that dirty joke better make me puke

As far as workplaces go, mine is definitely awesomely abnormal. For one, the vast majority of my tiny office is 30 or under. In fact, save for our boss and our office manager, the entire office is squarely part of Generation Y. Yet while our birth certificates claim us as part of Generation Y, I'm pretty sure we come off as even more immature.

My office is a bit of an indoor playground from hell. There is A LOT of Nerf weaponry; a large poster of a former assistant secretary to something decorated with Flock of Seagulls hair, Kanye West glasses, a molester mustache and, of course, several shirtless Putins; and a whole slew of inter-office taglines, including, but not limited to:

"I'm not too good for that."

"Plaintain-hammock!"

"I'll bite your ass!"

"Who's this dick?"

"Tease Me With Your Butt, The Sequel."

And of course, the very necessary, "That's what she said," which punctuates the end of far more inappropriate sentences than it does at Dunder Mifflin. Moreover, as to be expected, rape, butt cancer and any jokes that would be considered suitable material for a multi-million, possibly billion dollar sexual harassment lawsuit elsewhere abound. Once, my boss even asked me to Google "hot pants." Don't ask.

The point is, if my office suddenly shut down and we all had to get jobs elsewhere, we'd probably all be swiftly fired, or at least I would be, as having only previously worked in offices in Moscow, Russia, I've been completely conditioned to never get offended nor realize when I offend someone else. Although, I suppose, by "realize," I mainly mean "care." I just don't care.

Apparently, however, this would make me a most unsuitable candidate to work at Metro (as well as very poor as I'd be fending off at least a dozen lawsuits every few months), as The Examiner reports a Metro engineer of 16 years was fired recently for telling a dirty joke.

When I first heard about this story, I must admit I was very intrigued. I wanted to know what this controversial dirty joke was so I could tell it to my office! Luckily, the bloggers extraordinaire over at DCist did this legwork (or would it be buttwork, since we're talking about something naughty?) for me:

Uncle is drinking at a bar with his nephew.

Nephew says, "I finally got to give my girlfriend oral sex last night. But it wasn't like you said. Thanks for the tips, but it didn't taste at all like a peach. It tasted like sh*t."

Uncle says: "Well, you've got to flip her over."

What?! That's it?! A little cunnilingus allusion and a scatological reference?! That will get you fired in this town?! Are we sure it was because this joke was offensive? Because honestly, I'd be more likely to fire him for telling such a disappointingly unfunny dirty joke. I mean, if you're going to go for it, then GO FOR IT. Bestiality! Necrophilia! I mean, can I get a "What What (In the Butt)" for Samwell's sake?!

In fact, if you're going to get fired, forget about words all together, because it's inappropriate actions that make for the best material for long-time laughs. Perhaps an inappropriate massage from your 60-something-year-old boss? Or maybe his hexagenarian endomorphic gut gets a little too close to you for comfort? Or hell, let's go ball's out (that pun is clearly intended) -- perhaps it's high time we all just pop our pants off in the workplace. Or maybe just me. My tight pants feel so constricting sometimes.

Yet even if I did do that, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get fired because, as we've learned from the above story, I'm pretty sure there is no office more depraved than the one in which I work, meaning that, besides the part about having actual reponsibilities, my office is the tightest comedic environment I could ever ask for. Seriously, I bet I could literally run around this place naked setting sh*t on fire and I still wouldn't get fired. Although, I guess that would depend on what I burned. The point is, my office is a magical little place where the line is a dot and even then it's still invisible. It's perfect.

Except, seriously, can I get some staples up in this piece?! Honestly, who do I need to go sexually harass to fill my stapler?! "THAT'S. WHAT. SHE. SAID!"

yet somehow i'm still gainfully employed...

It's been a year since I first posted this, the original thesis statement of this silly little blogging endeavor. Have I stuck to it? Kind of. Do I care? Not really. Unlike Baskin Robbins circa 1996, I can't get fired from this job, since, well, it's not really a job. Phew. But much like a job, in the past year the metaphorical huffing glue that is The Anti DC has morphed from a random hobby into a daily obsession. Unfortunately, mastering the art of bitching with a generous dollop of retardedness, doesn't add any pennies to my McScrooge-style money vault. But what it lacks in cold hard cash, this blog makes up for in unhealthy ego inflation. Apparently, people read this sh*t. Who knew?! Well, Statcounter, I guess.

But while my spiffy Statcounter tells me how many people get here and from where they come (Googling "vladimir putin speedo" recently led someone here), no gadget of any kind will ever enlighten me as to why people actually stay. Is it my e-magnetism? My elegant wordsmithing? Or am I simply the e-village idiot? Whatever the reason, it's besides the point (although I suspect it's the latter) because it's time I extend a sincere thank you to all of you, the readers, who make writing each day all the more enjoyable. So, thank you. And merci, gracias, danke, 谢谢, kiitos, спасибо, شكر and so on and so forth to all the misguided Googlers around the world searching for "hookers in tight pants." Hey, wait a second...

But enough about you, let's get back to the real cause for celebration -- my unending dorkdom.

And so, allow me to shove you down memory lane, or, for those of you who are relative newcomers, allow me to introduce you to some of my past "work" by composing a masturbatory timeline highlighting the milestones that led to this blog's current state of degeneration. Break out the virtual guns and super-sized bottles of booze and gather 'round your loved ones because it's e-party time!


11/12/07: wait, wait ... you're how old again? I consider this my first respectable post, but has DC met my plea to "remove the proverbial stick swiftly and permanently wedged in its collective ass?" The jury in my mind is still out on that. But more importantly, I still can't detect any permanent wrinkles!

11/19/07: ground control to major douche In what would later become a full-scale theory, this post marks my first attempts to understand "douchebaggism" through the actions of a man named Rusty Cox. I wonder who he's making feel uncomfortable with his unwanted sexual advances this year?

12/12/07: i'll see your bleached jeans and pleather go-go boots in hell The Anti DC Theory of Fashion, which I still believe to be valid today, came to fruition in this post, thanks to the mind-reader that is Miss Cleo, as well as the genius of Pee-Wee Herman and the cartoon phlegm made famous in Mucinex ads. Yeah, it's a solid theory.

12/20/07: i'll see dc's public transportation system in hell Continuing a series of DC-related things I nonchalantly announced I would "see in hell," this post marked my first usage of my most favorite non-word, "retardulous." Re-reading this post makes me so happy that I'm now a bicycle commuter. Not only do I no longer have to see DC's retardulous public transportation system in hell, but I don't have to see it at all.

1/4/08: dc fashion blog jihad anyone? Thanks to a shout-out by A Serious Job Is No Excuse's Johanna, who will hopefully win an editorial position at Elle as part of that show Stylista, which I can't even watch because I'm poor and only get four channels (sigh), this post is probably in the Top 3 as far as how many human eyes have seen it. (And that sentence is in the Top 3 as far as how many clauses I can pack in.) It was also my first post that had repercussions, since I targeted specific blogs run by actual human beings, rather than dumb generalizations that no one cares about. Whoops. And so the next day I issued my first and only clarification, i.e. I'm not a complete asshole (i've got some 'splainin to do!).

2/26/08: home on the range... A whole new world of awesome opened up for me regarding the activity about which I composed this post -- skeet-shooting. I loved it so much that I decided to try my hand at video-montage making. Did it work out? I guess, in a remedial sort of way. This post also contains the first of a now far-too-regular feature, outfit amour-propre, that has me HTML-ing ridiculous photos of myself that will surely come back to haunt me in the future. On the other hand, I've got a mega tight firearm in this picture, which might haunt your dreams.

3/14/08: where there's smoke, there's hitchhiking Accurate reporting and ethics have never really been important on this blog, so I have no way of verifying the purported truth most of the time, unless, of course, something happens directly to me (and even then, it's probably still a little sketchy). However, I had to take this guy's word for it regarding the day DC became helpful and friendly. It's too good not to believe. However, the next day the city returned to business douching as usual.

3/17/08: party like it's 1999 ... in hell Once again, as I continue to astound myself on this e-trip down memory lane, I was spot on in my analysis. As far as nightlife in DC goes, I'm still convinced there are excellent nights and then nights that make you want to do something illegal just to get arrested. Yes, even prison sounds more pleasant than some supposed "clubs" in DC.

3/20/08: and now i will offensively explain why you hate your job I'm sensing that the more I blogged, the more creative my titles got, if, of course, by "creative" I mean I could've saved everyone from reading something excessively long by just stopping at an 11-word headline. And, surprisingly, this post did not get me fired. Although there's always still time for that, I suppose...

4/9/08: shambles p.i.: dc better watch its proverbial back In my never-ending quest to expand my offensive reach, this day marked the first of what has become almost as regular a feature as me blogging my own outfits (see above). Judging from reader feedback, Shambles P.I. might be the most popular and interactive aspect of this entire blog. See? That's what The Anti DC is all about -- bringing people together ... to collectively mock others. You're welcome.

4/17/08: uh-oh! people don't like me! If you've read this blog for any period of time, chances are you've realized The Anti DC does it's fair share of courting e-trouble, whatever that means. In turn, it seems not everyone loves me. It's weird. But to those people, I continue to say, "I'll see you in hell."

5/6/08: i will see your motor vehicle in hell Marking one of the most glorious days since I've moved to DC, this post outlines my purchase of my bicycle, Baguette. Vive le liberté!

5/31/08: p-a-r-t-y? 'cuz we got to! I try my hand at fiction using all the winning words from the Scripps National Spelling Bee, which I was cool enough to watch on TV when it aired...on a Saturday night. If I'm in DC for next year's bee, though, I am 100 percent attending this sh*t live. I'll be sure to wear nacarat and cause an esclandre.

6/16/08: i bought tickets to the gun show My fascination with guns continued throughout the summer when The Law and I attended our very first, quite probably illegal gun show. This sh*t was hardcore in that I almost got lynched for taking a photo. On the other hand, I learned how to put a booby-trap in a chocolate bar.

8/11/08: you're a dick, ma'am This post records what probably is my most ridiculous effort to throw down a gauntlet of justice on a driver's ass. To this day, I don't understand what happened...sir.

9/8/08: inevitable questions Coming off an employer-funded bender in Vegas is never easy. However, avoiding conversations with uninteresting people is. Clutch advice, no? Don't answer that...

10/3/08 death threats! hooray! And to close this megalomaniacal review of my megalomaniacal e-personality disorder, I'll conclude with a post about an incident that proved to me that I had finally e-made it -- my first threat of bodily harm. Thank you, anonymous would-be maimer, thank you. You made my year!

Here's to another?

:)

shambles p.i. -- the hickburger edition

I don't know quite how it turned into hamburger week here at The Anti DC, but I guess when it rains, it pours, or more appropriately, when it grills, it chars, which explains why, on the heels of the delicious shazzambles at Z Burger yesterday, my very own mother sent me this snapshot of some small-town burger shambles this morning.

Mmm...delicious "new little hickburgers."

I'm trusting the hickburgers at this Hayes, Va., Hardees are even tastier than their thickburgers. I bet they're covered with Velveeta, bean dip and Hidden Valley Ranch. If that sounds gnarly to you, then you only have your functional tastebuds to blame. If that sounds tasty to you, then I feel bad for you.

But vomit-inducing meaty treats aside, it's important to recognize where this sign was born. Hayes is a tiny speck of a town near Norfolk that features a movie theater, a 7-11 and, for some reason, several hundred tattoo parlors. Clearly, it's a classy place. But it's made even classier after recognizing that the hottest spot in town is definitely this Hardees, which also happens to be the fanciest restaurant within a 20 mile radius. But then again, how could it not be the best when it serves up cheese-product smothered hickburgers?

However, as much as I'd like to pretend there is such a thing as a "hickburger," I fear much like the chimerical "Shazam!" of Z Burger, this is just the work of the high school senior who manages this Hardees. While some may call him a simple prankster, I like to think of this mythical manager as a visionary. He's goin' places! At least on this blog.

Or maybe it was the wind. Eh.

P.S. -- Veering away from hamburgers, but sticking to stuff that deserves the label "Shazam," does anyone know where one can obtain a Captain's yacht hat by tomorrow at 3 p.m.? Um, if so, please send me an E-mail. Thanks!

have a good weekend!

(If it's taking a while to load, just click here for the funny rape joke.)