I hate sandals and hats. Which is weird because I love feet and hair.
Read MoreTag "ramblings"
Since today seems to be more about politics than reflection, here are two campaign pictures that threw me.
http://www.whoshouldyouvotefor.com
Read MoreWhenever I change my profile on Myspace I like to post the old one here. Gives my listeners a little insight into what makes me me. I usually go the list route. I like lists. Anyway, I’m about to change it up over there, (though I don’t know why, I’m about to jump ship for Facebook) So here is the last one I had up.
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Me? I’m selfish, judgmental, arrogant, insecure, sharp, dull, supercilious, quirky, shy, excitable, grumpy, inured, human and working on bitter.
…I used a thesaurus for that.
A masochist and I love sadists.
My mouth gets me into trouble more than I’m comfortable with.
My stupidity gets me into trouble more than I’m comfortable with.
The look on my face gets me into trouble more than I’m comfortable with.
I like being Italian.
I add an S to all my Gregg Rule notebooks. But I cross out the extra g at the end, so it looks stupid.
As a prank, the next time you’re introduced to someone, respond with this..
“Ah, so you’re the person I’m supposed to kill.”
I want my gravestone to say…
Here lies Greg Granito.
He did a few things right. Except not dying.
Not into politics, but I’ll never hesitate to give my opinion on an issue, regardless of any knowledge or background of said issue.
I’ve got love to give.
Read MoreWhy is it that after you’ve spent the night in a police station, asleep on a couch, waiting for the fingerprint machine to come up with a match, the first question you always ask the officer rousing you from sleep is, “Have you found anything?” This question is kind of implied. Otherwise you wouldn’t have slept all night on that uncomfortable upholstery in the police station with only a brown blazer with elbow pads for warmth. Furthermore, why do they always say the database machine will take weeks to find a match, when it usually finds one in a few hours? These are the kinds of things I think about.
Nothing is worse than standing at a cold and damp train platform, waiting for a train that has already missed it’s scheduled arrival time. Not knowing when you’re getting home. Freezing your ears and digits off. And pissed that if you had left work just a little sooner, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. The only solace you have is that you can purchase these earmuffs that wrap around the back of your head. Which are great not because they are incredible ear insulators or that they keep your hairdo intact, but because they make you look all sci-fi like Lando’s bald assistant. (his name was Lobot.) Almost as cool as bluetooth earpieces!
I’m OCD when it comes to the tidiness of my computer. Though I have no problem getting home from work and immediately tossing my jeans across the room, when it comes to my computer, I’m a neat freak. I keep my desktop clear of any icons. I uncontrollably hit the “clean up” function in all of my folders to align icons to a grid. Always quick to get rid of unwanted crap. Keeping my machine lean is important to me. But nowhere is my cyber-compulsion more apparent than when I’m waiting for an email. My inbox has like, one email in it. I process messages as soon as they arrive. Furthermore, I’ll hit that Check Mail button several times a minute, especially when waiting for an important email. Which is great because this way, instead of getting that important mail, you get all of your spam as soon as it comes in! One of these days I’m going to start to believe that I really need penis enlargement surgery.
Sometimes I think Cartman had the right idea when he couldn’t handle waiting for the Nintendo Wii. He had Butters freeze him. To be reanimated when the Wii came out. It kinda worked.
Huh?
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I’ve been a bar soap man all of my life. I was a briefs man until college but that’s neither here nor there. I never could understand body washes. Something was missing. Then I was turned on to the loofah. I’d made fun of loofahs in the past, but I was feeling saucy at the time and figured I’d give the whole thing a whirl. Seemed like the appropriate moment. Shit, I’ll try anything once. So I made the trek to Target, picked out the manliest black loofah I could find, some nice tea tree body wash, and began exfoliating like it was my business.
That was nearly two months ago. But my loofah hasn’t aged a bit. How do I know when to change my loofah? See… with soap you can watch it slowly melt away until its time to piggyback that nub of nitro onto a new bar. A better analogy may be a toothbrush. At least with a toothbrush you can clearly see the bristles have worn down and its time to replace. My loofah however seems to be made out of some kind of space-aged polymer. I could return this thing tomorrow and get my money back. Full refund. Where does one get information and technical support on loofahs?
I don’t know. I’m thinking about getting one more bottle of body wash, then tossing the thing. Does that sound right? This is too difficult. These loofahs may be too much for me. It may be back to bar soap. Maybe I could send it to Africa or Asia? Apparently, they eat them like vegetables there.
What the hell am I talking about?
Read MoreWhen I was a smoker I’d be forced to get fresh air every 2-3 hours at work. Now I just sit in my cave all day not knowing if its overcast or sunny.
When I was a smoker I’d have something to bitch about with my people outside. Now I ignore them and look weird standing around by myself.
When I was a smoker I’d spend $7-8 every few days on a pack of butts. Now I save.
When I was a smoker I’d have to make room in my pockets for two extra items. Now my pants don’t fit as nice.
When I was a smoker I’d always worry about throat cancer. Now I just worry about colon cancer.
When I was a smoker I was one of the cool kids. Now I’m one of the L7 squares.
When I was a smoker I’d always smell like cigarettes. Now I always smell like salami.
When I was a smoker all it took was a few drags and the stress would melt away. Now I take sleeping pills that don’t work and pull out my hair.
When I was a smoker I appeared to be fit. Now I eat anything that isn’t nailed down to compensate and look like a squash while doing it.
When I was a smoker I had something to do when I got off the train, finished eating, or got to the end of my tea. Now I just… do nothing.
• When I was a smoker I was unhealthy and disgusting and I’m glad I quit.
Read MoreNo, I’m not talking about my third favorite satellite. (For those keeping score, Titan and our own moon Luna are 1 and 2 respectively) I’m talking about the over-priced NYC “deli” chain, Europa Cafe. There is one in the lobby of my building. Across from Penn Station on 7th avenue. This place has got to be the worst thing to happen to the food service industry since Krispy Kreme went national. Avoid!
People go in because it looks safe. It’s got the trendy sign and the trendy name. It’s clean. Seems less suspect than the bodega around the corner. Can’t go wrong with that. But there’s one problem. It’s food and service are appalling.The grub is “freshly” made, which in this case means its about a day or two old. It’s bland. No TLC has been put into it. Just regimented creation. Sandwiches are delivered to the front of the store from a mysterious back room as if brought off an assembly line. Pre-made. Like something you’d find in the sneeze-proof case at Starbucks. And the baked goods are so disgusting you can actually see the preservatives perspiring off them. Muffins harder than 50 Cent.
The other day I bought a fruit cup. When I opened that plastic container I nearly vomited from the smell. There was obviously something rotten in there. Once my stomach regained composure, I walked it back. The women took one smell and said, “There’s something wrong here. I can get you another or refund your money.” Just keep the cash lady. How did this “freshly cut” fruit go rotten so quickly? Disgusting. I wouldn’t be surprised if they put the fruit cup back into rotation. Like coleslaw at a diner.
Maybe I’m a naive dude from Jersey, but I can not stand it when people are screaming at me from across the counter at a deli. As if they’re helping you. “WHAT CAN I GET YOU?!?!” “ANYBODY A NEED A ANYTHING?!?!” You know what pal. I’m not ready to order. I’m thinking. Stop yelling in my ear. I’ll let YOU know when I’m ready. If I’m not fast enough for you, you should cut back on your own bitter coffee.
Perhaps it’s the guy yelling, but no matter how slowly and articulate I speak, they hear the order wrong. I wanted a medium tea with honey. I got a large coffee with sugar and milk. Sometimes it’s comical. “Hi. I’d like a cup of tomato florentine soup please.” “I’m sorry sir, we don’t sell the Dodge Durango here.” Huh? There is such chaos at the register… Each cashier is assigned their very own assistant to help speed things along during a rush. All this helper succeeds in doing is causing confusion. Nine out of ten times, she mixes up the orders. On top of that, every time I get back to my desk something has leaked in my bag. The tops of fruit or tea are never put on securely. Thanks for the help!
Why Greg, do you go? Good question. The kicker is that you’re getting Manhattan prices. So I’m paying extra for this garbage. As I said, it is in the lobby of my building. When you’re at work you can be very lazy. And this place is really close. You can’t really fuck up coffee or tea. Somehow they manage that. Sometimes it’s raining. I don’t want to go out in that. Maybe its time to bring a parka to work. I have officially sworn off Europa Cafe.
One more thing edging me towards bitterness.
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