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PastPoop7/30/2003-Heads Up ShitBreaks!Okay,ProxyBastard is finished. It should have been done sooner, but with the Comic-Con and all, things got pushed back. One task remains aside from writting the installer, I need an assload of links to put in the default file for ProxyBastard to redirect to. Just submit your suggestions in the comments section in this article. And now, on with the show... So here I am, writting another article, with no idea where I'm going to go with it. I had a few analogies that I wanted to use today, so lets see if I can work them in. I'll leave a marker(*) after the ones I wanted to use. Once again I was tasked today with the Herculean effort of putting barcodes on boxes. Yay. I get a more intelectual challenge out of listening to a B-52s song(*). It consists of 'Pick box up', 'Paste lable on', and if your are an advanced box labeler 'Stack box to the side'. So during this time my brain goes nuts and runs all over the place. Today it started in 'Music Trivia' land; It took the I-5 to a little town called 'Esoteric-ville' where it stopped and had an order of 'If we had Dinosaurs in this day and age, and they had guns, could we defeate them?'. After that it took the I-90 west toward 'That Chick who works at the bar down the street is really hot, and I should go ask her out-burg', but it had to stop and get gas in 'I need to get back to practicing my bass guitar' which is right outside of 'I would like to do a cover of Nine Inch Nails song Closer'. All in all my brain put alot of miles on the car, and picked up a nail outside of 'What if I just set fire to all the boxes instead of putting on barcodes?'. I tried to make a game out of it, seeing how many I can do in a minute, but that was about as effective as a BBQ made out of toilet paper(*). So eventually it turned into me looking for the slightest exuse to get away from it. That in turn changed into me just walking away and hiding somewhere in the wherehouse, where I wrote hidden messages on the documents inside the boxes. Some time later someone will look at their medical records and see the sentence 'I like to eat the cheese, want to see my shiny butt' written across their X-ray. I like to bring happyness to the world. Later I started to amuse myself with the assorted wherehouse tools that were strewn about the place. Pallet-Jacks make the best scooters in the world, if you can stand the noise. Just make sure you don't clip the corner of an aisle or your ass will go flying. They handle really well too, as long as you use commom sence and lean with the corners. Another common item in a wherehouse is a huge roll of saran-wrap. I'm talking huge! I could wrap the entire wherehouse in at lease two layers of that crap. The saran-wrap is quite usefull for setting traps, or just being extra specail obnoxious. You could just open a box, wrap the contents in about 7 or 8 layers of that stuff, put it back, and no one will be the wiser. If it's the real thin 'hard to see a single layer' wrap, spread it across an aisle about head height, and wait for the cursing. Apparently the Vice President of the company I work for is Bi-Sexual. The last item, is the fork-lift. The fork-lift is the golden chalice of the prankster. One could take a whole pallet of boxes and, I dunno... put it on top of the boss's car? So what have we learned today? We learned that I should go down to that bar and ask that hot chick out. -BarnyardMessiah |
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