"When the device was switched on, the patient reported being almost instantly aroused. She described it as 'really excellent foreplay'."

That's it, we're doomed.

A quote from my friend Tiffany: "I saw a picture of the Jacksons and Tito wasn't in it. I think they used him for parts."

Doesn't he look like he just got done shouting "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for those meddling kids!"?

More fictional adventures of Ted the Henchman™:

Not feeling too hot these days, so just some highlights from the last few days at the SPECTOR® retail outlet:

* A man came into the store the other day with facial hair the likes of which I'd never even imagined. It was a neck beard. Imagine if Lincoln had said, "I like the shape of my facial hair, but it's just too high on my face..." This man had shaved his entire face, but let a small strip grow on his neck, almost like he was wearing a fake beard to a party and let it slip down to his neck after too many drinks. It was just creepy-looking.

* On Monday, the store overlord wanted me to come in at 8 AM to watch a 15-minute program on new promotions at the store, which was being transmitted over the satellite. I asked him if he would tape it, but he refused. This meant I would have to drive my usual commute (plus rush-hour delays), get to the store early, watch 15 minutes of porn-quality acting without the sex, then drive home (in rush hour traffic again), and come back to the store at 10 for my usual shift. Somewhere during the weekend, I just decided this wasn't going to happen, and abused my snooze button vigorously. I watched the tape, which the overlord made anyway, during my usual shift, and it was nothing that couldn't have been related to me in bullet points in under a minute.

* In spite of my failure to show up for the video, that very day (my third day at the place) the overlord still took me aside to talk to me about how I might be store overlord material and that I should keep that in mind. This depressed me on a number of levels.

* I have to be at work at 6:45 AM the day after Thanksgiving. Whee...

* Today I went to get lunch at a local fast-food place and was forced to listen to the banal secular music they piped in to the dining area. Aren't there laws against that?

* I really need new shoes. My feet are killing me. Actually, what I need is somewhere to sit now and then while I'm at the store, but I'm not at that stage yet where I know what I can get away with with the manager. However, considering the fact that I'm already pegged as an overlord-in-waiting, maybe I'm overthinking this...

* I know there are other things I wanted to mention, but I have a headache and it's hard to think. Maybe later.

© 2003 Ted the Henchman.

"Six Feet Under actress Rachel Griffiths has given birth to her first child with husband Andrew Taylor, a baby boy named Banjo Patrick Taylor."

Do you think the kids will... pick on him? (Boo, hiss...)

"I hear the negotiations with Bill are not going well. He got a raw deal the first time around: He was paid per word, and all he usually said was 'Ack!' and 'Thppt!'"

A friend of mine informs me that she saw an ad with the disclaimer "If you're not completely satisfied, you get your monkey back!"

Damn, I wish I'd thought of that.

Time to check in with Ted the Henchman™:

The past few days at SPECTOR® have been interesting, to say the least. I've been working in one of their retail outlets, which is about as far away as where I had imagined myself at this point in my life as to have lapped my expectations.

Two things happened that are of note. The first was a shoplifter running off with a $200 display item, very brazenly. He and his (from what I could tell) son lurked in the store for upwards of an hour, acting very casually. The son spoke exactly like Boomhauer from King of the Hill, which I found disturbing. Every once in a while, I would ask him a question just to hear him mumble an incoherent answer.

Anyway, after leaving the store and then coming back, the father (who resembled a short biker-type, complete with bushy mustache) asked to use the phone. At this point, he'd been around so much that I regarded him with about as much suspicion as a little old lady. I let him use the phone, and then turned briefly to attend to some returned product. Then I heard some commotion and the door beep. Turning around, he was gone, with our phone. The managing henchman, who had been idling himself in the corner of the store, took off after him when I pointed out the missing phone. What we didn't notice was that he had also taken a small display portable DVD player (which had been playing the same obnoxious company promos all day, so I was almost glad it was gone), at least not until after my manager had left. Pursuit is, apparently, against company policy, but hey, it was our phone, dammit.

When my manager returned (with the phone, I might add), I pointed out the stolen player, and he took off again, leaving me in the store with a bunch of customers who wanted to do things I still had no idea how to help them with. He returned shortly, empty-handed, leaving us to go over our various security lapses ad infinitum. Whee.

The other notable thing that happened was that I was supposed to meet with the managing henchman at another, closer store in a better part of town for a possible transfer. He told me to meet him on Saturday "in the afternoon." I had to go to a pointless company meeting bright and early that day (another lovely addition to my life of late), but after that, I returned home, ate something, and fell asleep. I awoke when a friend called me to ask me about our plans for that night, but realized it was pushing four PM. I rushed to head in, but by the time I made it there, he had gone. I hope I haven't just screwed the pooch on a possible transfer... He wasn't in today, so it remains to be seen...

I could go on, but I have to be in tomorrow at eight AM for another stupid meeting. And some people wonder why I don't want to return to retail...

© 2003 Ted the Henchman.

As much as I hate spam, sometimes I get some that just makes me laugh. Case in point: "Chat with bored housewives!" Just imagine:

MrsJohnson: Sigh.
Me: Hey, sexy.
MrsJohnson: whatever...

And so on. Have your credit card ready!

Unemployed? Your worries are over!

"Whenever I don't feel so good, I always remind myself of the Siamese twin whose brother is gay, whose boyfriend is coming over, and they share the same asshole."
-- Buddy Hackett.

"MTV is to music what KFC is to chicken."
-- Lewis Black

It snowed here yesterday, and the city effectively shut down. Apparently power was down in a few spots, but for most (like myself, for instance), it just meant an inch or two of snow on the car. Hardly crisis circumstances. But then, I come from the Midwest, where a foot of snow is just the beginning.

So we had snow. I could deal with it, I swear, at least until my mother called and told me it was 70 degrees that day back in Iowa. Dammit. Why'd I move here again?

Ted the Henchman™ checks in again:

Today was my first day at SPECTOR®, and it went far smoother than any of my other experiences with the company thus far, which is both a shock and a relief. The neighborhood seems less threatening now, perhaps because I've had a chance to meet a little of the residents. Hardly middle-class mall-folk, thank God, and mostly good people.

The head henchman, Largo, at my location seems like a nice fellow, although he (and pretty much all of my coworkers) mainly serve to remind me how much I want to get out of henching. When I was henchman interning back in high school, I remember thinking how sad some of the older men who were still there were, and now, if I'm not careful, I'll become one of them.

The learning curve was fairly steep, but it's hardly rocket science. Move this there, help someone find that, try to remember what keys to punch. Tomorrow I'm to learn about satellites, and that seems more complicated, but mostly it's just remembering different figures, and that will likely come with habit.

Fortunately for me, Largo decided to forgo the usual, idiotic SPECTOR-dictated training mode and just let me learn as I went along. This was a relief, as the packet I was working from yesterday reminded me of the kind of busy work teachers used to give me in grade school when they wanted to sneak out for a smoke. I'm sure that I could learn something from it, but it would never be as useful or memorable as actual, real-world experience. However, this meant a lot of looking like an idiot when someone asked me a question I did not know. I can't count the number of times I said "It's my first day" today.

Still, even though things aren't as bad as they first seemed, I'm still steaming about the misleading and rushed hiring process I was put through. I still don't have solid facts on a lot of things about this job, and it's frustrating in more ways than I care to count. I'm going to write a letter, even if it costs me this stupid job.

© 2003 Ted the Henchman.

So you still haven't seen the Paris Hilton tape, but you want to be able to chip in on watercooler conversations? Well, inexplicably, someone went to the trouble of transcribing it for you. You're welcome.

From the Things-You-Learn-From-Randomly-Perusing-the-IMDB Dept.:Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane was supposed to be on one of the flights hijacked on Sept. 11th.

Making "Michael Jackson is scary looking" jokes is pretty clichéd, so I won't bother. But let me ask you this: To whom is the "Constantly Surprised" look appealing?

"Consider Charles Schulz. Look where he is today."

(Anyone seen a bigger version?)

I just got back from finishing up the next issue of the magazine. Should be out next month. We had to cram these last few days because Shannon's leaving in about three hours to go to San Francisco.

Me sleepy.

Another post from Ted the Henchman™:

If the first day at SPECTOR is any indication, this is going to end badly. The managing henchman didn't bother to show up. This left a fellow henchman, who wasn't wearing a name tag or indeed any sort of indication that he worked there other than the fact that he occasionally walked behind the counter, to attempt to run me through some of the required computerized tests, though not before he informed me that I was not full-time nor paid on commission, as Blofeld had told me. Disheartened at the news, I was still able to guess at two of the tests well enough to pass, but a third had too much proprietary company jargon that I wasn't able to eek by on guesses.

After that, I was supposed to watch a training video, but there wasn't actually one on the premises. Offered a choice of taking an indefinite break at a nearby restaurant until my fellow henchman could go get it or picking it up myself, I opted for the latter, since I wanted to escape from this dungeon of a place as soon as possible.

The video was one of your typical cheesy corporate training videos, featuring actual employees, which meant that the acting was about on the same level as porn. I kept expecting the participants to whip off their clothes and start going at it, but, sadly, this was not to be. Instead, they droned on about obnoxious selling techniques and company slogans that made me want to slap them.

The video was part of a packet of training materials meant to be run through with the supervising henchman guy, but since he didn't bother to show, it meant that, in essence, I was supposed to train myself. The sad thing is, I probably could do this and wind up with about the same training as I will likely end up with anyway. But my willingness to entertain whims like that was running low owing to the three or four hours of sleep I'd managed to get the night before.

The store itself is located in a depressing part of town, across from a church and a Thai food restaurant. I was told not to park in back, as there was a high car would get vandalized there. This means that this job could very well end up costing me money. And the inside of the store isn't much better than the surrounding neighborhood. The back office doesn't appear to have been cleaned since before the first Bush administration. There are Polaroids of inexplicably happy shoplifters stuck to the wall, just above the TV where I watched my training porn.

The advantage of working a shit job, however, is that it lights a fire under my ass to look for decent work, or at least work located in a less depressing area. It remains to be seen which will happen first: Will I get fed up, or will I find a better gig?

I suppose there's a third option: I could stick around in the hopes of starring in some training porn...

© 2003 Ted the Henchman.

Something in me just finds this announcement (posted on MusicTap) incredibly sad: For those that are anxiously awaiting the Justin Timberlake DVD, Live in London [...] this DVD will contain a bonus audio CD that has "I'm Lovin' It" that is heard on the McDonald's brand campaign and will not be made available anywhere else.

I started a new job recently, but one of the provisions of my hire is that I am not allowed to communicate in any official regard about the company, particularly online. While I find this particularly constraining, I understand the legal reasons for doing so. Unfortunately, I am now left with a considerable amount of pent-up energy that I would normally direct toward griping about my situation. Since the rest of my life is relatively uneventful at the moment, I am left with nothing to vent about, except the boneheaded actions of the government, and Lord knows we don't need another jackass pundit ranting about that.

And so I plan to direct this energy into a new, ongoing creation I have had in mind for some time now: the episodic story of Ted, a low-level hechman in the globe-spanning espionage organization known as (ahem) SPECTOR. Remember, this is entirely FICTION. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or situations is ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL. I swear. I'm just pulling this out of my head.

And now, episode one: Paperwork.

I have rarely been as confused as I have been the past week during my courtship with SPECTOR. The first inklings I had of working there came when I stopped by a local branch (Didn't know espionage organizations had those? Well, of course they do.) to purchase some electronics equipment. The "Now Hiring" sign was on full display, but clearly said it was for holiday help only. (Spy organizations always ramp up activity during the holidays. I don't know why.) However, the henchman I delt with mentioned that another employee had recently left this branch, and so a more permanent henchman position was opening. I let this ferment for a while, and slowly became comfortable with the idea, so I returned for an application. This was returned the next day and given directly to the managing henchman, who promptly lost it.

I found that out when I followed up with the managing henchman, who swore it had been passed on to the district office. After some digging, I found the district office's phone number and called to inquire about the status of everything, figuring that having someone higher up knowing my name might be beneficial. They had no idea I had applied and could find no record of it. Undaunted, I applied again, this time online. This, too, apparently never made it in.

Still undaunted, I tried a third time, and was handed off to another local managing henchman, Blofeld, for vetting. Blofeld has seemed either overwhelmed or, ahem, not on top of things every time I delt with him. Deadlines were continually missed. Phone calls unreturned. Following up in person, he had clearly not looked at my application in any detail and continually misprounounced my previous employer (SMERCH), even after I discreetly corrected him on it.

Most frighteningly, however, Blofeld had also misjudged my level of experience, choosing to place me in a distant office in the lowest henchman position possible, a position requiring little more intelligence than your average monkey. When I pointed out some more pertinent experience to him, he brightened up and suggested a position at a branch no more than 10 blocks from my house. This cheered me up considerably.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have forgotten all of this conversation immediately. Since our next conversation consisted of being offered a position at the distant location again, which he attributed to thinking that I lived near there. Being the generous sort that I am, I would never tack it up to incompetence. I am sure he was just swamped.

I held my tongue, but I wanted to reply that the address is right there on the second line of the application, right next to the phone number that he must have used to call me, and it clearly shows that I reside not five blocks from where he was calling. Instead, I politely asked if he would please try to place me at a closer location.

After a few days of sweating, he called me back and said that another position had opened up at a different, though closer location. This seemed like good news to me until he mentioned that the reason it had opened up is that one of the location's henchmen had been hit by a car driven by a rival agent who had gotten behind the wheel after too many martinis. This left me feeling ambivalent, but I accepted the position anyway, since there was little I could do.

Since then, I made a trip to the district office to fill out paperwork (who knew that espionage agencies had so many forms?) alongside another new hire with a breathing problem, while listening to frightening pop country on the office radio.

The truly disturbing thing (besides the drunk driver aspect, I admit) is that I know little or nothing about the particulars of my position yet. How many hours do I work? Am I seasonal? What should I wear? Blofeld never told me. I have a training session in, oh, about 6 hours, but I have no idea how long it will take, or, indeed, whether I will be paid for it. This all seems terribly slap-dash to me, but perhaps things will improve. And, if nothing else, at least I'm not working at the mall.

©2003 Ted the Henchman.

If my sources are correct, today is Wookiee Life Day.

"Although the woman, 'Jane', conceived them naturally with her husband, tests to see if she could donate a kidney suggested that somehow she had given birth to somebody else's children."

So this is what happened to Roy. Huh.

"Hi, I'm Ted. Fly me."

Japanese woman, 23, enjoys talking over coffee, nice guys, and crapping in the freezer.

I'm breaking out. Of course. My social life is finally something besides acting like I'm waiting for someone at a bar, and now I'm embarrassed to be seen in public because it looks like I'm back in junior high. Then again, it could just be stress, which is ironic, don'tcha think?

It probably doesn't help that we get about ten minutes of daylight these days. It's hard to tell whether that's having an effect on my mood. I could just be grumpy independent of the weather, but I bet that I would be in a better mood if the sun were out. One thing I do know for sure, my sole plant, which I bought to add some life to the place, is dying. Perfect.

On the plus side, the evil bastard cold/flu that has been fighting for control of my brain for the past two weeks appears to be fading. It has succeeded in completely wrecking any semblance I had of a schedule, which is frustrating, but inevitable, I suppose. I should look on the bright side, though, maybe this is a clean slate and now I can start over unencumbered. Yeah, sure.

Anyway, I'm feeling groggy and congested, so maybe I should hit the sack. Probably. But what the hell do I know?

I think I've identified a trend in my life, which I know is not unique to me, but still, I ain't amused: See, I seem to go through droughts in various aspects of life (business, social, educational, and so on down to the miniscule matters like the frequency of magazines arriving in the mail; hell, even this blog is a good example...) only to be greeted with a flood of alternatives. I am fully aware of the phrase "when it rains it pours," but I wonder if someone has coined a law (a la Murphy's) to describe this phenomenon...

Sometimes you just can't make this stuff up:

Get Paid to Write a QUICK How To or info Article

Get Paid to write a how to article or information piece.

My first submission? Capitalization rules...

Currently seeking one to two page how to articles in the following subjects: Also these articles are to provide a very basic overview of the subjects. Not intended to to teach everything about the subject.

Note: I did not edit this job listing in any way... Regardless, I am going to assume that he does not want articles on "Also these articles are to provide a very basic overview of the subjects." or "Not intended to to teach everything about the subject." Maybe he'd like one on proper sentence structure.

These articles should be written by you and Copy Write FREE.

That should be easy enough, since I have no idea what "Copy Write" is. Some sort of program? Computer virus maybe?

We will pay a garneted $3.00 for each article accepted and up to $5.00 for well written ones.

Whoa. Slow down there, Moneybags. A whole three to five dollars???

Maybe since it's "garneted" money, it's worth more than face value. Money encrusted with jewels would be kind of cool.

Hurry as this is a limited quick opportunity to make some quick cash.. Payment can be maid via Papal, or Cash.

How does one "maid" payment anyway? Is that like when you get a mint on your pillow? And how exactly do I get the money from the Pope?

:::::::::::::TOPICS:::::::::::::

[snip]

How to choose the right lap top

One belonging to someone who wouldn't mind you sitting on it? Santa maybe?

I hate to be a grammar bastard, but this just struck me as absurd...

Speaking of writing, I got an e-mail from someone who stumbled across an old column of mine on making out and had some very nice things to say. Going back to the piece itself, I was fairly unimpressed with it as a whole, save this one line, at the very, very end (it was part of the bio that appears after every column): "The opinions contained within this column are in no way, shape or form those of Bob Packwood or Grand Funk Railroad."

That gave me a laugh. The rest of the column, not so much. Now, sometimes, I can read something I've done a while back and get a good laugh out of it. (This column, for example, is probably my all-time favorite, partially because I just started writing it without any idea how it would end. It hit me and made me laugh so hard I choked. But I digress...) I suppose that's what I miss most about having a weekly outlet... That potential for surprise is amped up when you are under pressure to perform on a schedule and for an audience. I'm looking for ways to get back to that now, even though I know it's a drain on other aspects of my life. But so what? I think the benefits outweigh the downsides. I think.

Not happening as soon as I'd like, but it will, I'm certain.

More as it develops.