Monthly Archives: December 2006

Makes Me Dizzy

In my life I have been called many things. Mostly justified, I won’t lie to you.

Right now.

But, if the woman I dealt with first thing this morning (do you see a trend? Do ALL psychotic, dirt bags get up early?), I am a liar.

Don’t get me wrong. I lie every day. But, being an admitted liar, I’m sure you don’t believe that. Yet, on many days, it is true. It usually starts early. My day often starts by paraphrasing an oft quoted, yet shitty, line from a movie.

“You had me lying at hello.”

Why, honestly, would I be any other way? I have to smile at people who use my face as a placeholder for the ills of their retched lives. I’ve been blamed because their worldly belongings are in storage. Hey, Mona Bitchalot, I’m not the one who told you to go on an eight month coke and oxy bender with a Yanni cover band. I do understand that participating in such a thing would cause declines in ones lifestyle, but it’s not my fault.

Many times when I lie the person is right. I could do what I’m stating I cannot. Such as I could stay open because I do have the keys and proper entry codes. I just won’t because to be with you when I’m getting paid is torture enough. The thought of having you utter anything but your dying breath when I’m not getting paid is too much for a poor boy like me to bear.

As you can tell, most of my lies are of convenience. If I ever meet you I’m sure I’ll say it’s a pleasure. But, unless you’re buying me beers while sticking twenties in my pockets, it probably isn’t. Yet, many times a day I tell people that. And, so far in my life, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting someone then leaving with a buzz and more money than I came with.

I guess people know I lie because even when I don’t it seems I get accused of it. I’d just finished talking to my boss about cleaning some tenants mess (I won’t frighten you with the details but be aware the unit was rented to a guy known as Smelly Guy) when this woman peeks her head around the corner and asks,

“Do you have anything to eat?” At first I think she’s offering to buy me lunch. Hello! It’s sort of a pleasure to meet you! “I’m starving and I’m starting to get light headed.”

Boy, when disappointment sets in it’s just like another day waking up.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

I figure this is the end of our disappointing conversation and begin to walk away when she says,

“You must have something. Even a snack.”

I stop and blink a few times. Is she saying I’m holding out on her? I look at her and my first instinct is to scream,

‘I am! I’m the mallowmar king and will not share my booty with a peon!’ Before running into the office and hunkering down with my rich and tasty friends. But, I resist that temptation as delicious as it is. I fall back to my standard repetition.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

The woman tsks and digs further into a pit of indignation. “You must not understand me.”

I beg to differ, Ms. Charientism, my understanding couldn’t be clearer. You, a rather obsequious woman who has issues each time you enter our portals, is calling me a liar. That, in and of itself, I will take no umbrage. But about Twinkies? Yeah, even I’m not low enough to lie about a frosty snack cake.

She goes on to explain that she is hungry, damnit, and if she is not the recipient of a tasty morsel posthaste, well, dreadful things will happen. The worst of which seems she’ll continue to talk to me.

“You must have a cookie, some candy, or something in your office.”

I explain that, unlike many of my brethren in this fine and flabby country, I don’t snack much at all. Oh sure, I’ve savored a Pop Tart; allowed myself a Devil Dog respite; even, when I was feeling especially indecorous, slurped a pint of Chunky Monkey through a crazy straw. But, at this place and time, the only things other than office related material in my desk are some notes, a couple of books, and a knife. The later of which is of most interest to me at this juncture.

“I can’t believe you have nothing to eat in your office.”

I stare at this woman for a moment while explaining that, if she were to have spent as much time moving as she had questioning my snack veracity, she would have fulfilled her appetence. It takes her a moment, I assume due to weakness, to realize we have four establishment within view that carry a voluminous array of foodstuff.

“You’re holding out on me.” She says as she begins to stomp away. “If I pass out it’ll be all your fault. I hope you’ll be able to live with yourself.” She ends as she reaches her car where her husband has been dutifully seated since this discussion commenced. She takes one last look at the snack food liar as I smile and say,

“Ma’am, I’m sure you’ll be able to live off what’s still in your teeth from breakfast until you get home.”

Hate Mail Day

You just gotta love Hate Mail Day! As you may be aware, we have a Densa site (http://home.comcast.net/~czell/densa.htm). It gets the most hits and, for some strange reason, is hugely popular in England.

Every once in a while I get an email telling me it’s nice, it’s stupid, voting for entrance in the Densa Hall of Fame (the votes tally up thusly: George Bush – 100% Everyone Else In The World – 0%), just random things.

Today I got a full on hate mail about it. What’s funny is if someone complains about Densa I’m sure they’d end up in the top one percent of the membership. Things seem to work out like that with humor.

From what I can discern, someone anonymously sent her (yes, she used her name so I’m sure it’s a woman) a diploma she doesn’t feel deserving of. I, although responsible for the site, do not make any judgments regarding membership. But, if I did. . .

Here’s her email.


I got sent a copy of a diploma from your buisness and am highly offended by getting such a thing. I don’t know why someone in your organization sent me this but I am not going to join your organisation because I’m not stupid. I’m smart and not stupid enough to fall for such a stupid thing like this. I’m going to complain to the internet for your bad business practices. Your the one who needs a stupid diploma. Remove me from your mailing list right now or I’ll sue your for definition of character!

I usually laugh and toss hate mail away. I’ve only written one other story about a hate mail and respond to very few. They usually fall into a few categories: offended by something they read, offended by something they saw, offended by something they think they saw that they read. Mostly they don’t get the joke and I’ll never take the time to explain it.

But if someone is offended because I made fun of short bus riders (http://www.cafepress.com/boundandgags.14255606), well, I will take the time out of my busy day to explain that, although it is a shame your kids a tard slow, maybe you should have thought things through when you were pregnant and refrained from doing speed balls while drinking vodka shooters out of carnies assholes.

I rarely hear back from people after sending them our form letter. But, because the end of this woman’s letter was especially priceless,  I had to respond thusly:

I am sorry someone sent you something from our comedy site you found offensive. Yes, people have found things offensive on our site (such as: http://home.comcast.net/~czell/henderson.htm and http://home.comcast.net/~czell/sponge.htm and http://home.comcast.net/~czell/kittyp.htm and http://home.comcast.net/~czell/hhh.htm as you can see, this list can go on endlessly) and our response goes something like this: We didn’t force you to visit our site. We didn’t even know you were here. We were passed out drunk next to a handgun and dead hooker when you visited.

But, your complaint is new and fresh (I have a joke that begins with the word ‘unlike’ I will not use. Not because I’m a gentleman but because 1) I’d rather not hear back from you and 2) when I write this story everyone can make up their own joke. We’re interactive with our audience). Yes, I did put the Densa site onto the wonder that is the world wide web. But I have no responsibility if someone sends you a link, diploma, or STD. Only 2/3rds of those items are available through Bound & Gags.

If you’ve developed the third you should seek medical attention (although you are not a fan of our site we do have a doctor on staff who may be able to assist you: http://home.comcast.net/~czell/dralo.htm).

I can see the situation where someone would, anonymously it seems (or, being as bright as you say you are, you would have looked at the email address to uncover the culprit), send you a diploma. It is a possibility they had nefarious intent, but, in my experience as the Dean of Densa, it is mostly done because someone found it funny, thought you would also, so, as happens on the internet, sent it to you. As you can see, we’re not included in that equation at any time.

But maybe they got confused. Maybe they thought you were looking for a new job (http://home.comcast.net/~czell/moroncoapp.htm). Or a university to expand that ginormous brain of yours (http://home.comcast.net/~bundeschwager). Maybe they meant to try something more legal (http://home.comcast.net/~czell/legalstup.htm). Whatever they meant, I’m sure it would be in your best interest to chill out (http://home.comcast.net/~czell/stress.htm). After all, Bound & Gags is just in it for the comedy. If we insult you that’s just a bonus.

If you don’t find it funny, don’t laugh. If you think we’re assholes, don’t patronize us. If you are so offended by humor you had to write an insipid email, tell your friends all about it. Give them a chuckle today. But, trust me, you won’t be our first or most eloquent today.

Chris Zell
Chief Goon
Bound & Gags