It's Like 'Purple Monkey Dishwasher', Only Not...
I've heard a lot of strange if not snicker-inducing nicknames for the male gentials before. But (and I quote the Pron spam on this one)
Purple-Headed Yogurt Thrower is a new one. It really does make me wonder if somewhere out there on the Net, there's some sort of generator that takes a lot of random words loaded with sexual innuendo, and just rearranges them in something that makes sense only when you're half-drunk or mostly delusional.
Though this has proven to be the cleverest pron-spam I've seen in a long time. These days, most of them are telling me I don't have to settle for having such a flat chest, and something about horses and the badgers who love them. I'm not asking, I'm not clicking. The last time curiousity took hold, I discovered that there are some orifices you just weren't meant to stick a human head into.
As for clever pron-spam, as oxymoronic as it sounds, I'm starting to think that the spammers are just getting lazy. Colourful analogies for sex are becoming endangered, and ridiculous claims of a sexual nature are being (pardon the phrasing) too blunt & blase to make me laugh. I may not be one to relish the idea of my Inbox being riddled with pron-spam each and every day, but at the rate they're going I think I'll have to finally admit the truth to them: I've faked every click to their site.
In other news of a not so double ententre nature, our store finally got in its new computer system today. I had to show up an hour before anything opened to help set it up, but it's always nice to have a District Manager who's just as equally disgruntled at having to be there far too early to set everything up. I'm actually impressed with the new computer for a few reasons, and the first two I sadly can't take home with me as souvenirs--that being the flatscreen monitor and the Inkjet printer.
What impresses me the most is that using the programs seems to be able to fend off 9 out of 10 idiots. And so far I haven't been that 10th idiot. Though there was that little incident where I pressed a button and the computer cheerfully announced, "You have now armed this system."
I subsequently took my lunch break, and when I returned helped my manager stuff the bodies of the unfortunate customers who came into the store (and thusly into the kill zone) into some of the suitcases in the storeroom that will never see the light of day. Now I know some of you are saying right now, "But you fool! Won't those bodies smell after a few days?"
Ah, but there's the brilliance of my plan, for I have thought ahead! All we have to do is transfer the coffins--er, suitcases out of our store, and ship them to another store. It gets rid of the smell and the problem. And if anyone at the other store complains about finding a corpse inside, we can just say, "Hey! The suitcases came like that to us; we were just following Head Office's orders to send 'em to you guys!"
No doubt a number of you are shaking your heads at either my macabre sense of humour, or my flagrant disregard for the preciousness of human lives. I suppose now this wouldn't be the best time for me to talk about my latest idea: Soilent Weed, where we smoke the dead....
Today's Lesson: restful quiet can be found in the most unexpected of places, in the most unexpected of times, and it never fails to make you feel guilty for having discovered and enjoyed it.
posted by Phillip at 6:36 PM
