normally I would give you the benefit of the doubt however there’s one glaring piece of evidence to the contrary. Unless I am merely facing down the cross eyed inbred gazelle of ignorance rather than the raging Gila monster of stupidity? In which case I want you to listen very carefully. The thing you’re dutifully cradling with your recently acquired opposable thumbs? Yes, that thing. The thing that my voice is magically coming out of. That thing is not actually me. I am a full fledged person not a mystical genie whispering you promises of wishes from my oddly shaped perforated plastic lamp. That thing is merely conveying my voice too you from distant lands. That thing is the phone. You are holding it. You do possess a “phone” as it were. Whether or not you can tell me the 7th chevron required to dial back to said device is another story.
Gah, not again
SC: “They’re taking and taking and taking and they’re takers AND THEY’RE TAKING! I want it back!”
Oh lord, are you still calling? Believe me if I knew what the hell it was I’d give it back to you if only to make you go away. However I’m pretty positive I can’t physically locate, grab, ziplock freezer bag and mail your sanity back to you. I have indeed asked what Brown could do for me, but they just hung up on me when I tried to explain.
Horrible Things I've Said To My Coworkers
( Madonna was playing in town this week and the paper had the headline "Like a 50 Year Old Virgin" on the front. )
CW picks up paper.
CW: "Like a 50 Year Old Virgin?"
Me: "Like peeling open a warm 50 year old grilled cheese sandwich maybe."
CW: ".....aw....awww...ugggggHHH oh GOD WHY?!"
Hot Tips for America
SC: “Death to the US nacroterrorist cock@*&&%~ mother@&#&!”
Me: “Oh! Hello! We haven’t heard from you for a while!”
SC: “You better watch your back you *(&@#sucker )(&&$@ WE'RE GONNA FUCK YOU UP!”
Me: “WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH.”
SC: "()&@%)!!@$~!eleventyseizurecakefrosty!@#"
I was starting to worry! I haven’t heard from you for forever. I guess whatever probation or house arrest you were serving finally expired? Our nights had grown cold and lonely without your near aneurysm frothing rage for us to warm our hands upon. Good to see you back on the horse! Don’t be a stranger now. We always enjoy hearing from you!
What....
( This was 2 days before Halloween. So that's not why.. )
Sooo….Broadway Station. Perfectly normal looking guy gets on. Average in all respects….except he’s wearing a laundry hamper on his head. He didn’t mention it, or touch it, or anything. It was just there. On his head. I don’t know why he was wearing it on his head. Perhaps it was a fashion statement, perhaps he merely forget he put it there or maybe it was even some sort of protective coating keeping the Thetans out of his brainbox. I’m not sure. For all I know he was eloping with it because his family couldn’t accept their love.
Oh come on..
Me: “Ok, and what was the problem?”
SC: “Just have them call me!”
Me: “Ok, I’ll I can leave a message for them-“
SC: “<click>”
You do of course realize that I cannot contact the on call unless this is an actual emergency. Therefore snarling bile & spittle on the phone receiver isn’t going to achieve the outcome you’re hoping for. All you’ve done is ensure the next person to use the phone will have to wipe it down with some sort of disinfecting sanitary wipe. Lest they contract the rage virus.
Me: “Good evening-“
SC: “I still haven’t heard back!”
Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t contact them at this hour unless we know what it’s regarding.”
SC: “Fine! THEY ENTERED MY HOUSE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! They took all my taps and left this THING in their place and its UGLY!”
Whoa whoa whoa, back up. Find something to chew on for a moment while I try to get this straight. If you have a piece of rawhide or something nearby that would be ideal. Though a shoe will serve in a pinch. Anyway, so they entered your house without permission….how? Wouldn’t you have had to let them in somehow? I can’t really see a plumber casing the joint thinking “Dammit! No one home! YET I MUST HAVE THOSE TAPS! NOTHING ELSE CAN COOL MY SCROTUM.” than jimmying open a window so he can meticulously disconnect your faucets, bag them and replace them with hideous substitutes specifically designed to antagonize you. Also, why the hell are you calling at this time of night about it? Did you just notice the taps now? Does this somehow enrage you so much you can’t even sleep?
SC: “I’m so angry I can’t sleep!”
……right, ok. I guess it does. Ugly faucets enrage you so much you can’t sleep? Sooo….don’t sleep in the bathtub?
( Best part was the on call said he'd call her back in the morning. Leading her to tell my coworker to essentially go fuck himself sideways with a lawnchair. )
RIP
Me: “Ok, and what’s your number please?”
SC: “My cell number is about to die.”
You have my deepest condolences for your numerical loss.
Go away.
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Can I get a cab?”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “I do?”
Yes, you and 27 other half tanked porch lickers tonight.
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Do you know what number I have to call?’
1-800-GET-BENT?
TSTST
Serious cases of TSTST on the Skytrain tonight. If you’ve never heard the term before, don’t worry, that’s because I invented it so it mainly only exists in my head. I’m sure you’ll recognize it though: TSTST ( Too Straight To Sit Together ). This is when 8 guys get on the Skytrain and immediately take up 16 seats because sitting next to each other would somehow imply they're gay lovers. If you’re that terrified that brushing your knee against your friend’s knee by accident is somehow going to forever change your relationship there’s probably deeper issues at heart to begin with. I mean we all know every guy is just brief thigh contact away from penis fencing. I know I am.
So just embrace each other now, you’ll both be happier than keeping up this charade of lies and sadness.
I'm a what?
Apparently the whole system is down this morning and no one can log on. So I have cabbies from New York who do not know enough English to accurately express their rage, disdain and outright disgust with my very existence. I’m not even entirely sure what I’m being called at this point. It sounded sort of like “Dog whopper”?
The Best Medicine
Me: “and what’s the problem?”
SC: “We’re running a database check for our store.”
Me: “Ok.”
SC: “and the HD light is coming on.”
Me: “Ok.”
SC: “……”
Me: “……”
SC: “The hard drive is seeking!”
Me: “…yes. Are there any error messages?”
SC: “Uh..no.”
Ee: “…and this is urgent? You need a technician?”
SC: “Yes!”
Let me see if I have this right for the technician. So you’re running database check, a process which requires the accessing and writing of data……and it’s a problem that the HD appears to be accessing and writing data? Isn’t that a good thing? So now you want me to page the tech and tell him your system is doing exactly what its suppose to do and he needs to call you urgently? I feel like I’m missing something of key importance here. Like, you know, an actual problem.
Call me when it bursts into flames and sets your coworker alight and you’re forced to extinguish them by beating them with a bag of Thai Medley frozen stir fry veggies from the cooler because it’s cheaper then wasting a 2L of Coke on him. At least than there’d be a good laugh in it for me. They say laughter is the best medicine. They’re wrong. The best medicine is the human suffering of people you don’t like. But Gravekeeper! You say. That’s horrible! Yes, yes it is, but you know I’m right. Search your feelings. You know it to be true.
Horrible Things I've Said To My Coworkers#2
My graveyard coworker got up and left the room but forgot to turn his station off. So he still has live calls coming in. Which make a constant horrific noise until answered. This was JUST as the floor manager came in that morning too.
CW comes back.
Me: "Turn OFF before you leave, you whore."
FM: "Dude....did you just call CW a whore?"
Me: ".....yes?"
FM: ".........hahaha."
Planning Ahead
SC: “Yes I need to book a room at <resort>.”
Me: “Unfortunately our travel agents are not back in till the morning, I can-“
SC: “I can’t book a room now?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “But my flight leaves in an hour and a half!”
Wait wait, you’re going on vacation and didn’t think to book the actual resort until an hour and a half before your filght leaves? Way to plan ahead, Ernest. Did you even buy tickets for the flight yet or were you just going to show up at the terminal and try to slip the gate attendant a $20 and a Starbuck’s gift card?
867
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Um, hi.”
Me: “Hello.”
SC: “……”
Me: “…..can I help you?”
SC: “um….wait….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “<click>”
Yes, that’s right. You actually have to interact with another human being to obtain pants, hats and all manner of wondrous things. You cannot simply pick up the phone, dial the number and then wish your order to me. I believe I’ve stated this before but I am not a genie.
Granville Street Costume Round Up
It’s Halloween…you know what that means. Time for the Granville costume round up! Let us begin:
Elmo:
Every year without fail there’s always a guy in a full body suit costume from Sesame Street and every year he’s doing something horribly inappropriate to ruin your childhood. Such as feverishly humping a lamppost. Yes, there’s nothing quite like the mental image of Elmo giving it to public property. Bad Elmo, bad.
I Don’t Have a Real Costume ( Male Edition ):
Solution? Just take a bunch of random articles of clothing you already own but would not normally wear together ( Winter Coat + Pajamas? Win! ) and add A) Suspenders, B) A toque or C) Oversized novelty glasses. Viola! Instant Halloween costume! Congratulations you’re now dressed like an utter, complete, all encompassing dashboard chewing wonder twit. But unfortunately, you’ve missed the point of Halloween. You’re suppose to dress up as something you’re not. Otherwise it’s not technically a costume.
I Don’t Have a Real Costume ( Female Edition ):
So I’ll just dress like a whore!
Nefertiti:
This took me a moment to figure out. Since my first impression was “What the hell is on your face?”. It took me a minute to figure out what you were trying to accomplish when you assaulted yourself with mascara in the rear view mirror of a moving vehicle. In the dark. While you yourself were driving. A motorcycle. Than you added a 50 cent “Egyptian” head dress. Which apparently blew the last of your budget so you decided to just finish it off with a skirt and high heels. Because that’s what I think when I think Egypt: Hooker red heels and matching “Teehee! I have Halloween panties on!” length miniskirt.
You know if I remember my Discovery channel specials, Nefertiti died a slow, horrible, agonizing death confined to her bed. Perhaps you can strive to at least get that part right.
Jabba the SWAT:
You actually had a really good costume. It just had one key flaw: SWAT teams have physical fitness requirements. You on the other hand do not.
Tranny Surprise:
You are perhaps the most horrifying creature I saw this evening on my way to work. You were stumbling down Granville in a horrible flower print sun dress, white lace stockings that gave a glorious view of your immense reserve of curly body hair, a dollar store blond wig and of course a chest stuffed full of balloons. The Surprise part came in when you started bumping into people intentionally with your giant inflatable breasts then attempting to seductively croon “Oops! I’m soooooo sorry.” while you lustily pawed at their arm.
Hardcore Harry:
I have no idea what you were attempting to accomplish, but you did manage to pull on a wig and scrawl a cross on your chest in permanent marker so I’ll give you a few points there. If only because it’ll probably be 2 months before it washes off completely and with any luck will somehow poison you by being absorbed through the skin.
The Pimp™:
I have a little tip for all you guys that think you’re clever choosing this costume option: Do not dress up as a person whose profession it is to sell women when you yourself look like the only hope you would ever have is if you purchased women.
Tranny Reprise:
Yes, a clever idea. Get your girlfriend to dress up in your cloths and you dress up in hers! Role reversal! We’re so cute! With just one slight problem: Your girlfriend is small and petite. Whereas you have the hips and face of a rhino. I can almost hear that dress screaming in anguish from here and those dainty knee high stockings will never be the same again.
Weed Hobo:
Actually I don’t think that was a costume. But the way you were screaming “Come back here! I’m not done with you yet!” in the manner of a Scooby Doo villain at all the meddling kids as they walked by you is worth something at least. But I thought weed was suppose to mellow you out? You might want to take bigger hits.
The Pink Witch:
Witches are not pink unless you’re 8 years old. Or are you supposed to be some sort of ballerina princess? Though again, I must point out you’re about 25 years too old to wear that kind of costume. Both literally and figuratively judging by how horrifyingly tight it is. I can see things under that costume that no one outside of a medical professional should have to see. Both sets of lips were clearly clenched in abject agony.
If you pass out from lack of air they’ll need to call in bomb squad to cut you free. Trying to cut that loose without sufficient protection would be suicide.
Dolly Parton:
I only know what you were suppose to be because you were telling your friends. But I must point out you’re missing to very large key elements in your costume. But don’t worry, you can borrow them from the guy coming up the street in the sun dress.
Dollar Store Pirate:
Damn! I need a costume quick but I only have a $1.35 and my friend is already going as a dashboard chewing wonder twit! What do I do?! Wait, I know! ARRRR~!
Count Couldn’t Care Less:
I didn’t want to buy a real costume so I cut this mask out from the back of a box of Count Chocula to make my girlfriend happy. Only she’s not happy. But like, you know, whatever. Halloween is stupid. I’m so blogging how stupid this on MySpace when I get home. Everything sucks.
Yes I can ruin any holiday. I look forward to ruining Christmas too.
Anyway...it was Halloween. Which means its again time for my Vancouver costume round up.
867
Me: “What’s the ID number?”
SC: “Um, xxxx-xx”
A hat. Of course. A fine choice. Truly.
Me: “Alright, and what size?”
SC: “7.”
Me: “……7 what?”
Pro Tip: If you haven’t noticed the sizes are 7-1/2, 7-1/4, 7-1/6 and 7-1/8. So merely saying “7” does not narrow down the scope nor assist me in any way in meeting your grunting simian desires. You are going to have to strain yourself and go that extra mile to figure out how to properly communicate a fraction. However, I am a generous man, so I should give you one hint: It’s not “7 dash 1, uh, line thingie than a 4”. That is an entirely unhelpful statement, though I am able to decipher the gist of your cranial lusts from it. However, this is merely due to years of experience.
867
Me: “Alright, and your phone number please?”
SC: “No phone.”
Normally I would give you the benefit of the doubt however there’s one glaring piece of evidence to the contrary. Unless I am merely facing down the cross eyed inbred gazelle of ignorance rather than the raging Gila monster of stupidity? In which case I want you to listen very carefully. The thing you’re dutifully cradling with your recently acquired opposable thumbs? Yes, that thing. The thing that my voice is magically coming out of. That thing is not actually me. I am a full fledged person not a mystical genie whispering you promises of wishes from my oddly shaped perforated plastic lamp. That thing is merely conveying my voice too you from distant lands. That thing is the phone. You are holding it. You do possess a “phone” as it were. Whether or not you can tell me the 7th chevron required to dial back to said device is another story.
Gah, not again
SC: “They’re taking and taking and taking and they’re takers AND THEY’RE TAKING! I want it back!”
Oh lord, are you still calling? Believe me if I knew what the hell it was I’d give it back to you if only to make you go away. However I’m pretty positive I can’t physically locate, grab, ziplock freezer bag and mail your sanity back to you. I have indeed asked what Brown could do for me, but they just hung up on me when I tried to explain.
Horrible Things I've Said To My Coworkers
( Madonna was playing in town this week and the paper had the headline "Like a 50 Year Old Virgin" on the front. )
CW picks up paper.
CW: "Like a 50 Year Old Virgin?"
Me: "Like peeling open a warm 50 year old grilled cheese sandwich maybe."
CW: ".....aw....awww...ugggggHHH oh GOD WHY?!"
Hot Tips for America
SC: “Death to the US nacroterrorist cock@*&&%~ mother@&#&!”
Me: “Oh! Hello! We haven’t heard from you for a while!”
SC: “You better watch your back you *(&@#sucker )(&&$@ WE'RE GONNA FUCK YOU UP!”
Me: “WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH.”
SC: "()&@%)!!@$~!eleventyseizurecakefrosty!@#"
I was starting to worry! I haven’t heard from you for forever. I guess whatever probation or house arrest you were serving finally expired? Our nights had grown cold and lonely without your near aneurysm frothing rage for us to warm our hands upon. Good to see you back on the horse! Don’t be a stranger now. We always enjoy hearing from you!
What....
( This was 2 days before Halloween. So that's not why.. )
Sooo….Broadway Station. Perfectly normal looking guy gets on. Average in all respects….except he’s wearing a laundry hamper on his head. He didn’t mention it, or touch it, or anything. It was just there. On his head. I don’t know why he was wearing it on his head. Perhaps it was a fashion statement, perhaps he merely forget he put it there or maybe it was even some sort of protective coating keeping the Thetans out of his brainbox. I’m not sure. For all I know he was eloping with it because his family couldn’t accept their love.
Oh come on..
Me: “Ok, and what was the problem?”
SC: “Just have them call me!”
Me: “Ok, I’ll I can leave a message for them-“
SC: “<click>”
You do of course realize that I cannot contact the on call unless this is an actual emergency. Therefore snarling bile & spittle on the phone receiver isn’t going to achieve the outcome you’re hoping for. All you’ve done is ensure the next person to use the phone will have to wipe it down with some sort of disinfecting sanitary wipe. Lest they contract the rage virus.
Me: “Good evening-“
SC: “I still haven’t heard back!”
Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t contact them at this hour unless we know what it’s regarding.”
SC: “Fine! THEY ENTERED MY HOUSE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! They took all my taps and left this THING in their place and its UGLY!”
Whoa whoa whoa, back up. Find something to chew on for a moment while I try to get this straight. If you have a piece of rawhide or something nearby that would be ideal. Though a shoe will serve in a pinch. Anyway, so they entered your house without permission….how? Wouldn’t you have had to let them in somehow? I can’t really see a plumber casing the joint thinking “Dammit! No one home! YET I MUST HAVE THOSE TAPS! NOTHING ELSE CAN COOL MY SCROTUM.” than jimmying open a window so he can meticulously disconnect your faucets, bag them and replace them with hideous substitutes specifically designed to antagonize you. Also, why the hell are you calling at this time of night about it? Did you just notice the taps now? Does this somehow enrage you so much you can’t even sleep?
SC: “I’m so angry I can’t sleep!”
……right, ok. I guess it does. Ugly faucets enrage you so much you can’t sleep? Sooo….don’t sleep in the bathtub?
( Best part was the on call said he'd call her back in the morning. Leading her to tell my coworker to essentially go fuck himself sideways with a lawnchair. )
RIP
Me: “Ok, and what’s your number please?”
SC: “My cell number is about to die.”
You have my deepest condolences for your numerical loss.
Go away.
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Can I get a cab?”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “I do?”
Yes, you and 27 other half tanked porch lickers tonight.
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Do you know what number I have to call?’
1-800-GET-BENT?
TSTST
Serious cases of TSTST on the Skytrain tonight. If you’ve never heard the term before, don’t worry, that’s because I invented it so it mainly only exists in my head. I’m sure you’ll recognize it though: TSTST ( Too Straight To Sit Together ). This is when 8 guys get on the Skytrain and immediately take up 16 seats because sitting next to each other would somehow imply they're gay lovers. If you’re that terrified that brushing your knee against your friend’s knee by accident is somehow going to forever change your relationship there’s probably deeper issues at heart to begin with. I mean we all know every guy is just brief thigh contact away from penis fencing. I know I am.
So just embrace each other now, you’ll both be happier than keeping up this charade of lies and sadness.
I'm a what?
Apparently the whole system is down this morning and no one can log on. So I have cabbies from New York who do not know enough English to accurately express their rage, disdain and outright disgust with my very existence. I’m not even entirely sure what I’m being called at this point. It sounded sort of like “Dog whopper”?
The Best Medicine
Me: “and what’s the problem?”
SC: “We’re running a database check for our store.”
Me: “Ok.”
SC: “and the HD light is coming on.”
Me: “Ok.”
SC: “……”
Me: “……”
SC: “The hard drive is seeking!”
Me: “…yes. Are there any error messages?”
SC: “Uh..no.”
Ee: “…and this is urgent? You need a technician?”
SC: “Yes!”
Let me see if I have this right for the technician. So you’re running database check, a process which requires the accessing and writing of data……and it’s a problem that the HD appears to be accessing and writing data? Isn’t that a good thing? So now you want me to page the tech and tell him your system is doing exactly what its suppose to do and he needs to call you urgently? I feel like I’m missing something of key importance here. Like, you know, an actual problem.
Call me when it bursts into flames and sets your coworker alight and you’re forced to extinguish them by beating them with a bag of Thai Medley frozen stir fry veggies from the cooler because it’s cheaper then wasting a 2L of Coke on him. At least than there’d be a good laugh in it for me. They say laughter is the best medicine. They’re wrong. The best medicine is the human suffering of people you don’t like. But Gravekeeper! You say. That’s horrible! Yes, yes it is, but you know I’m right. Search your feelings. You know it to be true.
Horrible Things I've Said To My Coworkers#2
My graveyard coworker got up and left the room but forgot to turn his station off. So he still has live calls coming in. Which make a constant horrific noise until answered. This was JUST as the floor manager came in that morning too.
CW comes back.
Me: "Turn OFF before you leave, you whore."
FM: "Dude....did you just call CW a whore?"
Me: ".....yes?"
FM: ".........hahaha."
Planning Ahead
SC: “Yes I need to book a room at <resort>.”
Me: “Unfortunately our travel agents are not back in till the morning, I can-“
SC: “I can’t book a room now?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “But my flight leaves in an hour and a half!”
Wait wait, you’re going on vacation and didn’t think to book the actual resort until an hour and a half before your filght leaves? Way to plan ahead, Ernest. Did you even buy tickets for the flight yet or were you just going to show up at the terminal and try to slip the gate attendant a $20 and a Starbuck’s gift card?
867
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Um, hi.”
Me: “Hello.”
SC: “……”
Me: “…..can I help you?”
SC: “um….wait….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “<click>”
Yes, that’s right. You actually have to interact with another human being to obtain pants, hats and all manner of wondrous things. You cannot simply pick up the phone, dial the number and then wish your order to me. I believe I’ve stated this before but I am not a genie.
Granville Street Costume Round Up
It’s Halloween…you know what that means. Time for the Granville costume round up! Let us begin:
Elmo:
Every year without fail there’s always a guy in a full body suit costume from Sesame Street and every year he’s doing something horribly inappropriate to ruin your childhood. Such as feverishly humping a lamppost. Yes, there’s nothing quite like the mental image of Elmo giving it to public property. Bad Elmo, bad.
I Don’t Have a Real Costume ( Male Edition ):
Solution? Just take a bunch of random articles of clothing you already own but would not normally wear together ( Winter Coat + Pajamas? Win! ) and add A) Suspenders, B) A toque or C) Oversized novelty glasses. Viola! Instant Halloween costume! Congratulations you’re now dressed like an utter, complete, all encompassing dashboard chewing wonder twit. But unfortunately, you’ve missed the point of Halloween. You’re suppose to dress up as something you’re not. Otherwise it’s not technically a costume.
I Don’t Have a Real Costume ( Female Edition ):
So I’ll just dress like a whore!
Nefertiti:
This took me a moment to figure out. Since my first impression was “What the hell is on your face?”. It took me a minute to figure out what you were trying to accomplish when you assaulted yourself with mascara in the rear view mirror of a moving vehicle. In the dark. While you yourself were driving. A motorcycle. Than you added a 50 cent “Egyptian” head dress. Which apparently blew the last of your budget so you decided to just finish it off with a skirt and high heels. Because that’s what I think when I think Egypt: Hooker red heels and matching “Teehee! I have Halloween panties on!” length miniskirt.
You know if I remember my Discovery channel specials, Nefertiti died a slow, horrible, agonizing death confined to her bed. Perhaps you can strive to at least get that part right.
Jabba the SWAT:
You actually had a really good costume. It just had one key flaw: SWAT teams have physical fitness requirements. You on the other hand do not.
Tranny Surprise:
You are perhaps the most horrifying creature I saw this evening on my way to work. You were stumbling down Granville in a horrible flower print sun dress, white lace stockings that gave a glorious view of your immense reserve of curly body hair, a dollar store blond wig and of course a chest stuffed full of balloons. The Surprise part came in when you started bumping into people intentionally with your giant inflatable breasts then attempting to seductively croon “Oops! I’m soooooo sorry.” while you lustily pawed at their arm.
Hardcore Harry:
I have no idea what you were attempting to accomplish, but you did manage to pull on a wig and scrawl a cross on your chest in permanent marker so I’ll give you a few points there. If only because it’ll probably be 2 months before it washes off completely and with any luck will somehow poison you by being absorbed through the skin.
The Pimp™:
I have a little tip for all you guys that think you’re clever choosing this costume option: Do not dress up as a person whose profession it is to sell women when you yourself look like the only hope you would ever have is if you purchased women.
Tranny Reprise:
Yes, a clever idea. Get your girlfriend to dress up in your cloths and you dress up in hers! Role reversal! We’re so cute! With just one slight problem: Your girlfriend is small and petite. Whereas you have the hips and face of a rhino. I can almost hear that dress screaming in anguish from here and those dainty knee high stockings will never be the same again.
Weed Hobo:
Actually I don’t think that was a costume. But the way you were screaming “Come back here! I’m not done with you yet!” in the manner of a Scooby Doo villain at all the meddling kids as they walked by you is worth something at least. But I thought weed was suppose to mellow you out? You might want to take bigger hits.
The Pink Witch:
Witches are not pink unless you’re 8 years old. Or are you supposed to be some sort of ballerina princess? Though again, I must point out you’re about 25 years too old to wear that kind of costume. Both literally and figuratively judging by how horrifyingly tight it is. I can see things under that costume that no one outside of a medical professional should have to see. Both sets of lips were clearly clenched in abject agony.
If you pass out from lack of air they’ll need to call in bomb squad to cut you free. Trying to cut that loose without sufficient protection would be suicide.
Dolly Parton:
I only know what you were suppose to be because you were telling your friends. But I must point out you’re missing to very large key elements in your costume. But don’t worry, you can borrow them from the guy coming up the street in the sun dress.
Dollar Store Pirate:
Damn! I need a costume quick but I only have a $1.35 and my friend is already going as a dashboard chewing wonder twit! What do I do?! Wait, I know! ARRRR~!
Count Couldn’t Care Less:
I didn’t want to buy a real costume so I cut this mask out from the back of a box of Count Chocula to make my girlfriend happy. Only she’s not happy. But like, you know, whatever. Halloween is stupid. I’m so blogging how stupid this on MySpace when I get home. Everything sucks.
Yes I can ruin any holiday. I look forward to ruining Christmas too.
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