JACKASS PATROL: Patrolling Jackasses Since 2008

A Few Thoughts on Office Bathroom Etiquette

2009-03-26T21:03:00.000-07:00

I just have this weird hang-up where I don't like to hear other people scratching themselves in the office restroom.

Like, yeah, I know that once you enter and close the door of a bathroom stall, it is really your space to use as you please. You can use the toilet, you can check your text messages, and you can scratch yourself anywhere that itches. I'm not trying to be dirty here - women who wear tights or other binding garments often get itches in the seam areas along the thighs. BUT. I don't want to hear the scratching. One quick "SKRITCH", that's fine. But when I'm four stalls down and trying to take care of business, I do NOT want to hear a long, drawn out scratching session - especially not one punctuated with an audible sigh.

And while we're on the subject of behavior in the office restroom - and I am talking about an office restroom at the prestigious corporate headquarters of a Fortune 500 company - why can't grown women remember to flush the goddamn toilet? Like I just said, it's not like I work at Wal-Mart or an adult video superstore or some other place where you might expect bathroom anarchy. I work in product development for a company that shall remain nameless (but if you ask me directly, I'll tell you). And apparently I work with some women who have forgotten how to operate a toilet.

I have never - NEVER - been rushed to the point where I didn't have time to flush the toilet. I can just imagine someone thinking to herself "Shit! I am so late for this meeting! But I just urinated, and now I need to flush...FUCK IT! THERE'S NO TIME!"

The only other possibility is that people are forgetting to flush, and if that is the case, I sure hope these aren't the same people who are calculating my payroll.

I suppose there is also the additional possibility that they thought they had flushed, but indeed the flush was "incomplete". I like to pride myself on being able to recognize the sound of an incomplete flush and take corrective action if necessary.

There are also women at my office who like to brush their teeth in the restroom. Now, this is not nearly as disgusting as abandoning a full toilet, but no less irritating. How bad do your teeth have to get in order for you to start brushing them at work, after lunch? What, do you have fucking stage 5 gingivitis?

And don't even get me started about the people who use the bathroom as kind of an informal place to catch up with old friends. Come on ladies, don't you know that's what the elevator is for?

In conclusion, I would like my own private bathroom, with a solid-gold toilet and a huge flatscreen tv showing "Law & Order" 24 hours a day. Sam Waterston relaxes me.

Let's Be Honest - Just Kidding!

2009-03-09T21:39:00.000-07:00

I know I'm not going to make any friends with this one.

But it's time to be honest. It's time to declare "Just kidding!" the Official Jackass Phrase.

I don't know if there is any common phrase that I dislike more than "Just kidding!" (except maybe "Just kidding!!!!!" with additional superfluous exclamation points). "Just kidding!" is the family-friendly, passive-aggressive "Fuck You!", used primarily by lazy people who don't have the balls to stand behind whatever it is that they need to tell you.

Seriously, what purpose does "Just kidding!" serve except to shyly back away from whatever it was you just stated?

And there can only be two reasons why you need to back away from your statement:
1. Your statement was a legitimate complaint that you needed to express, but you are afraid that expressing it whole-heartedly will cause you to lose your job/friend/friend who always pays for things, including first-run movies.
Example: "Wow, okay, I feel like I have revised this so many times that it has lost any sense of integrity. Just kidding!"
2. Your statement was actually just mean, insulting and pointless, and rather than apologizing for your thoughtlessness, you tack on the "Just Kidding!" to make it better.
Example: "God, I mean, your calves are so fat that I don't even know why you TRY to buy riding boots! Just kidding!"

And here's how tacking on the "Just kidding!" actually makes the situation worse:
1. In situation 1, your boss/coworker/friend/friend with bottomless wallet will quickly recognize that "Just Kidding!" as a sign of your spinelessness and assume that you are incapable of effectively asserting yourself. Welcome to bottom of the barrel status!
2. In situation 2 - and I know this seems crazy - but the person you insulted will actually still feel insulted by your comment even though you stuck on the "Just kidding!" at the end, and will cry themselves to sleep while plotting way to inflict bodily harm upon you (probably involving sandpaper and a set of pinking shears).

The most common way to apply "Just kidding!", however, is probably within the context of an email. This seems almost worse to me, as it seems mandatory for the phrase to be accompanied by an emoticon.

Here's a little secret about me: I FUCKING HATE EMOTICONS.

Yeah, I get it. Email is incredibly impersonal. People have found emoticons to be a good work-around for conveying the correct tone. Feeling playful? Why not stick a little winking smiley man on the end of your sentence? Feeling pissed? Let Mr. Frowny Face do the talking for you!

But sticking the smiley face at the end of "Just kidding! :)" THAT just adds insult to injury. It's like pushing your friend's mother down the stairs and then handing them a gift certificate to Arby's.

Plus it makes you look like a first-class jackass.

JACKASS PATROL IS ON THE WAY BACK

2009-03-09T21:29:00.001-07:00

Watch out, because I eat anything that's in my line of sight.

And Now, Some Thoughts on Fantasy Sports

2008-10-21T12:38:00.000-07:00

Soooo...yeah. Fantasy sports.

Official Jackass Time-Waster.

Seriously, does anyone engage in the "playing" of fantasy sports for any other reason than to waste time at work? I am pretty sure that is the only reason why the entire genre of fantasy sports exists at all. So that you can "be working" on something all day at work (i.e. setting your line-up, trading players, etc) that actually kind of looks like you could be working.

I know some people - ahem - who actually get to use work time to hold their officially work-sanctioned fantasy draft. And no, I am not just talking about the people I have known that worked for ESPN.com. Although, as I understand it (and it's been a while so I may have this wrong), employees at ESPN.com were basically required to have a fantasy team for every fantasy sport that ESPN.com offered - including fantasy bass fishing - although they were of course ineligible to win any money should their "bass fishing team" actually prevail. Kind of a let down, after all those hours spent researching the best bass fishermen in the U.S.A., ranking them according to skill (gutting, scaling, casting, etc) and then assembling a veritable Bass Dream Team, but whatever.

Due to my unique life experiences, I have a little bit of knowledge about fantasy baseball, and I have seen how this particular fantasy game has a way of taking over one's life. Team emails. Team phone calls. Pages of random stats scattered around the house. Throwing around the term "on base percentage" as if it actually meant something in the real world. (Actually I think it might but that's not important right now.)

I also know a little something about fantasy football. Apparently this is how you play it: the night before the draft, you spend 4 hours working on a "magic formula" that will allow you to draft the best team possible under any given circumstances. After the draft, you pop open a cold one and express your frustration at how shitty the draft was. After three weeks of revising your team, setting your line-up and substituting players, you give up from sheer exhaustion and apathy. That first week you stop setting your line-up is the first week you actually win. That's right, the week you stop caring is the week you start winning. The obvious lesson here? Care less, win more. What could be a more fabulous way to approach life?!?

I guess there are probably worse ways that one could waste time. I mean, at least fantasy sports engage your mind to some degree...some amazingly pointless degree. But it's better than spending your whole day looking at sexy, sexy Halloween porn.

Oh god.
http://www.buycostumes.com/Wide-Receiver-Sexy-Adult-Costume/31938/ProductDetail.aspx

And this is the part where I shout out to Brent J.

"Sexy" Halloween Costumes - Official Jackass Holiday Attire

2008-09-29T15:05:00.000-07:00

As an adult, for almost every Halloween, I have dressed up as some kind of zombie. Yes, I like to dress up for Halloween, even if I am not going to a party. I like to drive to work in full zombie makeup, frightening the passengers in the cars next to mine. I like running errands as a zombie. And I have been all kinds of zombies - a zombie fast food worker, zombie geisha, zombie Hawaiian tourist, zombie from the 80s - but I have never, ever been a sexy zombie.

What has happened in our society that these "sexy" Halloween costumes are now the norm for women? Have we forgotten that Halloween is supposed to be about fright, not about boobs? It seems as if Halloween has become just another excuse for women (and, sadly, girls) to prance around in provocative clothing, attracting attention both wanted and unwanted.

I realize I might sound like a prude here. But there are times and places for sexy clothing, and Halloween is not one of them. For instance, if you want to wear a Hooters outfit, why not get a job at Hooters? Then you can wear that outfit year round! Think of the fun you'll have, wearing those tiny nylon shorts not just one day, but every day! Think how fun it'll be to splash hot sauce onto your heaving breasts in hopes of receiving just a few more extra dollars when you get your tips at the end of the night!

And if you want to dress as a sexy nurse, why not get a job as a sexy nurse? I'm sure there are plenty of lascivious octagenerians who need tending to!

Now, if you want to be a sexy witch, it is a little harder to find a job. There is pretty much only one sexy witch job and Elvira has "filled out" that position for quite a while now. Unless you start an all-witch strip club.

Wait a minute. That is a fantastic idea. A strip club that specializes in sexy Halloween ladies! All year long! On that stage, sexy Girl Scouts! On this stage, sexy angels and devils! On the stage in the back, sexy Dorothy and her sexy dog Toto. I'm going to start looking for venture capital right now.

In the meantime, let's try to keep Halloween pure. Meaning, let's keep it focused on vampires, mummies, zombies, and assorted Frankensteins. Black cats and ugly witches, skeletons, evil clowns, pirates, and demon heads on turtle bodies. Let's stay traditional.

Thanks to Stephanie P. for the suggestion.

Stop the Presses!

2008-09-22T15:00:00.001-07:00

Long John Silver's has Popcorn LOBSTER!

"Popcorn" Food - Official Jackass Snack

2008-09-22T14:35:00.000-07:00

So, yeah. Look. I'm not a snob. I like "popcorn" food as much as the next jackass. I mean, popcorn chicken? Yum! Popcorn shrimp? Yes, please!

But seriously, I mean, do we really need to cut our food up into bite-size portions and then individually fry those pieces until they are completely unrecognizable? Are we a nation of toddlers?

Why do we even bother with the "protein center" in the middle of these popcorn nuggets? I mean, what we really want is something salty, fried, and easily consumed right? Wouldn't it be cheaper to just eat tiny fried dough balls? Or - wait - tiny balls of battered and fried popcorn! Popcorn Popcorn! Oh my god, please tell me that I am the first person to think of this.

As I said earlier, I am not going to deny that "popcorn"-style food is delicious. But just because something is delicious does not mean that we should be proud to eat it. I am guessing that a human rump roast would taste pretty good, but that doesn't mean we go around eating our neighbors.

To me, the whole idea of "I don't cook, I don't like to think about the fact that what I am eating came from an actual chicken, I like fried things, and I like my food to come in a whimsically striped box" is just pure jackass. If you're going to eat chicken, you should have to roast a whole one and tear the tasty flesh away from the bones. Sure, it's creepy when you're holding the uncooked bird in your palm, washing it under the faucet and thinking to yourself "Wow, this feels like a human baby in my hand. And I'm going to cook it and eat it." But that's part of taking responsibility for your food.

Having said all this, I'd really like to attend an all-you-can-eat popcorn shrimp bonanza, because I am really curious to see exactly how much popcorn shrimp I can eat. Like, pound-wise. Two pounds? Is that a lot?

I want to see just how much of a jackass I can be. Where do they have these things - Red Lobster? Has anyone ever eaten at Red Lobster? Because I haven't. I want to put on a scarf with a t-shirt, put on my new aviator sunglasses (which are super-jackass and I will write about them later), stroll into a Red Lobster and eat pound after pound of popcorn shrimp. And I won't stop until they run out of shrimp or until I stop breathing. I'm telling you, it's going to be close.

Thanks to Terry W. ("Mom") for the suggestion.

Sorry For The Interruption

2008-09-19T08:35:00.000-07:00

I apologize, fellow Jackass Patrollers, for the lapse in Jackass Patrolling over the past few weeks. There has been some serious turmoil over here in Jackass Patrol Country (which is a lot like Marlboro Country, except no one smokes, and I hate horses). But I promised myself that this blog would not become a public forum for discussing my personal life - no "live journal", so to speak - and so focused on jackasses I shall remain.

It has been difficult to find things to laugh about, however, when what I really want to do is go to the hardware store, buy a shovel, drive out to Lake Sammamish, start digging a hole the size of my body, climb into the hole, lay down, look around for a blanket, and wonder why I didn't remember to bring a blanket. Like I said, it's been a tough few weeks. And Lake Sammamish seems like the absolute saddest place to dig a hole and lie in it, considering Lake Sammamish's sad and sordid history - Ted Bundy buried several of his victims there (and later returned to exhume said victims and enjoy sexual relations with their bodies).

I feel like I am digressing here.

I think that maybe if I start patrolling jackasses once again, I can have something to focus on besides the whole hole-digging-thing. I have gotten some great jackass suggestions from readers too. But last night I was inspired by something I didn't expect to be inspired by.

Last night I came home, put on the Food Network, and made myself some dinner. Then I ate it while watching the Food Network. This is my normal evening routine. The Food Network is like my dinner companion, offering me mildly interesting one-sided conversation and absolutely no judgement. Often, because of the time I usually arrive home from work, I will be watching one of Paula Deen's cooking shows. She appears to have a couple - Paula's Home Cooking and Paula's Best Dishes. They also appear to be interchangable.

Now, it should be stated that I love Paula Deen. In fact, I love almost all of the people on the Food Network - especially the people who have gotten themselves there not through cooking prowess but through sheer grit and tenacity (a.k.a. Sandra Lee). I used to tape, on an actual VCR, Paula Deen's program when it first came on the network. Her sticky-sweet southern drawl, her love of butter, her propensity for rolling her eyes backwards in a gesture of divine ecstasy when tasting her own food - I loved all of these things. And I especially loved her food. As as child of the East Coast and an adult of the West Coast, I have had very, very few opportunities to taste Southern food. Crunchy, salty, mushy, drippy, butter-slathered Southern food. MMMM! I can almost taste it, virtually!

Lately, however, I can tell that Paula is getting stretched a little thin. She has, as I discussed above, multiple programs on the network, including some atrocity called Paula's Party that I refuse to watch based solely on my hatred for shows taped with the inclusion of a live audience (I hate unpredictablity). I believe that Paula's recipe well may have run dry.

So, getting down to the jackassery... last night, Paula's show was themed around afternoon snacks. And the first third of the show was dedicated to her sharing her recipe for - wait for it - english muffin pizza.

ENGLISH MUFFIN PIZZA.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is a woman who is being paid hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars to have her cooking talents featured on a cable network and in advertisements for Smithfield Ham. This woman is raking in more money than I will ever see in my lifetime. This woman is on TV making an ENGLISH MUFFIN PIZZA!!!!

(Side note: if anyone from the McCain/Palin camp reads this post, I will immediately be labeled "sexist" just for the fact that I am complaining about someone and referring to them as a "woman" within the context of that complaint.)

Anyone, anyone, anyone at all can make an english muffin pizza. Toddlers. College students. The elderly. The morbidly obese. Full-grown bobcats. Yes, even complete and total fucking morons like Sarah Palin can make english muffin pizzas. It's like being paid to present a recipe on TV for cold cereal with milk. IT'S LIKE BEING PAID TO SHOW HOW TO MAKE TOAST. It's offensive. It's offensive and upsetting. I am afraid that Paula Deen has become Pure Jackass.

And with that, let the complaining re-commence.

Jackass Patrol Word of the Day: Torque

2008-09-02T13:09:00.000-07:00

Torque.

Nobody knows what this word means, and yet it is constantly used by jackasses to describe things (most commonly, cars). Just the sound of the word conjures up the idea of power and strength - like the image of 380 horses running in unison along the side of a hardscrabble mountain. Oh wait... maybe that's an image that better describes horsepower. The point is - the word "torque" is thrown around like everyone knows what it means, and what it means is bad-ass masculine force.

It's like those jackasses that drive the car with the ad campaign "Yeah, It's Got a Hemi". Then they go out and buy a custom license plate holder that says the same thing. Does anyone know what the hell a "hemi" is or what it does? No. No one does, not even the automakers. Displaying that on your license plate holder is like displaying the phrase "Yeah, I Believe In Meaningless Catchphrases." Why not get a license plate holder that says "Yeah, It's Got a Carburetor". Or "Yeah, It's Got a Fan Belt."

But I digress. My boyfriend tried to explain to me that "torque" is a word to describe a twisting force, but I say, to hell with that. It's meaningless pseudo-French gibberish that men use when what they really want to do is grunt, scratch themselves, and punch a kitten in the face. But I guess using a meaningless jackass word is better than any of those things.

Bluetooth Earpiece: Offical Jackass Technological Accessory

2008-08-31T10:13:00.000-07:00

Why do these things even exist?

I know, I know. Some people don't have hands, or arms. And those people need to be able to use the phone. But I can tell you - I have seen a lot of people wearing Bluetooth earpieces - and all of those people have had arms and hands.

What phone call on EARTH is so important that you have to have a plastic gadget firmly implanted into your ear AT ALL TIMES, ready to accept that call, hands free, at any moment? These are the only acceptable times to use a Bluetooth earpiece:

1. You're sculpting a patio waterfall out of quick-set cement and you are waiting for a phone call from your ex-girlfriend's lawyer with the results of the paternity test.

2. You're massaging a spice rub onto spareribs for a dinner party and you're waiting to hear back from your doctor about the results from your pregnancy test.

3. You're in the bathroom taking a pregnancy test and you're on hold with the best Chinese take out place in the city.

Honestly, I can not think of any other acceptable reasons. You're waiting for an important job offer, you say? How about keeping your cell phone in your pocket, or on the desk next to you? Oh, you say you need your hands free to type and adjust yourself while conversing? Well, how about plugging a regular earpiece into the phone, and putting that into your ear when the phone rings? Or - wait - maybe you could just use the regular old land line phone that's sitting there on your desk, and you could cradle it on your shoulder! Like they do in old movies from the 80s!

The worst thing about the Bluetooth earpiece is that once they go into an ear, they seem to never come out again. I had a boss once who wore his Bluetooth everywhere. He wore it to my housewarming party, and all my friends asked me who the cyborg was. He wore it to a wake for a co-worker that had just passed. A wake. What phone call do you need to answer while the deceased's brother is up on a stage, strumming an acoustic guitar and crying? Also, he would take phone calls while I was talking to him - without acknowledging that he was switching over to the phone. Those calls went like this:

Me: So I wanted to give you two options, but I think option A is better.
Boss: Hello.
Me: Uh, hello. I am showing you some options.
Boss: Yes.
Me: Yes to option A or option B?
Boss: No, I said the Cabernet.
Me: You're not talking to me, are you?
Boss: Yes.

Basically, if you need to dress up as a complete jackass for some sort of complete jackass costume party, all you need to do is stick a Bluetooth earpiece in your ear. This one's pink - for girls!

Thanks to Kam M. and Steve R. for the suggestion.

And After Some Internet Research

2008-08-29T10:00:00.001-07:00

I am now mere seconds away from ordering a custom JACKASS PATROL bracelet.

http://www.reminderband.com/

Livestrong Bracelets: Official Jackass Jewelry

2008-08-29T09:29:00.001-07:00

First of all, I would like to say that I have nothing against the idea that "Livestrong bracelets" are supposed to represent. I, too, support people in their fights against cancer. I, too, believe that people can and should push themselves to triumph over their diseases and go on to win 127 bicycling championships and a string of underage and waif-like girlfriends. Come on. Mary-Kate Olsen?? She could practically be your daughter, Lance.

But anyway. The point here is that the idea is sound. But I think the whole idea of wearing the bracelet is like the idea of putting the yellow "Support Our Troops" ribbon on the side of your car. When you announce to people in a highly visible way that you are against cancer, or you support our troops, you are announcing something that in fact ALL PEOPLE BELIEVE. You might as well have a bracelet or a ribbon announcing that you breathe air. ALL PEOPLE** believe that we should fight cancer AND support our troops. When you put one of those things on, a bracelet or a ribbon or whatever, you imply that you have better priorities or a higher set of moral standards than me, the person who is sans bracelet/sans ribbon.

The other issue is that the wearing of these bracelets has somehow turned into some kind of jackass accessorizing contest. One earnest dude wearing the bracelet under his long-sleeved Patagonia fleece on the way to work - well, that's one thing. But a whole fraternity of dudes wearing layers of these rubber arm cuffs, with hemp bracelets, sideways visors, and "ironically ugly" sunglasses - that's too much. That's pure jackass. Are these guys spending their free time volunteering at the cancer hospital? Are they having car washes to raise money for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society? Hell no! They are wearing these bracelets for the following reasons:

1. Lance Armstrong is the man, bro!
2. He won the Tour de France with only one ball! Like, 12 times!
3. ONE ball!
4. Balls.
5. I like my own balls.

Plus, the Livestrong bracelet has inspired a whole cottage industry of specialty bracelets for specialty causes. Special jewelry - with a purpose - that you can wear in the shower! Actually, these spin-off bracelets may be the true positive legacy of the Livestrong bracelet campaign. 'Cause I already knew about cancer, and I knew it was bad. But thanks to the rubber-clad lady on the bus next to me, I am now aware that she is, in fact, the World's #1 Mom.

**98% of people. The other 2% we should grind up and feed to the homeless.

Audi: Official Jackass Vehicle

2008-08-28T20:23:00.001-07:00

Okay, so, let's be honest. Have you ever known anyone who drives an Audi and isn't a jackass? The Audi is like the official vehicle for jackasses. It has an obscure European pedigree that no one really knows or cares about (what are they? German? Swedish? Austrian? Who gives a shit?). It has a logo that kind of looks like the Olympic symbol but isn't the Olympic symbol but, somehow, still says "International Victory". They are kind of sport-oriented but kind of safety-oriented, like a stallion that's been trained as a guide for the blind. And instead of model names, they use some kind of weird foreign code: A4, A6...aren't these European paper sizes?

The point is, these things are pretentious. They want to be all things - sporty, safe, classy, luxurious. If this car was a dude at a bar, he would smell like Colors - The Cologne of Benetton and he would be buying me something ending in "tini".

And what about those Audis that look like silver jellybeans with wheels? Those little roadster things? I've got one word for the people that own those. MIATA. That's right. When I see one of your shiny silver treats zipping past me on the right, only to cut me off and then screech to a halt behind the semi I've been following, I think, "Who's that jackass in the Miata? Oh. That's an Audi."

I challenge you to find me an Audi driver who doesn't vote republican.

Welcome to Jackass Patrol.

2008-08-28T20:09:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Hey, who put you in charge? Who said you can lead this patrol?"

And I answer: Me. I put myself in charge of patrolling jackasses. Because I am a jackass. How can you tell? Because I'm wearing a scarf with a goddamn t-shirt, that's how you can tell. What kind of a jackass wears a scarf with a t-shirt? A t-shirt and a sweater and a coat, maybe, but just a t-shirt? That's like wearing elbow-length gloves with a romper. But scarves are so in right now! I'm fashionable! Wait, no, I'm a jackass.

And that's what qualifies me to be in charge of this patrol. This blog is going to be about being "on the beat", as the cops like to say (in 1970s movies about cops). I'm patrolling this town, this city, this state, this world, this universe - on the lookout for jackasses. (And I'm not going to use the word "jackassery", not yet at least). And guess what? You're on the patrol too.

Here's how it works. Me, and you, and the dude in the cubicle next to you with the Simpsons figurines from Burger King - we're all going to be keeping our eyes open. Because every day things happen to us that remind us of the jackasses in this world, and these things make us laugh. Then we put them on this blog. Hilarity ensues. We all have something funny to read during our 10:15 yogurt break. And suddenly, life seems a little bit more worth living for.

Am I overstating the potential of this blog? Definitely. But if people didn't overstate potential, we'd never have sugar-free iced coffee at McDonalds. We'd never have presidents. People, we would never have Jesus. Yeah, I went there.

Anyway. Let the jackassery begin.

Shit. I already said it.