02 September, 2011

Things I have written in emails to my boss who doesn't read my emails.



"Colin Fredricks has yet to return your call. Dana Peale has yet to return your call. When speaking to Dana, remember she has a sultry phone voice but is mannish in person."

"The head of their board of directors was in The Spanic Boys. Decent band, kinda gay, but 10 times better than Lady Antebellum."

"The letter to Dana Peale will be published in a book of poems: The Tree Thief: Metaphysical Ecoconsciousness, edited by my college girlfriend Myra Metzer. The book will be available for $0. She accepts donations, so she may continue her work, but only in the form of 'Big Red Barn Cooperative Dollars.' She will not accept or even handle US currency."

"I'll deflate your inflatable goat and check the airline schedules."

"I think I should flat out just tell our intern to bleach her moustache. Where is her mother?"

"I will get Jimmy John's for the meeting. I will not get Toppers pizza. Toppers is a blight. Toppers thinks it can just muscle its way up to the pizza trough in Milwaukee, all market saturation and no excellence of pie. What's with the outrageous prices? Toppers needs to get over itself and its boilerplate product. Their slogan could be 'Toppers: Our pizzas are circular.' If I want Little Caesar's I call Little Caesar's."

Subject of email: "Colony collapse syndrome is a scam by big honey."

"James Lee stopped by the office in your absence. I had no clue he was Asian."

"Regarding bring your daughter to work day, I don't have a daughter so can I bring a case of Schlitz?"

"As per your request, I will no longer be concerned about the money your non-profit pays you for consulting. With your permission, I will continue to think it hilarious."

01 September, 2011

I have not posted in a while and this is a great way to tell you that I now have a son!!!



HI! I guess most of you know, there's a new Kowpoke in the Kapuchinski Klan Korral! He's so good looking that I think I'm having "gay panic." It's like the feeling when Paul Newman comes on screen unexpectedly and I make a little gasp. I want to make love to the little guy!

I really thought I'd never have a child to call my own, to love and to mold, to teach the things my father taught me. Like how to fish. My son will fish with me. "My son and I are going fishing" "My son." I just like saying the words. I want to climb a mountain and shout "I have a son! I finally have a son."

My wife Jane already put in the paperwork to call him "Cicci" which is pronounced Chee-Chee. The lawyer she keeps on retainer informs me this is her right. I think I will call him "Buck" though, in honor of the Milwaukee Bucks. "Buck" is what we currently call our adopted son, but fair is fair. I have a son!