Amy phones an Indian man

Tonight Amy's CD-rom drive decided to quit working and sit on the couch all day collecting welfare. Upon realizing she had to call tech support, she had this to say to me online:
Amy: it might be too late to call
Henry: to call me or to call an indian man?
Amy: (pause, as she calls tech support) fuuuuuck he's Indian
Amy: fuck fuck fuck!

And Amy's the more politically correct of the two of us. Just goes to show you that when cutting through a multi-layered onion of a computer problem, nobody wants to have to deal with the language barrier, too.

No offense, Indian people. You guys are great. ALL OF YOU.

(sleep.)

I mean it.

Deleted Scene Thursday: Interracial Porn

It's Deleted Scene Thursday! Today I'll post an away message I have yet to put in the blog because I feel guilty about how inappropriate and/or nasty it is. Here's today's:

'There's no way I could consider myself a racist. Not with all the interracial porn on my computer.

That right there is racial harmony at its finest. It's genital diplomacy uniting different cultures to speak the universal language of 'Oh oh oh!'

By collecting interracial pornography, I'm merely preserving these groundbreaking contributions to equality, love, and touching yourself.'

I never posted this one to the blog because I wasn't sure if people would get that I wasn't 100% serious. In fact, I may have been using irony.

Also, my girlfriend pointed out that talking about how much porn I have may not look good. Ah well.

(work.)

I kind of like the idea of Deleted Scene Thursday. The obvious downside of this is that now I have to write stuff, but not like it until Thursday, when I make fun of it. Damn.

A random conversation at Wendy's

The other day I was at Wendy's ordering breakfast when a large utility worker with small, beady eyes asked me what I was studying.
'Just graduated. Psychology.'
'You should have gone into sign language. This lady I know, she teaches that and makes 100 grand a year, easy. Easy.'
'Wow.'
'Yeah, she teaches driver's ed to foreign people.'
'Oh.'
'Yeah, the other day she had to fail one of those ladies who wears those things on their heads. She couldn't see to the side, so she failed.'
'Hmmm.'
'You shouldn't wear that stuff on your head anyway. Why do you even have pretty hair if you're just going to cover it up?'
'Ah.'

During our conversation (monologue?) I was able to both order and receive my food, while he just stood there and said whatever came to mind. He wasn't even eating at Wendy's that morning.

(Lunch.)

It's possible that every morning he approaches a student and says 'Hey, what are you studying? Because sign language will make you rich and I don't know about other cultures. K bye.'

An inappropriate interracial dating club

Facebook recently told me that a friend of mine got a girlfriend. I was very glad to hear that he'd finally found a woman worthy of his wit, charm, and genitals.

And when I noticed that she was African American, I felt the need to share in his joy by messaging him with, 'Congrats, buddy! My first girlfriend was half black! We should start a club!'

But no, I won't say that, because I can't think of a good name for the 'We have formerly or are currently dating women that are of at least 50% African American heritage' club.

Plus, that's kinda racist.

(Food in the basement!)

Spoiled bitches, the C word

You ever watch something on TV out of pure hatred?

I stumbled upon My Super Sweet 16 on MTV last night. The show's called that because rich girls celebrate their 16th birthdays in a super sweet kind of way. However, they could convey a more accurate sense of what the show's about by calling it Spoiled Cunts Obsess Over Petty Shit (or SCOOPS, because I just accidentally made an acronym.)

One girl asked her dad to get Eminem for her party, then thought her dad actually got Eminem (she asked her dad if her guest was from Detroit and her dad said he wasn't telling.) Then when some random guy performed a song he wrote for her, she started crying.

Then her dad got her a car that cost more than my college tuition. At the end, she summed up the evening by saying tearfully, 'I got a car, and I am, like, a totally new person.'

Apparently New Car + Cunt = New Person and not just Mobile Cunt.

(Saucers.)

I know a lot of women don't like the word "cunt," but if you were to watch this girl use her catchphrase, "that's juicy," not only would you start throwing around the word "cunt" like it's a frisbee at a Sunday picnic, but you'd start to hate white people.

Now, I'm as white as the night is not, and I saw this girl go "Oh my God I love that expensive French dress! Too bad I can't get it. I thought Paris was known for fashion," and I was ready to join the Black Panthers.

You see this overly elaborate birthday party and you think, "GODDAMN IT WHITE PEOPLE JUST GET A CAKE." Or at least I did, but I'm notoriously pro-cake.

Swastika dinosaur pen crime deterrent

Today in the computer lab I found a green pen with a plush dinosaur at the end of it.

This is great, I thought. When people ask for pens, they get the green dinosaur pen. They won't leave with it, because it's big and goofy. That way, we keep our pens and needy users will look like the assholes they are.

So when my coworker Jenny came in for her shift, I showed her the pen. 'Oh, cute!' she said.
'Yeah, who would want to leave with this? This could be our new loaner pen,' I said.
'I'd leave with it. I think it's great.'
Well, this presented a problem, so we thought of ways to prevent dinosaur pen theft. Then it came to me:
'Let's draw a swastika on it.'
'What?!'
'Yeah, if the dinosaur has a swastika on it, users won't steal it because people will think they're in the nazi party.'
Jenny didn't like the idea, but that's ok. I'm going to get rich selling Dino-swastika pens.
(Sangria, tacos, etc.)

I'm glad I found a way to turn swastikas into a good thing. Sure, there was the Holocaust, and dude, that totally sucked, but now when you see a swastika, you can think to yourself, "I better not steal!"

Also, if a card-carrying nazi borrows a dinosaur pen, we are fucked. The swastika dinosaur pen is just screaming, "If you hate minorities but LOVE dinosaurs, steal me!" I know for a fact that I'm going to have to buy a dinosaur pen and draw another swastika on it if we lend one to an anti-Semitic paleontologist .

Racial unity and cracker snatches

Two friends decided to visit me at 3am in the computer lab while I was working. Oh, and they were drunk.

So I tried to maintain balance between Professionalism and Not Telling Your Friends to Fuck Off, then we went to Bell's for pizza. However, the highlight of the evening was this:

My buddy Aaron Brown, who, coincidentally, is brown, wanted to see if some white girls would move if he walked down the sidewalk on their side, swinging his arms like a jackass.

He did so, they moved, and he called them racist. 'No, Aaron, it's not racist because you were in their way. It would be racist if you swung your elbows around and yelled 'gonna hit me some cracker snatch.'

So he laughed. Then he actually walked down the sidewalk singing, 'gonna hit me some cracker snatch.'

That's racial unity, right there: two people of different backgrounds walking down the street, joking about hitting one race in the vagina (with their elbows, somehow).

(Bed at 5am.)

Well that scared away any female readers I may have had. Or black readers. Or readers.

Though in cracker snatch's defense, cracker snatch sounds like a tasty after school treat.

You been to Mexico or somethin'?

Today at brunch an older busboy (a busman?) pointed at Yasmin's fuzzy boots and long coat and said, 'Wow, you been to Mexico or somethin'?'

Now, he had that Southern accent which seems to permeate every backwoods town in America (explain that, linguistics) so I imagine this man thought that every nonwhite person who came into the restaurant was from Mexico, which is apparently the opposite of America.

I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Persians look just like Mexicans and sombreros are now part of everyone's winter attire. I'm not God. Or Mexican.

I can imagine that guy at home watching BET or the Asian cinema channel, scratching his head, and thinking, 'Those gal-durn Mexicans.' I guess this saves him time.

Speaking of Mexicans, time to eat at the Wendy's in the Union.

(El Sandwicho Pollo, por favor.)