TATTOPITW
there are two types of people in the world – sometimes updated weekdaily

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I have won the Rwandan lottery 18 times this year

People who are drawn in to trash emails

Those people’s children

I think I’m starting to see a seasonality to chain emails / SPAM / generally ridiculous nonsense.  Lately, the volume has gone up dramatically vs. the summer, and while I’m not sure why this is, if anyone out there needs Viagra, business cards, or a device that will make your penis bigger than a telephone booth, my inbox seems to be the place to go.

One wonders if these emails really work.  I really can’t imagine ordering pharmaceuticals from some company who can’t even spell correctly in their email to me.  I can’t imagine a sweet little mother of 3 sitting down to her computer and saying, “you know, some horny sluts being nasty would really hit the spot right now.  The Petersons’ Williams Sonoma registry is just going to have to wait.”

But they must work.  These people are undoubtedly spending some money to send this stuff out, so they’re obviously in it for some sort of profit.  If it wasn’t working, it would end, right?

One of my all-time favorite scams is this thing that’s been going on for a while where you’ve either won the lottery or some African royalty needs to launder some money through the US and you’re going to get to keep a cut.  You know, they go sort of like this:

I am prince of Zimbabwe.  My family have many too many money and need urgent to give many money to someone else.  We have lottery that you not enter, but still win!  Miracle Happy!

Seriously?  But the email goes on to ask for bank information, addresses, etc.  And it works, apparently.  They had something on Dateline or one of those other alarmist news shows (”Is your refrigerator killing you? Find out after our segment on marshmallow-related deaths and a montage of plane crashes, tonight at 9″) that was telling people about these scams and to not give their bank information to anyone.  

So, tell me.  Who has nibbled on the fruit of SPAM?  Anyone?  You can fess up here anonymously.  Did you buy some orange tic-tacs with “Cialis” written delicately in toxic ink?  Did you get to keep the million?  Are you happy with the new size of your … you know?

Cat people…ick.

Cat People

People who do not scare me in some fundamental way

Yesterday, I got an email from a friend that was meant to brighten my day.  These pictures of a cat show definitely did that, but I’m finding, lately, that pictures like these are a bit like pharmaceutical drugs.  A pill might lower your cholesterol, but it may also induce vomiting, blindness, suicidal tendencies, and leprosy.  Pictures like these do brighten my day, but they simultaneously make me wonder if all people are just screwed in the head.  It’s a mixed blessing.

Where’s that right hand?  Was that shirt dug out of an elephant’s butt? [insert cat's thoughts here] CAPTION OVERLOAD!!!!

So obviously, this email got me thinking about cat people in general.  They are pretty simple to describe:

• Female
• BMI at least 20% above ideal
• Wear strange clothing and gold jewelry
• Single
• Have a computer password like “pussypaws” or something to that effect

OK, I’m busted: I’m just describing the picture.  Of course there are exceptions.  There are attractive girls who own cats (WTF?).  There are men who own cats (well, not men, but humans with man parts).  There are even people who are capable of communicating with other people who own cats.  But most of the cat owners fit the above description.

A girl I work with was about a fraction of a misfired neuron from adopting a blind cat.  She is a very nice girl, she is very pretty, and has a great personality, but for some reason this one chromosome has flipped around and she likes cats.  She ended up not getting the cat (who would need eyedrops, several times daily) because the cat maintenance interfered with her social life.  Yes, I used the words cat and social life in the same sentence.  Someone, if you have any idea of how I can have an intervention, please tell me and I’ll do whatever I can to get this fish back into the ocean.

How to increase your net worth 80% today

People who withdraw $10 and pay a $3 ATM fee

People who make massive “rob me” withdraws but get the better end of the deal

Now I realize that there aren’t a slew of economics majors out there, but this one is a pretty easy win, unless you’re scared of being robbed by that 83 year old woman behind you in line.

When you go to the ATM (please don’t ever say “the ATM machine”), you are a moron if you withdraw a small amount of money at an out-of-network machine.  On that note, why in the hell do we put up with out-of-network machines?  This concept of charging people money to get their money is totally absurd, and I think I’m going to kick the next banker I see square in the berries as a result of this micro-rage I have at the moment.

Anyhow, someone gave me this idea last week while we were talking about other, less important things.  Since that talk, I’ve been paying more attention to the amount that people are taking out of ATMs (yes, to an outside observer, it would appear I was planning a robbery), and it’s mind-blowing.  Either 90% of Atlanta has the net worth of your average Rwandan or they’re a few Skittles short of a rainbow, but in either case I can’t understand why someone would pay a 30% fee to re-own money that is already theirs.  I saw one guy go to the ATM 3 times on a single night last week.  Can someone please explain that to me?

Repeat elevator button pushers = humankind

People who hit the elevator button additional times

People who have no arms, no legs, no nose, or any other suitable protrusion, and are in a coma

So this idea has been sent to me from a number of people and stated in a number of different ways, but the gist of it is that people are pissed off when people either hit the elevator button more than once or when they come up and hit the button after someone else has already hit it.

But here’s the problem, folks: you’re all hypocrites.

There is not a single human being on earth who has been exposed to an elevator and not hit the elevator button after it’s already lit up.  Nobody.  You could go pick up a newborn aboriginal, and if there was a way to reach it, he would sit there rapping on the button with his baby boomerang, saying, “how long is this piece of junk going to take?”.  And then crap his loincloth.

This happens because human beings are not inately capable of trust or patience.  If someone else has pushed the button, we cannot trust that person to be as highly intelligent as us: they must not be capable of a proper button press.  This complicated procedure should only be carried out by trained and experienced professionals.  Second, we lack the patience to wait 4 seconds for an elevator to respond.  We are man, this is machine.  We are the superior race, therefore we demand service.

When I took the elevator up to the 6th floor at work (the top floor) this morning, the elevator interacted with 7 people.  First floor, 5 people get on.  The first three people push 3, 5, and 6.  The next two re-push 3 and then 6.  The first person, standing closest to the left bank of buttons, begins jamming “door close”.

Nobody talks.

Ding!  We’re on 3.  Two people exit.  The right-bank button operator begins hitting “door close”, but a hand shoots into the opening, opening the doors.  In a socially-awkward recovery, the man starts now hitting “door open” (the doors are already opening, but thanks for the help).  5 is hit…again…by the new passenger.

Ding! We’re on 5.  Two more exit.  One more person gets on.  My fellow passenger says “this one’s going up”, which is actually two statements in one: 1) “If you’re meaning to go down, this elevator is not for you”, and 2) “If you’re riding the elevator up one floor, fuck you.”

New passenger: “Oh, no.  I’m going up, but thanks.”  6 pushed, then door close pushed.  A double.

We get up to 6, everyone disembarks, and it’s over.

So thanks for the idea, but try to give me two types of people next time.  What’s next, “Guys who look at porn and guys who don’t?”

You can do better.

There is a reason your shirt has that many buttons

People who button their shirt to the correct level

People who unbutton the top 2-4 buttons of their dress shirt

Let me start off by saying this: there are few exceptions to the hard and fast rule of buttoning a shirt up to the penultimate button.  These exceptions are known as “hot women”.  No others exist.

Disapproved:

Approved:

Approved:

I wonder how long Google Analytics will tell me how long you hover on that image…

Anyhow, I am pretty fortunate to live in a city where the guys are pretty conservative with their buttoned shirts.  Most people understand that these buttons were invented for the specific reason of vomit-in-mouth prevention, and they work almost flawlessly when used properly.  But occasionally, guys will open the neck hatch a few more clicks, a practice I do not appreciate one bit.  In and around Atlanta, this usually happens in the spring and fall: used as a substitute technique to pissing on trees during our prime cougar hunting months.  But unless your name is Emilio, there is no excuse for this.

I am going to start carrying flypaper around and pay/dare drunk college kids to assault these people’s chest hair.  I’m thinking this can be done somewhere in the $20 – $50 range, which gives me a very high entertainment ROI.  I haven’t figured out what to do about the guys who shave their chest, but maybe their own brain is the punishment they are forced to live with their whole lives, and that might be enough.

In writing this, I have found that blog articles that people might classify as “not safe for work” or NSFW, might also be considered NSFGW, or “not safe for Great Wraps”, which is where I’m sitting as people are troubling themselves to figure out why I’m searching the internet for both men with exposed chests and women with enormous cleavage.  Maybe I’m just an awkwardness vampire, feeding on nervous tension rather than blood.  I’m feeling very strong right now.

Lord, show me a sign

People who have keen awareness of things, in general

People who have zero awareness of things, in general

There are some days that I know exactly what I’m going to write here.  I’m thinking about it on my way to work, when I’m brushing my teeth, when I’m skipping breakfast, etc.  And then there are other days when I really don’t know what to talk about and I hope something will come to me.  I hope that there will be a proverbial sign.

Well, today there was a sign, indeed.  As I walked in to work this morning, one of those gypsy lobby salespeople was setting up shop, with the below sign.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I just started shamelessly taking pictures as she was curiously watching me.  Several pictures.  I made sure to stay there taking enough pictures from enough angles, taking chuckle breaks (yes, I did say “chuckle breaks”), that she would have to surmise something was up.  I love causing this sort of wonder and confusion.  The tension is palpable.

Sorry, folks.  If you were hoping to be a d’bag too, the name’s taken: she’s incorporated.

It’s mornings like these that I’m genuinely happy to be alive.  I love stupid signs not because of the entertainment of the sign itself, but because of the knowledge that someone out there made this sign and is absolutely unaware of what they’ve done.  This type of person is the fruit of America.  Think about it: the crazy lady in the red sweatshirt calling Obama a muslim.  The person who thinks that our climate is changing because of daylight savings (they think we’re losing an hour of sunlight when we change our clocks, no I’m not kidding, click the friggin’ link).  People like this make life worth living.

I leave you with some more handiwork I’ve seen over the last few months:

Not the most helpful directory

Philly Style Italian Ice!  Way to go!  I’m going to go get some Birmingham Style Dim Sum now.

The name wasn’t clear enough, so they added the gray, erect, um…plane?

I don’t know what to say. It was Savannah…they’re into this sort of stuff there.

Pricy.

There is no funny caption for this.  It’s just sort of a stupid place to put your sign…outside of a sandwich shop.

The faster you cross the street, the less likely you are to die

People who cross the street quickly

People who cross the street slowly (on purpose)

I guarantee that this woman is going 8x as fast as the average Atlantan street crosser

Call me crazy, but I have a healthy fear of objects that can kill me very easily.  In the matchup of flesh and bone vs. steel on wheels, I have concluded that I will lose that fight often enough to avoid it altogether.  Yet every day, I come across people who want to singularly challenge traffic by crossing the street at sub-sloth speeds.

It doesn’t help that Georgia law is pedestrian-oriented.  No matter what the circumstances, cars have to stop for pedestrians.  I don’t care if you’re going 50 miles an hour, if someone’s dumb enough to put a foot in that crosswalk, you have to slam the brakes on and save their lives.  If grandma is in an ambulance and Laqueshia wants to cross the street while she’s on her bluetooth headset, hello inheritance! She aint’ going to let no damn ambulance tell her what to do. 

Something I’ve been wondering is where these people are going at one eighth of a mile per hour?  How far can you travel at these speeds before the sun goes down?  I would feel cheated if I had been walking for an hour and could still see my point of origin.

So, what should I do here?  Is it okay to honk at those who enter a battle of will and tell them to get the hell out of the way, or am I supposed to just take it?  I have tried both, with mixed results.  Mostly, I find that honking just slows people down even more, which is a frustrating outcome to which I have no response.  It’s a lot like getting in an argument with Delta customer service: “I’m sorry you feel that way sir – oops! somehow all of your frequent flyer miles disappeared and all of the rates have doubled on your flight.  I do have an engine-mounted seat next to the broken lavatory door available, though.”

How do we fix this problem plaguing our nation?

Replacing the toilet paper is just a basic part of human decency

People who replace the toilet paper roll

Evil people who want us to monkey walk to wherever the TP is

When I was a little kid, my parents did everything they could to make sure I wasn’t a drag on the human race, and one of the key lessons that was taught to me was to always replace the toilet paper. Not replacing the TP means causing another person to revert back to ape days and four-paw it to wherever the TP is located, which is just a degrading and evil thing to do. After you have to do the penguin dance a few times, you learn this lesson the hard way.

Capoiera, now a Brazilian fighting style, roughly translates to “poo-poo hiney dance”

Personally, I am a strict constructionist when it comes to TP replacement. Putting another roll on top of the empty TP is not a replacement. Putting rolls within reach, while kind, is also a lazy non-substitute for a replacement. The last thing I’m interested in doing when I’m having my time is having to fiddle with the roll in some torso-twisted position, which might result in the spring-loaded holder flying across the room, thereby forcing me to “palm roll” the TP.

Also, there are the reverse-replacers who put the TP on backwards. This is when the tear occurs on the bottom, rather than the top, of the roll. This is stupid for a number of reasons. #1, you often have to hold the top of the roll because there is not enough resistance. If you try to “quick tear” the roll, yay!, you have Mardi Gras on your lap. #2, when you get a clean tear, the next sheet will recede back between the roll and the wall, forcing you to play Operation as you try to grab the next square without touching the metal holder. BZZZZZT! You have a disease.

All I’m asking for here is a proper replacement. If you grew up in a home without TP replacement or with backwards roll installation, your tell your wolf pack family how to do it right.

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 pee in the honey pot.

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

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

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