The Crapolla According to Fek'Lar

You Know You're DOOMED When...

Facilities keeps assigning you to smaller and smaller cubes, and your waistline keeps getting larger and larger.

You've stumbled onto another issue of The Crapolla, a journal written for software professionals. No not the managers; I mean the people who do the work.

This Crapolla is sponsored by...

In This Issue...

Your letters and elk shit.

Take A Letter

Phoneboy Writes...

We've had self-service checkouts at Fred Meyer for at least a year (a northwest cross between a Grocery, Hardware, and Housewares store) and the Home Depot here is about to open their self-service lanes. I personally like them if I'm shopping by myself--not so much with a toddler in tow. Why? Because when I go shopping, I want to deal with as few idiots as possible, including the schmucks who work there. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

Where I'm really surprised they haven't shown up is Frys, where you really want the people who work there to leave you the fuck alone. Incidently, Frys is days away from opening a store in the Seattle area.

-- PhoneBoy

Hmm... Fry's in Seattle. What will the store theme be? Rain? Juan Valdez's donkey?

Take Another Letter

LT writes...

Discussions have been had in our office recently regarding the cleaning and de-rustification properties of Coca-Cola, and the healing benefits of bottled water (or so some think). As for myself, the only H2O I pay for comes out of my faucets, toilet or shower. Cold beer suffices most of the time for me anyway.........

Anywho, I was reminded of something posted on lowcomdom.com regarding a letter written, or conversation with a bottled water manufacturer. Something about the water taking on the taste of plastic as the bottle degrades??? Problem is my memory is the second shortest thing I have and your site has no search capabilities...........can you help so I may pass that little bit of truth on to the great unwashed here? I do so enjoy bursting their little bubbles!!!

Pass the pork rinds please,

I think you are referring to my phone calls to Safeway in crap9905.

As for the cleaning properties of the product from the fine folks of Atlanta. It's very true. I think this is a great case for why Diet Coke prevents cancer of the G.I. (That's your guts, not a soldier!) If the acids will burn through steal plate, how could cancer possibly survive?

Oh, Canada

This Crapolla comes to you from the Great White North where I'm attending the Calgary Stampede and Niece Number One's wedding. (No there wasn't a stampede to the alter.)

For the Americans reading this, the Great White North is sometimes referred to as Canada. This is another country that should be depicted on the weather map just above North Dakota, but isn't. By the way, as of this writing, we have not yet been able to trade North Dakota to Canada for a small insignificant piece of land to be named later.

I haven't been in this part of Canada since 1965. It was much bigger back then (or I was smaller, or a little of each.) There are three things I have noticed about Alberta. (That's a Province in Canada, eh!)

The mountains are extremely impressive. Some of them go almost straight up, and they haven't been clear cut like in Oregon.
The people are nice. Everyone seemed sincere in their friendliness. This may be because Canada isn't too busy trying to conquer the rest of the world. They were so nice, I was wondering what they were drinking. Then I found out.
It appears the national soft drink of Canada is A & W Root Beer. (You can't swing a dead beaver without hitting one.) Finding a Diet Coke was a little hard until we cleared U.S. Customs. Then the A & W dried up. Of course you need an excuse to drink that much root beer. That's what french fries with gravy are for. That's right, gravy. When the Canadians (Those are people, some of whom live in Alberta, a Provence in Canada, eh!) learned that you couldn't get french fries with gravy in the Sillycon Valley, they were taken aback. But it makes perfect sense to me. Fried food with gravy, whose principle ingredient is FAT just doesn't mix well with the sprout eaters.

But fries and gravy are very good. I think we're having it this year for Thanksgiving.

Jack Astor's

The trip was a great opportunity for me to add to my t-shirt collection. At a very nice restaurant called Jack Astor's I acquired a, "hoof hearted ice melted" shirt along with the ever popular, "I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous".

The best shirt I heard about, but did not see was for a fraternity, "Keeping your girl friends happy since 1945."

Sister Number Two hit the gift shops and bought elk and beaver droppings. Yes, you can sell any shit to an American. Speaking of shit, at the Rodeo I heard a good one about Texans. I remembered this because Niece Number One is a Texan living in Edmonton (That's a city in Alberta, a Provence in Canada, eh!) The announcer said, "Texans are like horse manure, they're everywhere!"

But he said it an a very friendly way.

This Issue's Headline submission to the National Daily World Enquiring Globe.

The Recall Election is On!

This Week's Lottery Winner Gets The State House!

Let's play, "Who said this?"

Heard in the halls of various software companies.

"He's a team player, not a dork."

"You catered cold cuts and ordered no mustard?"
"There's the Customer Care mustard in the fridge."

"Your servers are down, don't you have any server admins on call. Oh, that's right, your French."

"Maybe you can become a contractor."
"No thanks, I like to wear underwear."

"The only good Chinese restaurants have the words, 'Uncle', or 'Golden Dragon' in their name."
"So the best place would be called, 'Uncle Golden Dragon'? Or perhaps, 'The Golden Dragon who ate my Uncle?'"

"When will you be available next week tomorrow?"

"He's got some really questionable material in his past. I'm mean San Francisco grade material."

Excuse Me

I'm out of gravy, eh!

Fek'Lar
(The Last Honest Geek)

Remember: The Crapolla contains my personal opinions. That's right they're mine, so get your own! And you kids get off my lawn! This whole mess is copyright © 2003 by LowComDom Performances, all rights reserved. Wanna send this to your friends? Go ahead and pass out the URL.

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EOJ

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