georoc01's blog: "Others"

The first woman I loved, he said, Her skin was satin and gold. The next woman I loved, he said. Her skin was satin and gold. The third woman I loved, he said, Was made in a different mold. She was deeper than me, and said so; She was stronger than me, and said so. She was wiser than me, and proved it; I shivered, and grew cold. The fourth woman I loved, he said, Her skin was satin and gold.

This was sent to me today.. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart /funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style. This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you. This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that. The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can confirm is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative ****es. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete jerk now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single. So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, insane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming. s a salute to nice guys.

The Oil Field Explained... A Few Good Men Style -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Those of you familiar with the oilfield might get a laugh out of this... Operations: "You want answers?" Accounting: "I think we are entitled to them!" Operations: "You want answers?!" Accounting: "I want the truth!" Operations: "You can't handle the truth!!!" "Son, we live in a world that requires revenue. And that revenue must be brought in by people with elite skills. Who's going to find it? You? You, Mr. Accountant? We have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You scoff at operations and you curse our lucrative incentives. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what we know: that while the cost of business results are excessive, it drives in revenue. And my very existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, drives REVENUE! You don't want to know the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at staff meetings ... you want me on that well. You NEED me on that well! We use words like drilling, wellbore, fracture stimulation, lease automatic custody transfer, pumping unit and flow rate. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent building something. You use them as a punch line! I have neither the time nor inclination to explain myself to people who rise and sleep under the very blanket of revenue I provide and then question the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said "thank you" and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you contract a drilling rig and drill some wells. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!" Accounting: "Did you expense the lap dances?" Operations: "I did the job I was hired to do." Accounting: "Did you expense the lap dances!?" Operations: "You're damn right I did!"

- Why do we sing "Rock a bye baby" to lull our little ones to sleep when the song is about putting your baby in a tree and letting the wind crash the cradle to the ground? ' - Why is it when your sleeping it`s called drool but when your awake its - called spit? - How come people tell you to stay a kid for as long as you can. Yet the moment you do anything childish or immature they tell you to grow up. - Ever wonder how Freddy Kruger wipes his azz? - Why do mattresses have designs on them when they're always covered with sheets? - Why do they put Braille dots on the keypad of the drive-up ATM? - How come Superman could stop bullets with his chest, but always ducked when someone threw a gun at him? - Did you ever notice when you blow in a dog's face he gets mad at you? but when you take him in a car, he sticks his head out the window! - If you're in hell, and are mad at someone, where do you tell them to go? - Why is it that when a person tells you there's over a million stars in the universe you believe them, but if someone tells you there's wet paint somewhere, you have to touch it to make sure?

A guy goes into a bar and orders a beer. He happens to look down the bar and sees a man with a head the size of a cue ball sitting there, so he walks down and says to the man, “Excuse me, sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but I noticed you have a small head. Is this a birth defect?” The man says, “No, I got this in the war. My ship was torpedoed by the Germans in WWII. I was the only survivor on the ship, so I swam to shore.” “Then one day, a mermaid swam up to me and said she would grant me three wishes. For my first wish, I wanted to return to the U.S. The mermaid granted that wish. My second wish was to have all the money I would ever need. Wish granted. My third wish was to have sex with the mermaid.” “What she’d say?” the curious stranger asked. “She said, ‘I can’t grant that wish, because mermaids can’t have sex.’ ” “So,” continued the old man with a dejected look on his face, “I said, ‘How about a little head?"

A guy walks into a bar with a mushroom under his arm. He says, "I'll have two beers - one for me and one for the fun guy." The number twelve walks into a bar and asks the barman for a pint of beer. "Sorry I can't serve you," states the barman. "Why not?!" asks the number twelve with anger showing in its voice. "You're under 18," replies the barman. A neutron walks into a bar, sits down and asks for a drink. Finishing, the neutron asks "How much?" The bartender says, "For you, no charge." A golf club walks into a local bar and asks the barman for a pint of beer. The barman refuses to serve him. "Why not," asks the golf club. "You'll be driving later," replies the bartender. A brain walks into a bar and says, "I'll have a pint of beer please." The barman looks at him and says "Sorry, I can't serve you." "Why not?" askes the brain. "You're already out of your head." A man walked into a bar after a long day at work. As he began to drink his beer, he heard a voice say seductively "You've got great hair!" The man looked around but couldn't see where the voice was coming from, so he went back to his beer. A minute later, he heard the same soft voice say "You're a handsome man!" The man looked around, but still couldn't see where the voice was coming from. When he went back to his beer, the voice said again "You're quite the stud, aren't you?" "Don't mind them," said the bartender. "They're the complimentary nuts." Three vampires walk into a bar and sit down at a table. The waitress comes over and asks the first vampire what he would like. The first vampire responds, "I vould like some blood." The waitress turns to the second vampire and asks what he would like. The vampire responds, "I vould like some blood." The waitress turns to the third vampire and asks what he would like. The vampire responds, "I vould like some plasma." The waitress looks up and says, "Let me see if I have this order correct...That's two Bloods and a Blood Lite?" Rimshots appreciated...I'll be here all week folks...try the veal!

Dont know if you guys have ever read this, but it makes me giggle each time. I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see how an Italian family spends the holidays. I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like partridges and pear trees.....I was wrong! I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the invitation. "I know these family things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve." "Sounds fine to me," Karen said. I told my mother I'd be bringing Karen with me. "She's a very nice girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you." "Sounds fine to me," my mother said. And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two sounds-fine-to-me. What more could I want? I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season -- an Italian woman's reason for living. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian women live for. I should also point out, I suppose, that when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being! I brought her anyway. 7 p.m. -- we arrive. Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour waiting for the other guests to show up. During that half hour, my mother grills Karen like cheeseburger on the barbecue determines that Karen does not clean, cook, or bake. My father is equally observant. He pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being!" 7:30 p.m. - Others arrive. Zio Giovanni walks in with my Zia Maria, assorted kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, anchovies and cheese....no meat of course. When I offer to make Karen's plate she says, "No Thank you." She points to the anchovies with a look of disgust.... "You don't like anchovies?" I ask. "I don't like fish, Karen announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of seafood are baking, broiling and simmering in the next room. My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things are getting uncomfortable. Zia Maria asks Karen what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Karen says, "Knockwurst." My father, who is still staring in a daze, at Karen's chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmu r, "Knockers?" My mother kicks him so hard he gets a blood clot. None of this is turning out the way I'd hoped. 8:00 p.m. - Second course. The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the table. Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks me to join her in the kitchen. I take my "Merry Christmas" napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen. "I don't want to start any trouble," my mother sa ys calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face." "Come on," I tell her. "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants." My mother considers the situation, then nods. As I turn to walk back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with this tramp?" "She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks." "Well, it's your life," she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you." 8:30 p.m. - More fish. My stomach is knotted like one of those macrame plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold. All the women get up to clear away the spaghetti dishes, except for Karen, who, instead, lights a cigarette. "Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest. Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks. "Dear, you don't have to do that," my mother tells her, smiling painfully. "Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks on the sink. As she reenters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. >From the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops." More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy, like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you always see in the sixth row of a funeral home. Zia Maria does the same. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Zio Giovanni doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth. 10:00 pm. - Coffee, dessert. Espresso all around . A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it. "This is fun," Karen says. Time passes and believe it or not, ev eryone is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer -- even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs and says, "Get this bitch out of my house." Sounds fine to me. THE END

10. JRLA -- Janet Reno Look-Alike 9. CWP -- Cigar-Wielding President 8. MSG S/G W/B M/F KOPWPFYB -- Moon walking Single-Gloved Straight/Gay White/Black Male/Female King Of Pop With Predilection For Young Boys 7. RHMI -- Really Hip Macarena Instructor 6. HAWGSOH -- Heroin Addict with Great Sense of Humor 5. STLSM -- Show Tune-Loving Straight Male 4. SWFWHBTP -- Single White Female Who Has Blown the President 3. EHWC -- Extremely Hairy White Chick 2. WARSADAP -- Works At Radio Shack and Drives A Pinto and the Number One 1. WSUBFC -- Will Screw Ugly Bastards for Cash

These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place. ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning? WITNESS: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?" ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you? WITNESS: My name is Susan! ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact? WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks. ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active? WITNESS: No, I just lie there. ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory? WITNESS: I forget. ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot? ___________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo? WITNESS: We both do. ATTORNEY: Voodoo? WITNESS: We do. ATTORNEY: You do? WITNESS: Yes, voodoo. ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning? WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam? ____________________________________ ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he? WITNESS: Uh, he's twenty. ___________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken? WITNESS: Are you poopoo'in me? _________________________________________ ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time? WITNESS: Uh.... I was gett'in laid! ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: She had three children, right? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: How many were boys? WITNESS: None. ATTORNEY: Were there any girls? WITNESS: Are you poopoo'in me? Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney? ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated? WITNESS: By death. ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated? WITNESS: Now whose death do you suppose terminated it? ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual? WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard. ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female? WITNESS: Guess! _____________________________________ ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney? WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work. ______________________________________ ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people? WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people. Would you like to rephrase that? _________________________________________ ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to? WITNESS: Oral. _________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body? WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m. ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time? WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy on him! ____________________________________________ ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample? WITNESS: Huh....are you qualified to ask that question? ______________________________________ And the best for last: ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor? WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar. ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless? WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 5:00 and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is always refreshing. 2. If it's really a "rush job," run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it's going. That greatly aids my efficiency. 3. Always leave without telling anyone where you're going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are. 4. If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books or supplies, don't open the door for me. I might need to learn how to function as a paraplegic in future and opening doors is good training. 5. If you give me more than one job to do, don't tell me which is the priority. Let me guess. 6. Do your best to keep me late. I like the office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. 7. If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. Leaks like that could get me a promotion. 8. If you don't like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. 9. If you have special instructions for a job, don't write them down. If fact, save them until the job is almost done. 10. Never introduce me to the people you're with. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them. 11. Be nice to me only when the job I'm doing for you could really change your life. 12. Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it's nice to know someone is less fortunate