Friday Five

According to my cranky boss, "I actually prefer single-ply toilet paper" is not an appropriate interesting fact at an office retreat. I guess it's not interesting enough.

When I first started my job out of college, all that I did was copy and paste. Now that I've been working for nearly three years, I've proven myself by copying and pasting much faster than I did before.

My Nana always told me that the greatest risk in life is not taking a risk. That's why I put my portion of the inheritance on black. Turns out that a) Nana was full of it and b) you can get kicked out of a casino for crying so hard that you crap your pants.

When I'm bored at work, I like to post hotel reviews on travel websites. The content varies, but the first sentence is always the same: "This hotel is a vacationer's paradise......if you love rats."

I’m planning to quit my job soon so that it’s not too late to put “I’m taking my talents to South Beach” in my resignation letter.

Friday Five

Picture frames are the perfect gift, especially if the generic photograph inside really expresses your friendship.

Logic demands that I refuse to make my bed every morning, since I’m just going to mess it up that evening. I should probably accept the fact that I’m going to have Christmas lights on my bushes in July.

Why simmer for one hour when you can boil for ten minutes?

In order to begin volunteering, I interviewed in my apartment with the recruiter. I had to face the difficult decision of coming clean about living with my girlfriend (at the risk of judgment from a staunch moralist) or holding my tongue (at the risk of explaining away a “Gilmore Girls” box set).

If you’re making number cards to draw out of a hat, be sure to differentiate between the six and the nine by writing “rhymes with ‘dicks’” on one of them.

Friday Five

Since my selfless deed is donating blood, I have to root against karma.

Spoiler alert: If an elderly character begins act one of any play with a limp, they will be dead about midway through act two.

If a girl ever says "I need to tell you a story to confirm that I'm not crazy," don't listen. She's crazy.

If something bad happens to a friend of yours, ease the pain by telling them that it's good luck in some Asian cultures. Bird crap, stab wounds, pink slips -- all signs of good things to come.

If a girl at a bar asks me what I do for a living, I tell her that I'm a bomb defuser. That way, she's won over by my heroism, and if I never call back she can assume the inevitable.

Friday Five

Although I really enjoyed growing up with two sisters and no brothers, one of the few unshakable side effects is my inability to hold back tears during Olympics human interest pieces. Thanks a lot, girls. For the next month, I have to pretend to use the bathroom after every other commercial break to avoid sobbing into my appletini.

After you turn twelve, “knock, knock” “who’s there” jokes tend to become “knock, knock” “you’re fucking kidding, right?” jokes.

Is it weird to hate tragedies, but love candlelight vigils? I hope not.

Success is achieved by filling a niche market that is otherwise untapped. That’s why I’m a self deprecating rapper. My first album, “No Money, Zero Sex Life, ’82 Volvo” hits record stores next month. Only buy it if you feel like it.

As a child, my favorite color was yellow, which also happens to be the color of participation ribbons.

Friday Five

I'm a pretty tidy person, but the desk in my cubicle is a huge mess; it's a bitch to clean up scratch-off ticket shavings.

I figure that if I smoke pot every day from here out there are only two possible outcomes. Either I will be unlucky and become a penniless deadbeat, or I’ll be lucky and become Demetri Martin.

Where are all the gentleman bugs?

If you use the term “market penetration” in a PowerPoint presentation, do me a favor and save it for the last slide. My capacity to suppress giggles has increased only nominally with age.

I’ve spent all week trying to like Radiohead. I’ve listened to every album, pored over articles that extol their novel sound, and grown accustomed to the reply “of course I like Radiohead;” but I can’t do it.
You don’t suck, Radiohead. I suck.

Friday Five

I wonder if Aladdin ever questions whether it was worth it. Jasmine is cute and everything, but she's a big complainer, her eyes are huge for her face, and she's probably not even hot naked (it's clear that only one outfit flatters her body type). I say use the Genie as a magical wingman and get crazy Agrabah tail.

I would be far better at recycling if tossing glass bottles down the trash chute wasn’t so damn satisfying.

As of recently, I have attempted to approach life as if I were training to be a motivational speaker. Since I’m new to the game, I’m still in the “do drugs, drink too much, and tear apart my family” stage. Relax siblings and parents, you’re slated to play the leading role in my best selling memoir.

I like to assign my own words to common acronyms. Little does my manager know that I will provide her with the work that she requested After Soliciting Asian Prostitutes.

I'm going to start a company that makes robin's egg blue boxes of all shapes and sizes. Valentine's Day just got a lot less expensive, Gentlemen. Be sure, however, to prepare yourself with rebuttals such as "Of course Tiffany makes oven mitts, you ungrateful bitch."

Friday Five

You’re not a product of my generation if you and your buddies have never considered starting a funny t-shirt company.

If you’re trying to get laid by bragging about your status as a blogger, I suggest using the term “pro bono freelance writer.” By the time she cuts through the bullshit, you’ll be locked in love’s sweet embrace.

Since I frequently lose my house keys, I’ve attached a tag to every set with my home address. That way, if someone finds them, they can simply slip them through my mail slot.

Sometimes, I embellish personal details in order to make my pro bono freelance writing submissions more humorous. For example, tiny apartments in the ghetto do not have mail slots.

It’s hard to dampen the negative emotions that come with being of short stature. Not even “at least I’m the most comfortable on long car trips” seems to help; it’s probably because I’m always forced to sit bitch.

Friday Five

Given the power of assumption, “Drug Free Zone” signs only make sense in Amsterdam.

I’m thinking about writing a novel. The protagonist is young guy who recently graduated from college. He hates his job, but can’t figure out what he wants to do with his life. What he lacks in gumption he makes up for in lethargy, and is bound by delusion to near terminal inertia.
I’m thinking of writing an autobiography.

One of my iGoogle widgets is a window that provides two “How to of the Day” articles. Although I chose to include this option for the sake of edifying tips and hobby suggestions, the articles, selected at random, have provided boundless entertainment. The two pieces this Monday, for example, were:
“How to Deal with a Difficult Mother in Law”
“How to Make Jello Shots”

I want a Rosetta Stone CD that teaches me how to convincingly make fun of people with foreign accents.

When I first heard the term “oral sex,” I thought that it meant talking dirty over the telephone. If you’d prefer to cling to your initial impression of my adorable innocence, don’t ask me what I thought that “phone sex” meant.

Friday Five

I wish that everyone were required to wear nametags, because I’m really bad with names and really good at staring at boobs.

Thank God that Mint.com doesn’t have a laugh track.

Looking for a new job on your work computer isn’t a big deal as long as you are under qualified for everything and no good at interviewing.

Being terribly hung over AND having morning sickness must be a double whammy.

The hardest part about being an innovative writer of fiction is probably committing suicide; that or dealing with pesky editors.

Friday Five

On Wednesday, I had lunch at Ruby Tuesday. Due, I’m quite certain, to an error on their end, both of my credit cards were declined. Although it was mildly embarrassing to borrow money from my friend, it was worth the undeserved shame to see what it feels like to hit rock bottom.

A zipup hoodie seems like a contradiction to me. If you’re so concerned about messing up your hair, why do you have a hood at all?

When choosing an art print to frame and display, the rules are simple: Select a lesser known piece by a well known artist. That way, you appear to have an acute sense for the aesthetic without following the crowd. Who the hell likes lily pads anyway?

Every time I send a fax at the office, my stomach growls. While this phenomenon baffled me for several months, I realized in a moment of clarity that pushing buttons that beep causes my “hot pocket in three minutes” synapses to fire. This also explains why I have violent diarrhea two hours after sending a fax.

When I asked my buddy why he moved to California, he responded “You don’t have to shovel sunshine.” Good point. You do, however, have to put up with vacuous assholes and their obnoxious quips.

Friday Five

I appreciate the move toward a cashless society. Credit card transactions are rapid, internet payments are a breeze, and my excuse to bums sounds plausible.

I use makemebabies.com as undeniable proof that my girlfriend and I should not start a family. That and she's crazy.

When I get bored at work, I listen to conference calls in one ear and the Nappy Roots' "Awnaw" on loop in the other. It gets particularly interesting when I'm asked to participate.

Part of me wants to go at least $10,000 into credit card debt just to see if those commercials are legit.

I’m going to name my firstborn AAAA. I think that it will be good for his or her self esteem to be the first name in everyone’s cell phone.

Friday Five

Every Christmas, my Grandmother’s gifts are all from infomercials. While most items bought in installments are absurd (read: the Perfect Pushup, Christmas 2006), some hidden treasures are displayed via her digital converter. About this time of year, I start dropping hints to ensure that I receive a gift ripe for utilization:
“I love smoothies, but it’s too hard to drink them on the go.”
“I caught a terrible cold because I had to decide between reading my book and staying covered by my fleece blanket.”
Watching the epiphany form across her wrinkled brow is enough to forgive her for spelling my name incorrectly on the Peanuts Christmas card.

If I owned coasters, I could cancel my magazine subscriptions.

The primary reason that I hate to cook is that regardless of how much energy I expend, nothing that I’ve ever made has tasted better than a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

Becoming an Edible Arrangement recipient is pretty much rock bottom. It means that you’re sick or deserve an apology, and that your benefactor knows so little about you that he thinks “I know what will help, honeydew!”

After a bad day, I snap out of my foul mood by thinking “at least I don’t work at Yankee Candle.”

Friday Five

If you think that “My Super Sweet 16” is entertaining to watch alone, try watching it with a grandparent. Nobody appreciates a lavish celebration for a bratty teenager like a child of the Great Depression. Turns out Nana has a pretty impressive vocabulary.

Read the following sentence aloud; savor the moment because it will be the last of its kind:
“You’re cuter than you look on your Facebook profile picture.”

For about a year, I’ve had spider plant in a glass of water on my desk at work. Its once emerald leaves are now pallid and wilted. Aside from its lethargic consumption of water, there are few signs of life. It longs for fresh air and sunshine to replace its drab and depressing surroundings. I fucking hate transparent metaphors.

When diagnosing a tumultuous relationship, one of Dr. Phil’s standard questions is “Would you rather be right or happy?” I’m pretty sure that you can be both if you’re self confident and really good at arguing your point.

This Monday, Conde Nast put an end to their publication of "Gourmet," "Cookie," "Elegant Bride," and "Modern Bride," causing an outbreak of hysteria among overweight, lonely cat-ladies.

Friday Five

There is no such thing as a bad question, unless your question is “why are you bringing your purse to the bathroom?”

I think that Chick-fil-A’s religious fervor totally backfired. I’m not one for blasphemy, but when I pull up to the drive-through on a Sunday and am denied waffle fries, the third commandment doesn’t stand a Goddamn chance.

Every year, I look forward to the coming of autumn. The air is crisp, the leaves turn vibrant colors, and I can finally spend countless hours concocting a controversial Halloween costume.

In today’s lexicon, “how’s it going” is an idle comment that should solicit a response of two words or fewer. My girlfriend is unfamiliar with today’s lexicon.

Given the emotional trauma that a severe father inflicted on me, I’ve promised myself that I won’t tell my children “I’m not mad; I’m disappointed.” I’ll probably send them to boarding school abroad instead.

Friday Five

When my girlfriend is feeling chipper, I get more affection. When she’s depressed, my pharmaceutical portfolio gets bullish. The conflict of interest is killing me.

The walls of my cubicle look like a Magic Eye. Since I’ve never been good at these puzzles, I can’t tell what the message says. It’s either “Big dreams, hard work, and a little bit of luck will pay major dividends” or “Go hang yourself.”

My grandmother’s mantra is “Never wish ill on anyone.” Comments like that remind me that she’s from a pre-Rachel Ray generation.

In an effort to cut costs during the economic downturn, I was planning to bring my lunch to work instead of eating out. My idea was shot to hell, however, when I saw how much a hip flask costs.

Even though my male intuition demands that facebook quizzes are absurd, I've given in to the temptation on occasion. After three attempts, however, I decided to call it quits, since having "You are most like Miranda" posted on my wall was way too embarrassing. I'm definitely more like Charlotte.

Friday Five

This morning, I walked past a woman who was holding a toddler in her left arm, while having an intense conversation into the cell phone in her right hand. Instinctively, I threw a rock at her to see which she would drop.

When I asked my boss about my job security in these tumultuous times, he said that I was the "Keystone of my Department." This metaphor meant one of two things:
1) If he removed me, the organization would topple.
2) He wasn't very fond of me at first, but since I'm all that he can afford, he has grown strangely nostalgic and wants as much of me as he can get.
Either way, I guess that I don't have to interview any time soon.

If you're planning on saying something mean to someone, avoid acting rashly by writing it on a sheet of paper. Fold the paper up and put it in a desk drawer to revisit the following day. Given time and a night's rest, you can undoubtedly think of harsher, more backhanded insults than came to you initially.

My girlfriend watches “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” for the salacious drama. I watch it for baby name ideas. Little NeNe is going to be a bundle of joy.

I wish that birthday gifts were as easy now as they were back in grade school. I never had to think: “Okay….Dad likes golf….and he knows how to read.…so I’ll get him a book….about golf.” Instead, I would just throw some glitter glue on a strip of pink construction paper and call it a bookmark. At least giving him a book about golf doesn’t make him demand that I throw the baseball around with him instead of helping Mom bake brownies.

Friday Five

I don’t have any good business ideas, but I have some great business names. Who wouldn’t want to purchase wine from midgets at “Short Cellar,” or dominatrix outfits for their shiatsu at “Hoochie Poochie?” I’m going to be a freaking millionaire.

If you cry during a Pixar movie, don't try to save face by saying that you just got "misty eyed." That turn of phrase is far worse than weeping over the plight of a computer animated clownfish. Instead, explain that you can relate to little Nemo; you share in his fear while struggling to survive in the vast and dangerous Pacific, and brim with elation when he reunites with his father.

My grandfather always used to say that I was the smart one, my older sister was the nice one, and my little sister was the funny one - and we thought that was great. We’re only just now realizing that he thought we were nerdy, boring, and ass ugly.

If it weren’t for that sign, I would have never tampered with the smoke detector.

Moving in together isn't necessarily a precursor to marriage nowadays. Granting you the password to my laptop and thereby access to twelve years of video diary entries, however, guarantees you a diamond ring – either that, or I’m planning on killing you soon.

Friday Five

While totally legitimate, the rebuttal “Hemingway was a drunk, and he won the Pulitzer” only makes my mom cry harder.

Every time I think about going into politics, I remember that a handful of people could tell (and show) the media that I regularly use my cell phone to send them pictures of my feces. Tax evasion can be chalked up as an oversight, but scatological photography? Harder to talk your way out of.

Duff.

My barbress is from Eastern Europe. She’s smoking hot and has a killer accent, but her English isn’t top notch. In her language, “I’d just like a trim, thank you” translates into “Oh heck, go ahead and surprise me.”

When I fart audibly at the office, I figure that my coworkers assume it's my chair creaking. I suppose they also have to assume that creaking chairs make me giggle.


Author’s Note:
The resemblance between Friday Five and Random Thoughts is admittedly uncanny; there are five quips which intend to amuse, with potentially similar subject matter, and an occasional italicized footnote. While comparison between the two is unavoidable, the Author hopes that posts warrant critique, mild or scathing, independent of the former beloved column. The inferiority complex need not be fueled. The former appeared daily. Each gem was garnished with an amusing picture. Random Thoughts was never removed after submission only to be posted a week later. I hope only to replace a full body massage with a carved wooden hand on a stick.

Please enjoy,
Trip