Jake: Meh. She does not stun me. Who cares if she can play some golf?
Me: I guess it is nice to know that she is not just a useless hot bitch. She can hit the shit out of a golf ball, too.
Jake: Give me Heidi Klum playing with her tits any day.
Me: Well, duh. Her tits are fantastic.
Jake: “Great knockers!”
Me: The Seal thing baffles me. I bet she is a size queen. It is the only explanation.
Jake: Never thought of that.
Me: Him and Edward James Olmos could be brothers with all that shit on their faces.
Jake: Ha! Seal had lupus. Cut the guy a break. He is just trying to get by.
Me: I do not call banging Heidi Klum “Getting By.” I call that “Out Punting Your Coverage.” “Getting By” is laying wood to someone like Britney Spears.
Jake: That is not “Getting By” that is “Giving Up.”
DJ: This zombie link is amazing. I need to start taking science classes so I can amass a fortune, run a cemetery and do zombie experiments. Vast sums of money are being poured into nano-technology. Sure, at some level scientists know nano-bots will destroy mankind. They just cannot resist seeing how it happens.
Me: I am all for it. I would not mind being a zombie at all. You get to eat brains, have lots of friends and cannot die easily.
DJ: Technically you have to die once – horribly – but yeah, after that, you are gold. I am not so sure you would recognize things like ‘friends’ but then you probably would not care either. Of course you would not recognize things like ‘house payments’ and ‘Yankees’ and the other horrors that we confront daily.
DJ: Zombie Jeter would be pretty cool.
DJ: Eating the brain of A-Rod and then introducing zombie A-Rod to zombie anal. Better, introducing A-Rod to anal and then to the zombie world and then to zombie anal. Mostly because I want A-Rod’s last thought to be, “Zombie Jeter just put his cock in my ass, there is nothing I can do about it and it hurts like hell.”
Broz: Ha! And wow. Zombie sex would be amazing. Here is why: you can do things in the zombie world that are taboo in the non-zombie world. Like rip a bitches arm off and fuck the shoulder socket. And than beat her with the arm. And than eat the arm.
DJ: Wow. I am at Caribou Coffee now and dying laughing. People are starting to look.
Broz: You’re welcome.
Jake: Amber marries Amber Doll.
Me: That doll looks a million times better than she does.
Me: I would probably take a run at that doll but be creeped out the entire time while doing so. Then again, that describes sex with my ex-girlfriend so I might be able to handle it.
Jake: I have a feeling I would get in the middle of it and be like, “This is weird.” It would be like jerking off in the shower and realizing halfway through that it is not going anywhere. Sure you keep at it for a while, but eventually your arm just wears out.
Me: No way. Once I am in that doll, I am committed. It is a lot like sex with the dead or bestiality; once you crossed the the penetration threshold, all bets are off. You do not just pull out and acknowledge weirdness in the middle of it. You have to finish and than punch the doll in the throat for judging you afterwards.
Nameless Coworker: You had three calls come in for you in the past ten minutes.
Me: Oh really?
Nameless Coworker: Yeah. Where were you?
Me: Even Art Directors have to take shits.
Nameless Coworker: Nice.
Me: The wife and I are moving out of the hood, Joey.
Gay Joe: No way. Are you moving over to Castlegate to run your meth dealing ring from within?
Me: No. We got a house. We put an offer in last Wednesday, got countered on Thursday and we accepted. We now have three mortgages and can officially be called “slumlords.” We may own the whole goddamn town home complex if you are not careful.
Gay Joe: Want to buy my place?
Me: Maybe. Think we can wash the gay off the walls?
Gay Joe: No. That is the selling point, jackass.
Me: “For rent: 2 bedroom suburban town house. Doubles as homosexual circus tent and semen repository.”
Gay Joe: “Home already part of metro area orgy circuit. Ideal for those already suffering from syphilitic dementia.”
Gay Joe: Replace “suffering from” with “enjoying.”
Me: Depending on who we are targeting.
Gay Joe: “Bush-bottoms welcome at double rent.”
Me: “Bear lovers encouraged.”
Gay Joe: I would actually prohibit bear lovers and pets. Too much hair. Anyway, congrats on the new house. Looks nice.
Me: Thanks, killer.
Nameless Ex Coworker: Hey, do you know the login and password to that thing on the corporate website you designed? I need to do something with that.
Me: Yes. It will cost $80 an hour for that information. That is my going design rate for for-profit corporations. Or we can work out a flat fee.
Nameless Ex Coworker: Seriously? Even for me?
Me: For you and for anyone who represents your company.
Nameless Ex Coworker: Wow.
Me: It’s a pleasure doing business with you.
Me: Then there are these fucking guys.
Jake: I like how you lead into that.
Jake: Dude thought the obituary picture was cute? Never mind that she died in a motorcycle crash.
Me: Yeah. She’s dead, fellas. How about you try to tap the living, first?
Jake: Well, I would rather they try this than rape Tommy’s little sister.
Me: I would rather them not rape anybody, dead or alive. I do like how they bought condoms. That was thoughtful.
Jake: Yes. You don’t want to catch maggots.
Me: Or get the corpse pregnant. What were the other dudes going to do while their boy got his Ted Bundy on?
Jake: See if he liked it and then take a poke if it was any good?
Me: Yeesh. There are sloppy seconds and than there are sloppy seconds with a dead body. That is the lowest rung on the sexual deviance ladder. While we’re on the topic, I’m thinking they should have bought some lube with those condoms, too.
Me: You know, a guy I play hockey with kind of looks like one of those dudes. His name is Dave. He probably has sex with the dead, too.
Me: Britney’s birthing statue from the back end.
Kaye: Why? Why would anyone do that? That is so disgusting.
Me: I think they should have made it interactive, like the fetus shooting out of the womb or something.
Me: The fetus dives back into the birth canal to get its Cheetoes and cigarettes. Then it shoots back out to become a terrible back up dancer that thinks it can rap. Finally, it goes back in to find its fleeting youth and shoes so it does not get hepatitis from walking barefoot across a public bathroom floor.
Holzmann: Should we call it a navigation bar or a menu bar?
Me: In the next version release of the product it wont be there, so you can call it whatever you want.
Holzmann: Perfect. I will just call it the “Lick On Matt’s Cock Bar” then.
Me: I trust you are referring to my cock because nobody wants to lick yours. Except maybe your Mom.
Holzmann: That was cold.
Me: That is how I roll.
Me: I bought some new skis last night.
Monica: Oh, nice.
Me: Notice the urban graphics that will illustrate how much of a non-conformist I am while skiing. Because that is important.
Monica: Keeping it street on the slopes?
Me: Right. Represent.
Monica: Represent Arvada?
Me: “I am riding for the water tower today, bitches.”
Monica: “This is for all the homeys that are working at the gas stations, getting their weed delivered to them that cannot enjoy the mountain today.”
Me: “This bump run is for my boys that drink too much beer, still live at home with their parents and work at Randy’s Pizza; sorry you did not make it, playas.”