Criminal Intent

So, back from the Dirty Myrtle and Charleston.  More on that fun to come.

But first, I have to enlighten you all to something amazing.  One of the best business ideas I've seen in a long time.

Let me break it down for you:

Sunday night. Not much going on in the way of night-life in Charleston.  We decide the best idea is to head to the Lil' Cricket corner store and grab some adult beverages and make our way back to the hotel for some drinking games.  Now, remember when I talked about Donks?  Well, the Lil' Cricket had one.  But there was no customization.  It was just a busted old Caprice Classic with wood paneled siding and a lift kit.  No rims.  Just stock 16 inch wheels.  Anyways, as we're leaving the Lil' Cricket, Step-on-me spots this doozy of a periodical for the low, low price of $1.00 (best dollar we ever spent):

Remember the Highlights Magazines when you were a kid?  The one with the puzzles and games?  This is like that, but for adults.

Puzzle #1

Heidi looks like she's having a hell of a time in jail.

Puzzle #2

Venus Williams in the bottom left hand corner could throw you off here.

I'm not giving you the answers just yet.  Let's see if anyone can get them right.  Comment below to see how you do.  Here's a hint to #2:  The answer is a crime.  Although they all quite possible have the same V.D., I'm sorry to report that's not the answer.

I win.

mr. overly competitive

Hot and Steamy with a Chance of Self Love

Dear Texas,

We all know how you feel about yourself.  Self love is a good way not to get someone or yourself pregnant, but for you, it’s just odd.  The state of Texas tattoos, the giant state of Texas emblems on every highway bridge, and the Texas-sized. . . . .well, everything.  We get it, you’re a big state.  Well, I’m from Michigan so I thought I would one up you and get myself a state of Michigan tattoo:

What do you think?  

Although I wish that splotchy, pasty white chest with oddly positioned nipples could be mine, it’s not.  But you see how ridiculous it is to get a TATOO OF A STATE, right?  Good.

Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about weather.  

Triple Digits for a week straight?  Seriously?  Thanks to you, my A/C blew up two days ago.  I had one hooottt dog when I got home.  And not the yummy, questionable meat kind either.  Our apartment was about 98 degrees when I got home Tuesday and Nick Lachey wasn’t even there.  No, but seriously, the thermometer read 98 degrees.  (Read: The sweat dropped down my balls)  It was a swamp-ass nightmare.  

So, in conclusion, I’m leaving you tomorrow.  We’re going to the Carolinas to get away from your hot, sticky mess and to a place where state pride is demonstrated by flying a confederate flag out the back of your pick-up.  Good day, sir.

I said good day!

I win,
mr. overly competitive  

Pee.S - Don’t forget to check out “Would you Rather. . . . .” daily.  I promise it will give you a warm and fuzzy feeling inside and make your day more interesting. . . . . . .or at least a bit more humorous! 

Would you rather. . . . ?

Question for the ages, right?  Well get this.

There's a new blog in town.  It's called Would You Rather. . . . and it's coming to an office or playground near you.  There may even be an app for that.  Hmmmm. . . . .million dollar idea of the day?

In all seriousness though, you should check this out and follow this daily.  You won't be disappointed.  You might even find yourself strangely aroused. 

Go ahead.  Click it.  I dare you!
WOULD YOU RATHER. . . . .


I win.
mr. overly competitive

Cops and Robbers

We just got robbed.  Not at gunpoint, but with a whistle.  Who didn't watch the World Cup (or at least Sportscenter for the highlights)?  

Well, if you didn't watch it, here's a recap . . . . .and a kick to the baby-maker.  Way to be un-American.

We were down 0-2 going into the second half.  We scored 2 goals to tie the game and with about six minutes left, scored again.  Except this guy in the yellow shirt below, screwed the pooch.  Right in the pooper.  

Photo Source

I'm not whining.  That's what the rest of the world is going to say about this when they hear anyone from the U.S. say anything about this play.  But com'n. . . .even the most inept sports fan can see that the ref stuck his hand in our pocket, fiddled with our junk, and then left with our wallets.  

The only thing giving us hope is that the epidemic of bad teeth finally caught up with England and they weren't able to beat Algeria.  So . . .a win against Algeria for the U.S. puts us through to the next round.  

If this were another country, the ref would already be dead . . . . . or in a barn somewhere being forced to watch re-runs of That's So Raven.  

I win.

mr. overly competitive

The Shoe that Lost its Way

Have I got a funny one for you.  It may be one of those “you had to be there" moments, but I think you’ll find the humor in it nonetheless.

Today is my buddy’s (and colleague’s) birthday.  Now, to know the guy explains a lot.  He’s a bit of a kid-at-heart.  Still reads comic books.  Still plays video games....lots of video games.  And has plenty of action figure toys at his desk.  So, it’s not unusual that someone dropped off a birthday present for him today that involved a remote and a helicopter flown by said remote.  It’s 9 in the morning on a Wednesday . . . . what else are we going to do but make him open that puppy up and give it a test run!?!

After an hour of untangling the wires that hold the pieces to the package, we realized we were two AA batteries short of a good time.  After parading around the office to find the 2 batteries, we were set to take flight.  Because everyone knows you can’t fly a helicopter inside, we took the show out front.  Butofcourse.  Unfortunately, the first flight landed our little buddy in a tree . . . . .where we couldn’t reach it.  After Zach’s 2 inch vertical jump failed to bring down the toy, Junior resorted to removing a shoe and tossing it at the branch in which the helicopter was lodged.  After 2 hits, it hung on by little more than a leaf.  One more hit and we’d be good. . . .well, we'd be good.  Junior would be a bum (you'll get it later).  My job was to catch the helicopter to keep it from hitting the car underneath the tree, but more importantly to keep the toy from breaking.  Because we’d then be bored again and have to go back into work.  Zach’s job was to supervise.  Junior's job was to catch his shoe to keep it from hitting the car beneath the tree.  Zach supervised (FAIL).  I caught the helicopter (WIN).  Junior didn’t catch his shoe (FAIL).  Unfortunately, there just happened to be a storm drain directly beneath us.  Junior’s shoe didn’t survive and fell into the depths of a storm drain.  So, now you have three grown kids, laughing hysterically, holding a remote control helicopter, and one of them is walking around with one shoe on.   See, I told you it was funny.  I can't make this up.

So, you know we couldn't let the shoe just be all by its lonesome in the storm drain.  So, we devised a brilliant extraction plan MacGruber-style using a coat hanger and a small mirror. There was gum involved, but I swallowed it on the way outside.   

Chicks dig guys who play in sewer drains.

 Today, for the first time in mr. overly competitive history, we have a co-champion.  Junior wins.  And of course. . . . .

I win.

mr. overly competitive

World Cup Woes

I was so excited by the World Cup’s impending takeover of the sports world. . . . even in the overwhelmingly soccer I.Q.-less Nation of the U.S. of A.  Seriously, it’s like a transient bum.  The media attention comes in for a month every 4 years, steals your food and liquor, and then is gone.  On to the next stop.  But so far in the five days the World Cup has been playing, I’m getting quite bored.  The teams that should be playing brilliantly, are barely coming out with a win . . .if not a draw.  I’m talking about you France and Portugal.

I will say however, that I’m pretty pleased our team was able to pull out a draw with Merry-Ol’ England.  That’s what they get for producing the likes of Madonna and a kid named Apple.  Wait, Madonna’s from Michigan?  Why does she speak with a British accent then?  Stupid Carl.

The bonus of all this is that I work at a place that encourages us to stay up with the World Cup.  Therefore they have a full room dedicated to playing the games on a projection screen everyday.  Boo-ya!

So, since I can watch the World Cup all day, but have been less than impressed, I have some letters to write:

Yes, ladies.  It's true.

Photo Source

Letter #1
Dear Ronaldo,

Please spend less time taking dives and waxing your legs, and more time scoring goals.  Oh, and your hair gel is asking for a rest.

Sincerely,
mr. overly competitive

Letter #2
Dear Alexi Lalas,

Stop talking.

I hate you,
mr. overly competitive

Letter #3
Dear Media,

Yes, the Vuvuzelas are loud.  They are HORNS.
Yes, the ball is new and the players are going to complain about it.

We get it.  Loud noises and big balls scare you.  Get.Over.It.

I win.
mr. overly competitive

Riddle Me This . . . .

I’ve got questions, hopefully there’s answers:

Question 1
Why in the world are there Braille dots on the key pad of a drive-up ATM?  I went to the bank the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about this when I left.  It’s haunting me.  Like Lindsay Lohan’s pancake boobies.  [shudder]

Question 2
Why isn’t palindrome spelled the same way backwards as it is forwards?  We made this watch and nicknamed it Palindrome for the Starck brand.  It’s a cool word, but you’d think whoever came up with it could have been a little more ironic.  Thanks, Webster.

Question 3
If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn?  So maybe you’ve all heard that they are coming out with an animated Smurf movie.  Awesome, right?  Gotta love old school cartoons.  I feel sorry for kids these days.  They don’t know what they missed.  Anyways, Barney Stinson, AKA Doogie Howser, AKA Neil Patrick Harris, AKA The.Coolest.Gay.Man.Ever.That.I’d.Swear.Was.a.Straight.Man is one of the voices along with George Lopez, Jayma Mays, B.J. Novak, Katy Perry, and Hank Azaria.  Too bad it wasn’t live-action.  Who knew there were mexican Smurfs?

RIDDLE ME THAT!

In other news, I am heading back to Myrtle Beach, SC where I went to school (Read: where I went to go surfing) here in a couple weeks for the Duurty Thuurty party.  Yeah, I hit that milestone about 3 weeks ago.  But, if this RedNeck-Fest doesn’t make me feel 21 again, nothing will.  I hear there was a slip-n-slide involved . . . . . should be fun.  In fact, here's my latest interaction with another one of my buddy's being inducted into the 30 year-old hall of fame:

Me:  So, what should I bring to this RedNeck Fest in a couple weeks besides my super white thighs and a case of Natty Light?

His Response . . . .

I can't wait!

I win. 

mr. overly competitive

Missing You

Holy crap!!  Where have you been?  Where have I been!?!

I'd like to say I was off saving the world with Sally Struthers or off in China making millions of dollars creating these little bracelet things:

Seriously?  I guarantee these things cost a hay penny to make apiece.  Add that to a $1.00 for the packaging (at most) and then sell them at $15 for a pack of 72?  Why can't I think of an idea that makes me a margin of 900%?  (Yes, I did the math).  Even if these things trend for a year, whoever came up this idea just retired.  But, I digress. . . . . . .

Anyhoo, lots of things we've missed in my absence.  Let's recap the top five happenings in the last 2-3 weeks:

5.  Jim Joyce (MLB umpire) humanized officials in Major League sports and Armando Galarraga showed that not all professional athletes are prima donnas.  Take notes, Cristiano Ronaldo.
4.  We decided that our Mahi Mahi is best served with a side of Quaker State.  Good work BP.
3.  The weather in Dallas hit 100 the other day and there's no end in sight.  Apparently it's going to be around 105 degrees this weekend or swamp ass weather, as I like to call it.
2.  Some punks climb up to our second story balcony in the middle of the night and stole a bike and pair of shoes.  Scary thing is, we were in the middle of moving so we had just decided to sleep out in the living room . . . . with the patio door unlocked.  Our viscous guard dog barked and growled, but when I investigated in my hazy, sleepy fog, I didn't see anything.  It wasn't until the next day we realized what had happened.  I'm buying a gun.
1.  Based on #2, we FINALLY moved!!!  For the first time living in Dallas, I actually feel like I'm "home" when I come home.

I win.
mr. overly competitive

Volcano Shmalcano

I've got the winningest win of all wins.  It wasn't necessarily a competitive victory.  But a win nonetheless.  It was pretty much one of those things that is a once in a lifetime thing.  Not to be confused with being awesome, which is pretty much an every day experience.  


I arrived at the airport Sunday to fly back to the States at about 8:00am for my 10:30am flight.  The day before we had been monitoring things since Spain was shut down because of the volcanic ash floating over-head.  You know, from Eyjafjallajokull volcano in Iceland.  Anyways, so I show up, the boards read "Your Screwed".  It might have just said "cancelled" or "awaiting information".  Either way I waited around Terminal style eating ketchup packets and saltines until my flight finally took off at 4.  Our flight plan took us up around to the north and over Iceland where we got to see this:

We weren't right on top of it, but how often do you get to see a bleepin' volcano that's not on the Discovery Channel (which is also awesome, by the way).  


Anyways, if that doesn't do anything for you, stop reading . . . . . . .No, just kidding.  Come back.  Please.  I can't afford to lose any readers.  Here, here's a gift for you.  It's up close and personal shots of the volcano.  Now, I know most of you will probably just skip over this link and go on to the next blog.  That's what I'd do.  But, don't.  They're pretty dope.  I swear it's worth the click.  Unless your life consists of following Britney Spears' braless crusades, you will appreciate them.  


MACGRUBER!!


I win.
mr. overly competitive

Why I need to hit the lottery . . .

 .  . . . . .so I can own one of these cars:

Ferari Spider

Porsche "I am parked a space ahead of the Ferari above, 

but I'm matte black front to back so I'm still cool " Targa

Ferari Sessanta

Bentley "It's Murda!" Continental GT

Lamborghini Gallardo

Austin Healy

Kind of looks like I just pulled photos from the internet, right?  Sorry to disappoint your theory that I really am as bad of a blogger as this thing portrays.  Within two roads, one square block, and a half-an-hour time-span I saw all six of these cars.  Like the Porsche caption says, sometimes they just decided to line up the cars I can't afford to make sure it was easy for me to see what I will never have.  Thanks.

I bet my Saturn gets better gas mileage though!

I win.

mr. overly competitive

Back to the mainland . . . . .

I'm baaa-aaack!  So, it's been a spell since I've graced everyone with . . . . .well, anything at all.  I can explain.  

First, I was in the land of dirt roads and rice fields (AKA China).  Second, upon my return, I've been greeted with uber amounts of work  in fact, the only reason you're getting some love right now is because I'm far above France or Spain right now and I have nothing else to do.  And finally, third, between globe-trotting and being a slave to Fossil, I've been ensuring that I don't lose 2 things - Step-on-me and our new apartment.  I apologize to you all, but Step-on-me does come a little ahead of my competitive conquests (just a little . . . .sshhhh, don't tell).

So, returned from China and HK a couple weeks ago.  Great trip, great people, not-so-great food.  Here's a few examples:

This little piggy went to market . . .and got it's feet stuffed in it's face!!

These were in the window one minute, on our plates the next.

This is the a-la-carte bar for dinner . . . .crustacean or stingray.

Let's just get this out of the way because undoubtedly someone will bring it up:  I lost at darts horribly while in China.  We were basically captive in the hotel while there but luckily there was a nice little bar downstairs to keep us entertained (there was also a brothel,  "You want massage?  Lots of pretty girls.  Do ANYTHING you want." buuuuuut that's another story). 

My love for darts took a big hit one night.  I think we played about 6 games total . . . . . . I went 0-6.  Let me rephrase:  My sorry excuses for partners and I went 0-6.  This is going to sound petty and even as if I'm passing the buck, but as competitive as I am, 2 vs 1 (maybe 2 vs 1 1/4) is hardly a fair fight.  And who knows, maybe because it was my boss, I let him win.  We'll never know, will we . . . . . .  

In any case:

My Boss and his partners 6; mr. overly competitive 0

Lucky for me I came back the next night with a vengeance and went undefeated.  Boo-ya-shaka!

More on China/HK to come. . . . . . .

This week we got a call from our new apartment complex.  Apparently the people whose apartment we were supposed to take over had a house deal fall through and a week before they were supposed to move out, they decided they wanted to re-up their lease.  We were given the option of booting them or taking another, less attractive, horribly located apartment.  What to do?  What to do?  We could be jerks and kicked the people out or be nice and settle for a not-so-perfect place.  We were jerks.  We feel bad.  We do.  But, com'n now . . . . . . we spent 2 months looking and extended our own lease because the place we put a deposit down on was perfect-o for us.  Plus, I have spent post college life settling for places because they were affordable.  Just once I wanted a place that was nice and maybe, just maybe, would help me feel like home here in Dallas.  

Anyways, I'll see what I can do about some more consistent posting.  I'm not making any promises though.  Pinky or otherwise.  

But, I will leave you with this:

My cell . . .I mean "designer" hotel room in Milan

I win.

mr. overly competitive

Cornhole

Yes, I said it.  But it's not what you think, unless you've played it before then, in fact, it is exactly what you think.  It's a highly skilled game of precision and strategy meant to titillate the mind and senses with it's highs and lows.  Ooorrrrrrr it's a redneck game that's just above Lawn Darts, but with less chance to kabob your foot.  Oh, and a beverage in hand is a requirement to play.  A bit of advice . . . . . don't ever call it "Cornhole" to gay men.  I made the mistake of answering the "What is this game called?" question to a gay man with "Cornhole".  His eyes lit up like he was Tiger Woods at an Adult Video Awards banquet.  


Cornhole is a brilliant game introduced to me by Ian, Zach and Kristin.  Apparently it's a midwest, Ohio game.  You can understand why, even in Michigan, I'd never heard of it before.  Nobody takes anything from Ohio.  They even had to keep Lebron James.


In any case, in the spirit of this blog and it's winning ways, I thought it only appropriate to post about a game I played last night with Step-on-me's brother, Doc (not his real name, but he was a Navy Corpsman so thus the nickname).  


Side note:  One thing you should know about me is that, while I'm not a superstar at any one sport/activity (except life, duh), I tend to be fairly competent at most competition-based activities . . . . thus the title of this blog.  I think the reasoning is that I never wanted to be last picked, or if I was, I wanted to piss off the other team by being really, really good so that they regretted not picking me earlier.  


So, I've been giving Doc a shellacking since he moved down here two weeks ago and since the weather is finnnnallly getting nice.  Last night was no different, but he's progressed in his Cornhole IQ and started to make it a game.  


Here's the scenario:  mr. overly competitive is up 20-19.  I've already gone over 21 once (which means my score returns to 13 since the goal is to hit 21 exactly) and clawed my way back in it with some acute gameplay.  Needing only 1 point to win, I began my barrage of 1 point shots (on the board is 1 point; in the hole is 3).  Doc stepped up his game and was matching me bag-for-bag (you only score points on the positive points you earn - for example, if I have 3 bags on and Doc has 2 on, I score 1 point).  So, neither of us was willing to concede.  And then this happened:

I'm the neon bags.  Doc's orange.  You see that bag on the ground to the right?  That was Doc's final toss.  All he had to do was knock Mr. Cliffhanger there off the edge or put his bag on the board.  Epic fail, my friend.  Epic fail.  


mr. overly competitive 21; Doc 19


I win.
mr. overly competitive

Plum Toe and Sparty's Big Run . . . . .

Lots of goings on.  Lots to share. 

So, as I talked about recent post, we’re apartment hunting.  We finally met with Re/Max Mrs. last Thursday.  Not as cuckoo for cocoa puffs as I thought in person, but still a bit of a nut.  Saw the place and liked it.  Told her we’d probably fill out some applications for it.  Problem was, when we received the apps, there was blank spots and wrong info (for example – the date read October somethingerother, 2008 and the address was wrong).  Nope, not about to sign anything like that.  Then, we received an email Friday morning telling us we had until noon to get the apps in because the owner had another applicant interested.  I don’t deal well with deadlines of this nature.  It’s like if you told Tiger he could only pick one porn-star to sleep with.  Troublesome.  Especially when I still had an uneasy feeling about the whole deal.  In any case, we emailed and said we understood someone else might take it, but we weren’t ready to commit just yet.  Time to mull it over during the weekend, right?

Re/Max Mrs.:  “He said $XXXX (amount lower than before) if you’re still interested”.

Soooo, what happened to the other applicant?  Needless to say, we didn’t take the place.  Didn’t quite add up.

We ended up taking a larger apartment in the place we moved out of a year and a half ago when Step-on-me moved to D.C. to work for a while.  Boy am I relieved that that’s finally done with . . . . . I will not go homeless after all.

Friday was eventful too.  I had another soccer game where I managed to break a toe.

Chicks dig injuries, right?

I’ve been limping around all weekend w/ a plum attached to my foot.  FYI - it's worse than in this photo.

But alas!  To make up for all of that, my Spartans are back in the Final Four for the second straight year!  So, come Saturday at 5:07pm, you all know where I’ll be.  (maybe not, but you can bet there’ll be a TV and tall beer in front of me).

I know, Coach . . . .I can't believe they don't have Labatt's down here in Texas either!

GO GREEN!

I win.

mr. overly competitive


[Side Note:  Can someone tell me why the editing system for blogspot's about as useful as   braille on a drive up ATM?]

Road Rules

No, not the lame show that's still taking up valuable music video time on (not)MTV.  I’ve seen some things the last couple days while I’ve been driving and thought it a good time for an etiquette update – this one’s for the road so, please . . . take notes:


Rule #1 – when driving you may be in your car, but people can still see you . . . . .this means when you go mining for boogs at a stop-light, everyone sitting around you can see it.  You’re not invisible.  Nor are you working for DeBeers.  There’s no diamonds coming out of there.  Put the finger away slowly and, for Jimminy Christmas’ sake, wash your hands when you get home.


Rule #2 – singing in the shower is ok.  Singing in your car w/ the windows rolled up is still ok, but you risk looking like you have imaginary friends.  Singing loudly in your car with the windows rolled down at a stop light on a warm day?  Bad news bears.  Sorry Mastercard.  The only thing priceless about this is the frightened feeling I get when I think a pack of rabid wounded ducks are attacking the intersection.  Oh, and news flash . . . . .it’s even worse when you have your radio volume at a level only you’re able to hear, but anyone outside of a 5 foot radius can not.  So, listen Lady Gaga, try and tone down the bad romance.  Mouth the words.  Turn your radio up loud enough to drown out your squawking.  Or just don’t sing at all.  The corner of MLK Blvd. and Main Street (because every city has both those) is not the place to warm up your vocal cords for your next American Idol fiasco.


Rule #3 – I’m guilty of the Facebook driving.  Well, let’s say Facebook-stopped-at-a-red-light-driving.  When you can’t keep the car in your lane because your status updating your friends that you just hot-boxed yourself with a giant fart, you need to put the phone down.  And if you are tweeting “driving home to see my baby daddy”, or anything else that nobody else really cares about, you should stop.  You should have twatted before you drove or twit when you get home.

This has been a public service announcement from your friendly mr. overly competitive blogspot.  Stay classy, San Diego.

I win.
mr. overly competitive


UPDATE:  Going to meet up with Re/Max Mrs. tonight to view those town homes from the previous post.  I will let you know if she’s as cuckoo for cocoa puffs as I think she is.

For the Love of . . . . .

I'm just going to jump right in here. . . .no foreplay, no stretching.  Straight to the love making . . . . .

For the Love of Me No Love you Long Time - Sorry I've been away.  Did you miss me?  I know.  I'm like the Samoa Girl Scout cookies - you wait and wait for that yummy goodness year after year and after your fifth box decide to switch things up, give the Thin Mints a whirl, only to realize that all you want is the (non-gay) mouth love of Caramel, Coconut and Chocolate.  I digress.  Anyways, I've been having a hard time coming up with things to blog about recently.  fake.british.accent and Speak Into My Good Ear already posted about the Dallas St. Paddy's Day Parade fun . . . . that's my woman on S.I.M.G.E. with the Miller Lite box on her head. . . . yes, it was love at first sight.  Anyways, I've been trying to be a better blogger.  My friends told me that I was getting too Ebonics'd on here so I'm toning it down.  Not the awesomeness, just the Ebonics.  I've been trying to work on more substantial and heart-felt content.  ETrade babies count as substantial.  I'll be better, I promise.  For the Love of Me No Love you Long Time.
  

For the Love of Chinese Finger Traps - Memba' those?  They were rah-tarded, yet you couldn't resist putting your fingers in there.  Anyways, I found out last week that the next stop on my world-wide tour of awesomeness will be in Hong Kong and China.  The Red Army better get ready.  The only thing I'm really worried about is that I will end up eating dog or cat at some point.  I'll try some snake.  I'll try some 'gator.  But house-hold pets don't fly.  Hopefully i can throw out some blog posts and photos while on tour.  Now to find some roadies. . . .For the Love of Chinese Finger Traps.

For the Love of Work-Place Badassness - Yes, it's not just an after-hours lifestyle.  It's a 24/7, non-stop, awake/asleep, daily, in your face badassness.  Clark Kent had to hide his super-cool, super-hero tights during the day.  Not me.  I'll wear those things proudly all day, everyday . . . . . even on cold days (Guys know what I mean)  I'm talking about promotions!  I've been getting the carrot dangled here at work for about 2 years now.  I finally caught the darn thing.  And it tastes good.  I guess that's what happens when you enter "Lifer" status at work, which I will officially enter in August.  10 years.  10 looooooooong years.  For the Love of Work-Place Badassness.  

So, all in all, a pretty darn good week.  I'm satisfied, how about you?  Not as good as the Samoas?  It's a toss up, buuuuuuuut  I think I may have taken this one though . . . . . 

I win.

mr. overly competitive

 

Lindsay Lohan ruined my day . . . . . .

 . . .and here’s why:

You guys know the E-Trade commercials?  You know, BEST.COMMERCIALS.EVER!  Drunkzilla is suing them.  Why?  That’s the best part.  Watch and learn:

Milka-whhhhaaaaat!??!?!?!?!  Apparently Lilo decided that because they used the name “Lindsay” in their commercial and they were talking about -aholics that the reference was actually slighted towards her.  You think I could sue Nabisco for making “crackers”?  Or maybe I could sue Nestle for making “white chocolate” . . . . . (that’s what they call me on the basketball court).  Raindrops!

I guess even coke addicts have to make money somehow in this economy.  Stupid recession.  

Is it weird that the baby in this commercial is my hero?

He's like a mini-mr. overly competitive . . . . 

I win.

mr. overly competitive

Friday Fun . . . . .

It’s Friday, kids.  What's that?  The weather has you feelin’ a little blue?  Do you know what will cheer you up? 

It's peanut butter jelly time!  Peanut butter jelly time! Peanut butter jelly time!  Peanut.butter.jelly.peanut.butter.jelly.peanut.butter.jelly with a baseball bat!

Yeah, servin’ up the Friday fun with a cherry on top.

I’m headed across the pond to Italy for work tomorrow.  I will be there approx. 49 hours total.  I’ll bring you back some pasta.   I hope I don’t get into an armrest fight again.

Oh yeah, I’m pretty excited about this part of my trip:

Yeah, that’s right, that’s all the baggage I’m taking.  Can you say Pack-Master!  And, just in case you think that’s not impressive enough by itself . . . The bottom half of that bag has work-related product in it.  Double Pack-Master.

Winner of this week’s Guess The Falsity of mr. overly competitive’s True Hollywood Story is (drum rolllllllllllll) . . . . . .NOBODY!  Yayyyyy!

The false fact was #7. Too bad nobody got it right.  I was planning to give a special prize to the winner.  $1,255,653 smackaroos.  You lose.

Arrivederci!

I win. 
mr. overly competitive