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there are two types of people in the world - updated weekdaily

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Why is mommy dressed like your secret friend, daddy?

People who think Halloween is for kids to dress up and have fun

People who think Halloween is for women to dress like hookers

Halloween is one of those magical holidays where men always win, along with Super Bowl Sunday, their birthday, and the day after the in-laws leave.

 

 Halloween is the one day each year where men are instantly transported to Las Vegas, no matter where they are.  That secretary who wears the sweaters covered in cat hair comes into work as “sexy angel”.  The bitchy manager (who knows she’s bitchy) comes in as “sexy devil”.  Waitresses and bartenders are now sexy waitresses and bartenders.  College girls pretty much just wear their underwear and a single accessory (wings, ears, bow tie, something simple).  And you know the saying about how people act differently depending on what they’re wearing?  Yeah.  I can’t wait to see what Sarah Palin has drummed up this year.

And it isn’t just single women that go this way.  Moms see Halloween as that one day of the year that they get to act like the village bicycle, too.  Maybe this is where the process perpetuates itself: little kids get to see their mommy in a very different light on this day, dressed like a shaved cat, flirting with the entire neighborhood, and eventually coming home and slapping daddy around a little bit.  The parents think the kids are face-deep in peanut butter cups (and broccoli from that one crazy neighbor), but no, they’re watching.  Learning.

Men tend to screw this holiday up, in my opinion.  They wear some sort of libido-freezing costume involving a melting face or a loose eyeball.  Be something funny and interesting: don’t piss in the honey pot.

And this year, Halloween is on a Friday.  A FRIDAY.  And I’m still sick.  Have fun for me.

People Who Buy Groceries On Sale

People who buy on-sale groceries, particularly meat

People don’t want to poison their family

My wife and I had lunch over the weekend with one of those couples you get along with exactly 51% of the time.  They’re nice people, but we disagree on SO many things that having a conversation about anything but the safest of topics will turn into some sort of a debate.  This time around, we did pretty well, but they reminded me of one of our legendary debates: that of buying discounted food.

Looking at this issue in a strictly economical sense, what we see is called a “demand shift”

Demand shifts commonly happen when forces outside the normal marketplace are at work.  For example, a demand shift might happen if a shopper was “fucked in the head”.  In this case, a shopper would have a lower demand for quality because they are price conscious.  In other words, this person is willing to send themselves to the hospital to save $0.11 on ground beef that fell on the floor no less than 13 times and has now been mixed with food dye to give it less of that gray, dead meat look.

I drove by the Fresh Market the other day - a pretty good store - and saw a sign that said $5.99/lb. filet.  Now, I didn’t go in to investigate because I’m horribly allergic to grocery shopping, but I wondered: #1 how many people did this sign attract, and #2 filet of what?

I think that if you buy meat on sale and have a family, you should go to prison.  If you buy meat on sale and live alone, well, you can do the math there.

Welcome to TATTOPITW’s Future

Well hello there, intelligent and attractive readers of TATTOPITW.  Notice anything different?  I’ve been upgraded, and I’m “powered” by WordPress, whatever the hell that means.  Whoever came up with the idea to say that definitely owns a toy lightsaber.

As you can see, we’ve got some formatting hitches to work out as I make the transition.  Also, I have a fancy little link area over here to the right where you can earn some real estate if you are a badass.  This list will grow with every friendship I forge.

And now to write today’s TATTOPITW.  Don’t forget to write in and contribute your own.  The best way to get in touch is over twitter or the facebook page.  I’ll put a contact form or email thingy on here soon.  Or you can email ideas at tattopitw dot com.

Oh yeah, I also lost all of your juicy comments on the switch.  My old comment provider says that within a few months they’ll fix it so I can get those comments out.  They’ll be back eventually, but if you have something to say about an older post, go ahead.

Lastly, I’m going to add a ratings widget to these to build a list of the posts that suck the least.  Anyone know of a good WP plugin for this very thing?

Evan

Your Loyalty Costs Less than $2

People who get excited about high-end office supplies

People whose love cannot be bought for $1.24

Another thing I don’t think I’ll understand, in addition to free lunch people at the office, is people who get all excited about killer office supplies, a la, “wow, my last office only had the Bic rollerball, but we’re rollin’ with Pilot V5’s up in here! Check out the glide!”

Every office I’ve ever worked in has these people, and they’re not always the Miltons of the world, either. Oftentimes, I’ll walk into a meeting with some VPs or executives and they’ll be having their chit-chat before the beginning of the meeting with the obligatory, “Did you see the game?”, “How much longer until your bride gets her green card?”, and, “Have you seen the pens they’ve got on the third floor?” People will literally leave their Mont Blanc on the table and seek out these pens upon hearing this. Unfathomable.

There’s one person I work with who illustrates this perfectly. On all other accounts, this guy is perfectly normal: someone you’d hang out with on the weekend, even. But when it comes to office supplies, he isn’t playing.

A few weeks ago, he was telling me about how he had just thrown his “like, 14th pen away this month,” and was just pissed. Then he noticed the pen I had on my desk.

“Where did you get that?” he asks.

“In the supply closet…” I say. He immediately gets up and walks away, presumably to check the closet. He returns with a fistful of crappy pens.

“All they have in there is this bullshit pen I’m using already. Let me just save them the time,” and he throws away no less than 35 pens in one motion of his arm. “I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving again.

About 10 minutes later, he returns, this time with about 6 types of pens, “Ok. These are the pens from every floor. 6 fucking types! Who is the idiot buying this stuff?” He tests each pen to see which ones perform and which don’t. “OK, these two are good. These four suck,” throwing 4 more pens into his quickly-rising pen graveyard. Then he pulls out his camera phone and takes pictures of the two good pens.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Sending these pictures to the dumb bitches who buy this stuff so they know how to do their fucking job. Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”

“umm….I have plans.”

Yeah, true story.

Now I will admit, I do wonder a little bit when I’m working in an office that goes the cheapo route on everything, like when you get fake stick-its and some tape that’s straight out of a Chinese prison sweatshop, called something like “Happy Happy Tape”. From this front, I can understand why companies try to project an image with their office supplies, or at least avoid a bad image. Nobody wants to work in that sad little office with the knock-off supplies, disgusting fabric cubicle walls from the 80’s, and big computer monitors that hum under the stress of their age. Frankly, it’s embarrassing.

I guess companies will just have to find a happy balance here. With the economy in its current state, we might have to pull back on office supply spending, but businesses have to do it responsibly. My brother in law just got an email announcing that the coffee creamer will no longer be supplied by the company. That pissed a lot of people off, but it’s all worth it, because it’ll save the company $352.38 over the next 6 years.

Team Pride vs. School Pride

People who are proud of their school

People who are proud of their school’s team

First, an apology: I’m sorry that I went AWOL yesterday: I have another cold. Apparently, I’ve turned into the boy in a bubble and I get sick every time I’m within 100 feet of a sick person or bird poop or you name it. This sucks. And I’m still sick, but I’m going to man up and write a post today.

Moving right along: are these two different types of people? Yes.

Think of it this way: when you tell people where you went to school, do they say, “oh, [university] is having a great season”, or do they say, “what do you do for a living?” ‘Nuff said.

Let me make my point another way, real quick like:

The first result I get on a Google Images search for Harvard is:

Look at these pansy bitches becoming the leaders of the most powerful nation on earth. Losers.

And a search for “University of Alabama”, first result:

This elephant never forgets how to beat your ass, or if you want fries with that.

Now before you start to bring it, let me explain to you team-lovers why this is.

1) Good schools are bad at sports, with one exception: Duke basketball. Some schools might pop up out of nowhere from time to time and have a good season, but they never stay on top, again minus Duke. Damn outlier.

2) People who went to good schools cheat on their team on Saturdays. Nearly everyone I know who went to a good school who likes sports wore a different shirt on Saturday.

3) I am right.

So the point is this: don’t confuse team pride with school pride. School pride is for doctors, lawyers, senators, and judges. Team pride is for everyone, even if you didn’t go to a school.

Any comments, sukkas?

I just put this bookmarking and whatever thingy up. Please digg the post if you liked it. It’ll let more people like it. Click below and make me famous!

Causing a stink

People who use the restroom on the same floor they work on

People who go to a different floor to do their business

Since yesterday was the most poorly viewed post since the first day of TATTOPITW, I clearly have to raise the bar today.

Do you go to a different floor in your office to take a crap?

People in America (and I’m sure some other places) like to pretend that they don’t poop. Especially women. Now, personally, I know that some women don’t deuce, particularly exceptionally good looking women: it just doesn’t add up and really tarnishes the whole image. But dudes? Come on.

I’m not really going to be able to take a side here because I can see both sides of the issue. There are some people that I work with who I really wish would go to a different building. And then there are other people who hit the stairs, carrying a newspaper, returning a few minutes later. Why you would be so obvious as to bring a newspaper, I can’t understand, especially given that you might only get to read one or two columns - is Dear Abby or yesterday’s sports really worth the embarrassment? Are you really that afraid of being bored in the stall?

Maybe the happy medium here would be a situational awareness about floor selection for when you know something’s cookin’. Don’t lie: you know when it’s going to be a particularly hazardous situation. On these days, maybe that’s the time to take it upstairs, choosing a floor that both spares your beloved co-workers and perhaps brings the pain to a floor of the building you’re not so fond of. On your less Mexican or whisky-fueled days, you can keep it on the same floor and be efficient about it. I can live with that.

55 Never Means 55

People who drive the speed limit (or slower)

People who drive at the natural pace of traffic (or faster)

Social profiling on wheels: the Mustang

I am taking a road trip up to Nashville today, so in honor of that, let’s talk about the 4 classes of people I’m going to be in community with, and the question I’d like to ask each of them:

Questions:
1) To people who drive the speed limit: what the hell?
2) To people who drive slower than the speed limit: what the FRAKK!!??
3) To people who drive at the natural pace: do you want to be my friend?
4) To people who drive faster than the natural pace: you wanna go, bitch?

I think that the speed you drive says a lot about you, particularly if you’re a speed limit driver. I think it says, “I took a sedative”, “I’m high”, or “I’m depressed, old, or old and depressed”. If you’re a fast driver, it says “I’m a jerk”, which I often am. Sorry. If you’re a driver who goes with the flow, that says you’re a sensible and sophisticated person who probably has problems somewhere else in your life, but you don’t let those affect your driving. Well done.

So there was an admission there: I can be the fast driver guy sometimes. I have this working against me: I like cars. Not in the sense that I talk about cars with people, which is a whole other post, entirely; I just think that fast cars are badass and I love that feeling of going fast. I drive a car that is somewhat fast. Not like some sort of a race car or anything, but it gets the job done and I have fun doing it. Hence, I am a jerk (and poor). Again, sorry.

So, back to other people: the exceptionally slow drivers are the ones I get the most out of in life. If you’re like me, when you’re on a road trip, you’re paying some base-level of attention while driving and can remember cars that you’ve passed, which is especially fun when you’ve stopped for gas or a quick meal and then re-pass a car that you passed an hour ago. The re-pass is the highest achievement in road humiliation and it always puts a huge smile on my face. Typically the cars I re-pass are brightly-colored minivans (red, green, some sort of aqua/jade looking color), piloted by a 260 lb. woman with short hair and 1/4” thick glasses. And yes, I do have to pass her on the right. Both times.

Wish me luck on the trip today.

You never know when you're going to need to bust a move

People who pull into parking spaces

People who back into parking spaces

If shit goes down, advantage Lexus.

Ok, so this is the third post that I have written from pictures I took without moving more than 11 feet, so let me know if this is getting old (first, second). Or maybe I’ll make this some sort of quest: how many posts can I write from pictures I take without moving more than 11 feet? A lot, so buckle up, bitches.

In Atlanta, we have the highest population of people who back into parking spaces, with the exception of Hong Kong, who is cheating because all of those damn rickshaws always back in and throw off the statistics.

Source: Me

Atlanta does, however, dominate the rest of the engine-powered cities, with Los Angeles coming in second. A deeper look into this reveals that both Atlanta and Los Angeles have the highest populations of gangstas with Bentleys, Ferraris, Porsches, and Chrysler 300Ms, which have a 100% back-in participation rate. In New York, where this population also exists, there are no parking spaces. Parallel parking is not factored into this study. Additionally, most New Yorkers with cars don’t park themselves, and professional parkers such as hotel bellmen and valets are exempt in the study.

The study also revealed that females in Atlanta will disregard their genetic parking setbacks and attempt back-ins as well. These usually took several attempts and an average of 2.6 calls to State Farm Insurance before the car was successfully in the spot and damage to other vehicles, pets, and government property was financed. In most other cities in the study, women were on their way to a workplace, unwilling to make the significant time investment of backing into a parking space, which was not an issue in Buckhead neighborhood of Atlanta where much of the study’s data were gathered and women are responsible for economic stimulus through investment in Juicy Couture as opposed to earning.

The study concludes that, while the causality of backing in is a mix of many factors, the primary character trait of people who back in is that they are assholes.

A world free of rabbis and priests

People who tell jokes from memory

Funny people

People who tell jokes are morons. If I hear another recited joke, especially if it’s one I’ve heard more than 3 times before, I am going to projectile vomit on the person telling the joke and then put the video on youTube.

Now, I’m not saying that the jokes themselves aren’t sometimes cute or entertaining. Comedians make a living re-telling jokes, but at least they wrote them in the first place, which is evident when you watch them perform: their personality is the joke and the words just convey this person’s [sometimes] brilliantly twisted view of the world. But people that read jokes in books or the Internet should be sent to whatever the modern equivalent of Australia’s leper colonies are. Yes, some of these jokes were funny back when How to Win Toddlers and Influence Morons was in its first publishing, but the people who tell them today make me want to go lava diving.

The funniest people that I know are funny because they give you a window into how they view the world, and it doesn’t involve rabbis, Moses, Jesus, black people, or hispanics. Ok, sometimes it does. But it’s not on purpose: there would be an actual rabbi in the story, not a hypothetical rabbi that runs around in his Israeli sports car that not only stops on a dime, but picks it up. Funny people often hear jokes they think are funny, and fail miserably trying to re-tell them, either because they can’t remember them, or they’re more aware of how awkward joke telling is, which appropriately ruins the atmosphere.

I love that we live in a special time where, if we’re unable to laugh with you, we feel comfortable living at you. So basically, if you’re a joke teller, know that we’re laughing at you later, when we’ve finished pretending to laugh at your joke and you’ve walked to the next group of people to re-tell the joke, having just felt validated by our feigned enthusiasm. The cycle will then repeat, and it’s even that much funnier, knowing that more and more people are going to go “ha ha, that’s great”, and then turn around to their friends, bug their eyes out, and make some sort of a “SAVE ME!!!” gesture.

I leave you with some actual examples of funny:

The Onion

Stuff White People Like

The Show with Ze Frank (no longer running)

The Fail Blog

The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs (the gig is up here, too)

People Who Drive In The Left Lane

People who are left-lane cruisers on the interstate

People who know what day of the week it is

If you carpool and save the planet, you get the best lane on the interstate. It you are an idiot, you get the next best lane. What the hell is that? I am so sick of people who cruise the left lane of an 8-lane interstate going 52 miles per hour, I might just cry. Every weekend, I make a short trip to go play golf. And every weekend I have to drive up I-85 with all of the short bus escapees. It is a part of my life. I like to drive at a healthy pace on the interstate, so this is very frustrating. I feel like a person with prosthetic arms who loves potato chips.

What I want to understand is why the left lane? Why not the right lane? Why not the center lane? Atlanta has a veritable lane buffet laid out for these people who should wear football helmets to walk down a sidewalk, but it’s always the left lane.

On top of that, most left-laners are women on their cell phones, which have approximately the same lethality as a patriot missile. The outcome of honking your horn at these guards of vehicular progress is that your car makes more noise. That’s pretty much it. These women have a level of awareness that rivals a goldfish with cataracts and have a driving pattern that would lead you to believe that the steering wheel has been replaced with buttons that say “left” and “right”, which they press once every 1/4 mile, and the cruise control has been set to “keep ‘em guessing” mode, whereby the car speeds up to 80 mph every 3.5 minutes before decelerating back down to approximately 52 mph as it approaches another car going 52 mph, creating a moving, impenetrable barrier of stupidity.

But perhaps there is a brilliance about these ladies’ desire to murder fellow drivers. The near-death experiences on the interstate are rarely directly with the minivan carrying the alcoholic housewife, but are carried out by her minions of death, who are people in zippy little cars who become adrenalized enough by her terrible driving to drive terribly themselves, passing her at 100 mph in the emergency lane before having to swerve back to avoid a motorcycle guy taking a weed break on the side of the highway. Now that’s killing power!

Or maybe they’re just idiots.

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