Uh, we need you to create copy for a sticker that goes on a sandwich. It’s like a 3 inch sticker that tells the customer that you can heat this up in the microwave and that it’s fresh and fast and delicious.

So something like, “Heat and eat! Fast and fresh.”?

Well, we need to specifically say “in the microwave” to make sure they know they need to microwave it to heat it.

Right. We don’t want them to just leave it in the sun for an hour. So something like “Microwave me!” will work?

Actually, we need to give them step by step instructions.

On a 3 inch sticker?

Yes. Something that tells them that they need to take the sandwich TO the microwave, put it inside and heat it, then pay for it, then eat it. And that it’s fast and fresh.

Because they may see the sandwich, they may see the microwave, they may see the sticker that says “Microwave me!” and they may still be confused?”

Exactly.

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? IS THERE SOMEONE ALIVE WHO THINKS, “I’ll just throw this sandwich across the room in the general direction of the microwave. If I just hurl it near that heating contraption, it’ll warm itself up. Wait, what? I have to use my arms and legs? I have to put it INSIDE the oven in order to heat it? Now I’m confused. If only there was a User’s Manual to heating a fucking ham sandwich in a goddamn microwave. What am I, some sort of Einstein over here? I don’t have a degree in physics! I don’t know how heat works! I thought maybe I could just pick the microwave up, bring it over to this aisle and SHOW IT to my sandwich. Just threaten the shit out of my food until it gets hot. I can’t do that? I thought this was a CONVENIENCE store!!!!”

DO YOU REALLY THINK THERE IS ANYONE THAT FUCKING STUPID? AND IF SO, DOES HE EVEN DESERVE TO EAT FOOD? SHOULDN’T WE CONSERVE OUR RESOURCES FOR SOMEONE WHO CAN CONVERT THIS FOOD INTO PRODUCTIVE ENERGY — SOMEONE, OR SOME MONKEY, EVEN, THAT CAN CONTRIBUTE ONE IOTA TO SOCIETY?? IS THIS REALLY FUCKING NECESSARY?

Yes, and don’t forget to also tell them that it’s fast, fresh and delicious.

SHOVE YOUR FAST AND FRESH UP YOUR ASSHOLE. I’M TOO BUSY CREATING THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF HEATING UP A SANDWICH OVER HERE. I’M STILL FIGURING OUT THE MATH OF HOW A PERSON THAT NEEDS TO BE TOLD TO WALK OVER TO A MICROWAVE IN ORDER TO USE IT ISN’T TOO DUMB TO FIGURE OUT CHEWING AND SWALLOWING WITHOUT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS.

Oh, that’s probably a good idea. Do you think we could fit that on the sticker?

[murder/suicide]

Last night, after a long day at work, I found myself thinking, “It would be nice to come home to a clean house, a hot meal, a cold beer, and a screw, if I felt so inclined. Now I get why men hated women’s lib.”

Disturbing.

I’m a feminist. I am grateful for the work of women smarter and stronger than me, who fought for my opportunity to work long hours for little (but equal) pay and without danger of being constantly sexually harassed (and believe me – that danger is great. Have you seen the cans on this one?).

But I now understand how hard it was for men to give up all the creature comforts they had grown accustomed to. Who wouldn’t want all those things to come home to?

I mean, whatever, they’re pigs. But I get it.

Tonight I asked my dog, “What should I have for dinner, Max? Spaghetti-Os or frozen pizza?”

She replied, “You are not making adult choices, Darci.”

Crazy Lady: What are you reading?

Steve: It’s a book called Youth in Revolt.

Crazy Lady: What’s it about?

Steve: Um, it’s about a kid who does some wacky stuff.

Crazy Lady: And he gets in over his head?

Steve: Yeah.

Crazy Lady: So it’s like WarGames.

Steve: Okay. Sure.

Crazy Lady: Cool.

You know that one song you downloaded to settle a bet, or to put on someone’s “so hilariously bad!” mix CD? Oh it was so funny, that song! You showed that person with your obscure 70’s AM Gold reference!

You’re on a slippery slope, my friend.

One day soon, you’ll be sitting in your office with the iTunes on random/shuffle. And even though you started rocking out to the Pixies or the High Tension Wires, or some other respectable band, you’ll find you’ve lost track of time, and suddenly your head is swaying back and forth to “The Biggest Part of Me” by Ambrosia.

That’s when you lose.

Remember that movie? That’s how I feel about tomorrow night, only not as lame. I was so confident (like Mike Dexter!) a few weeks ago, and now I’m so nervous (like Preston Meyers!). What if Obama doesn’t win? What if I have to live in a world where Sarah Palin is Vice President? What if I lose my virginity to Seth Green in a bathroom? It’s all so scary!

If you click the li’l picture there, you’ll see the tagline for the movie:

Yesterday’s history. Tomorrow’s the future. Tonight’s the party.

That sort of applies to the election, too. Although I guess “Yesterday’s history. Tomorrow’s the future.” really applies to everything, as it’s pretty much just the definition of “yesterday” and “tomorrow.” And in this case, tomorrow’s the party, and tomorrow will make history. Which I guess leaves the future for yesterday and today. Math!

My point is, I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I’m totally going to lose my job at the orange juice factory!

LISTS ARE FUN. They are the shortcut to comedy. I published a lot of lists on Kittenpants over the years, like this and this and this.

But listing can become an obsessive habit that lasts forever. Uncle Sloppy, and I would get stuck on a topic and wear the fuck out of it until the list reached its pinnacle of cannot-be-topped. Then we’d forget about it for a while, and then list some more. Examples, you say?

Celebrity Knock Knock Jokes. (Richard Pryor who? Richard Pryor hands off that crack pipe! Etc.) This started as a road-trip driving diversion and lasted from rural Pennsylvania to Brooklyn, NY. Just as we pulled up in front of our apartment, John started to cry from laughing and finally choked out the words “Tempest Bledsoe!” I did not quite make it to the bathroom in time. Who’s there? Pee pants.

Rape lyrics. For whatever reason, John had a group of us substituting the word “rape” and other rape themes into every song ever written (“Despite all my rape I am still just a man in a cape“). This lasted for days – maybe weeks. It ended one night at 4 a.m. when I left him the following voicemail: “Clap your hands everybody/If you got what it takes/Cause I’m Kurtis Blow and I want you to know that These. Are. The Rapes!!“

Band Names. John’s the prolific one here, with his definitive list (an, [incredibly] abridged, 18-page version appears on KP) that has been crafted for over a decade. But my new Twitter is carrying that torch into 2010.

The Ninth Configuration of Morrissey. Okay, this is more inside-joke-gone-too-far, than listy, but John and I replace all Smiths lyrics with two quotes from The Ninth Configuration: “Colonel, what are you holding?” and “I cut off his head with a wire, but it kept on talking.” Just imagine singing either of those lines with Morrissey’s voice and you get it. You may not like it, but you get it. I like it and I get it.

I started listing in high school. All the cool kids were doing it, and I couldn’t withstand the peer pressure. Okay, none of the cool kids were doing it. Or maybe they were. We didn’t have cool kids at my high school. But it began when my friend Rhonda and I spent ALL NIGHT singing up new idiotic verses of the “Diarrhea song” (“When you’re talking to your dog, and your pants are full of smog, diarrhea…”) and has been a compulsion ever since.

Which brings me to today, and what made me think about my listing obsession. My friend Howard sent me the BroMania list-in-progress, which is a project fueled by hours in a tour van logged by the members of Centro-matic, and continued by the bros in Tre Orsi and The New Year.

Centro-matic bassist, Mark Hedman, explains: “See, wha’ had happened was, we started talking about the need to expand our list of salutations. Addressing someone as “cuz”, “captain”, or “commodore” will motivate a vanmate to pass the pretzels/current issue of Maxim only so many times… The solution? Delve deeper into linguistic depravity by commandeering the Abercrombie & Fitch attired salutation “Bro” and grafting it with the newly pioneered context reference technique of [attaching any noun or verb that could describe a person's current action or context].”

The result is the Encyclopedia Brotannica, conveniently Google Doc’d for you here. I asked Howard if I could talk about it in this article. He answered, “Brotally.”

Feel free to list your loves and hates of this post in the comments.

Katey took this picture on her cell phone at a CVS today.

if this is a picture of you, I’m sorry but you are wrong.

Reminds me of the time Uncle Sloppy and I were driving down Sixth Avenue in NYC and saw a guy who, I swear to Jarod, must have weighed 600 pounds wearing a baby blue t-shirt that said, “Are you gonna eat that?”

He just totally owned it, you know?

This lady was wearing matching “Genius” pants. She is not “owning it.”