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it's beginning to look a lot like pimping
12/23/2006 = 04:09 AM

The Very Special Holiday Episode of Podcrapular is up.

If you don't have an iPod, you can still go listen to it at Pod-o-Matic (might want to use earphones if you're at the office, 'cos we say some bad words), or if you've got us friended at My Space. There are players right on there — you can play it off your computer, or download and save it to your own computer (beware, it's long and ginormous).

Not to lure you in too deeply, but someone got a Podcrapular Award. Wouldn't you like to know who? Wouldn't you like to find out how to get one of your very own?

The Podcrapular Award, incidentally, works along the same lines as the Blingo prizes: if you have to click on the "Did I Win?" link, you should already know that no, you didn't.

Blingo gives better prizes, though, so you should be using it. It's free and all.

Also, if you sign up under my link, I win whatever you win, and you'll win whatever is won by anyone who signs up under your own link. But if you win me something, I will give you a Podcrapular Award, so that's, like, two free prizes.

Boy, this pimping thing sure is labor-intensive.

Shame? I have no shame. Nor pride, from the look of things. (Buy my book. Oh, what a giveaway.)

Things I got done yesterday: quite a lot, actually.

Amount of sloth-lounging accomplished: none, really, unless you count that I didn't get in the shower till after the mail came (had to sign for a delivery and didn't want to get caught with my britches down, so to speak).

I forgot to tell you about this phone call from Wednesday:

Me (answering phone): Golf Widow.
Caller: Hey, Golf, it's Stupid Betty* from the printing press.
Me (aww, shit. stop. be perky): Hi, Betty! What's up?
Caller: Well, see, it's this catalog order from one of your clients ... no, wait ... wait ... um, this isn't your product. I don't think this is your catalog. Wait. Um. I forget what I called you about. Um. I'll call you back when I have a clue.
Me (perkily): Oh, okay! Talk to you later! (hangs up) Hot shit — if she's not calling back till she has a clue, I'll never hear from her again.

And, no, she didn't call back again before I went on vacation. Hot, as I say, shit.

* Obviously not her real name. Her real name is Stupid Agnes.

Dear Person Who Set the Santa Mailbox at the Green on Fire:

Maybe you're a vandal who hates little kids, or maybe you're a careless smoker who mistook a big tacky red box clearly marked "Letters for Santa" for a big tacky red ashtray.

Or maybe you were just cold.

Well, you won't have to worry about that any more. Santa may not know what the other kiddies want since you burned up their letters, but your sorry ass is getting coal.

Sincerely,

Golf "If You've Got a Problem With the Parents and You Took it Out on the Kids Then You Suck Even Harder" Widow

Tags: podcast, Blingo, The Joiner Inners

drinking: ice water
listening to: The Joiner Inners, Coral Eden
let me guess: never listened to the joiner inners, right? you know the drill. go now and i'll wait here