Thursday, August 16, 2007

Don't ask me why in the fuck I'm reading this stuff:

at 1:30am in Anchorage. And don't ask about the last several hours I just spent reviewing individual assessor and property records for the Mat-Su Borough. (And TGS, say what we will about Mat-Su, but damn they've got a nice website for reviewing other people's property records: about the nicest I've ever used.)

Then, after hours of reasonably productive web surfing, I fall into the all too common practice of fucking around for an hour or two on the web, and before I know it, it's 1:30am, and for a series of links and click-throughs that I could relate to you, Gentle Reader, but won't, I end up reading a blog about being a consultant. At least it made me laugh out loud, especially this part:
The Art of the Shnap
Shnaps are a great way to escape the pain of a local [consulting] project for 30 minutes to an hour. To take a shnap, you tell the client, “I gotta go drop a deuce, be back in an hour.” You head into the John, slip down your drawers, drop some kids off at the pool, turn off the alarm on your cellphone, put your head in your lap (don’t forget to flush before this step so you’re not huffing your own shit fumes), and sleep.


(In the original version of this post, I actually included a link to the blog that this was in, but decided to remove it. As I read further down in the blog, there was some offensive, racist shit that I didn't like.)

Okay, now I'm really going to go brush my teeth with the electric toothbrush that, after about six years of faithful service and hundreds of falls, has finally developed a large crack. But hey, it's still working!

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