Friday Guest Mock: Mockable Me
I lied to you guys again. I’m going to save yesterday’s mostly finished mock for Monday. See, I’ve got this thing going on that has completely consumed my life for the past several weeks…anyway, it doesn’t matter because this guest mock rocks so hard that my dumb ass would just be getting in the way. The ‘fire alarm during my mammogram’ bit made me laugh and fart simultaneously…thought you’d like to know.
This weekly installment of our Guest Mock series is being handled by the lovely and talented Zazu. I don’t think you can find her work anywhere else on the Interwebs so I’m gonna go ahead and claim another Mockable exclusive.
On with the mocking:
I wanna mock!
I wanna be clever and urbane!
I really wanna make people snort coffee out their noses!
So the invitation has been extended for us little lurkers to contribute to the community enterprise of silliness with a Friday guest mock. Did they really think this through?
The gauntlet has been thrown down so that means I must accept the challenge. All I have to do is think about what I really want to mock. In person, I can ridicule and be sarcastic all day long. But in print?
In writing classes (high school, college and the worthless online class I paid for myself) we learned to “write what you know”.
So,if I know it, I can mock it!
OK – what do I really know? At one point I used to know everything, but now I don’t think I know anything!
Let me see, I know what stupid officespeak I heard today.
“The most important step is to get executive sponsorship for this project.”
“I can provide a copy if you would like to ‘mirror’ our policy
“Why, yes, I think the extra training week was very beneficial.”
I know I hesitate to admit how well I use/understand the same officespeak myself.
I know that when I say “The most important step is to get executive sponsorship for this project.” I really mean “So they can take the fall.”
I know that when I say “I can provide a copy if you would like to ‘mirror’ our policy.” I really mean “You can just copy this since you are too dumb to figure this out for yourselves.”
I know that when I say “Why yes, I think the extra training week was very beneficial”, I really mean “I didn’t think it was possible for you to think up a bigger waste of my time.”
I know, boooooorrrrrring stuff.
I know I can come up with a sure fire way to mock our little community of commentators.
“1st! Ha!
“Second!”
“FIRSTTTTTTTTTTTTT”
“Top ten 2 days in a row! Color me amazed!”
I know that a guy who calls himself “Shiny Rod” scares me a little but also intrigues me…a little.
But Jeff wouldn’t want me to piss off his readers….I’d never get that past the Metten/Kay Approved Mockery Committee.
I know I could mock Jeff, hippie yurt user, former owner of a box of beds.
“This is not a blog.”
“can’t user the crapper at work,”
“Andy went ass over tits”
“What in the candy-striped hell?”
Oh wait; they do that in the comments….
What else? Hmmmm….
I know the same ol’ crap that happens in all office cubical conurbations. I know that a cube life(?) commentary would be good for one or more fart stories, at least one good bitch about the adjacent ice cruncher, several good rehashings of loud whispered kids/spouse/ex-lover arguments from behind the partition. I know that these people think their cubes are as sacrosanct as the confessional. I know I don’t wanna be their priest.
I know why I email some people rather than talking to them in person. I also know why I keep the emails as evidence. I know that I hate for anyone to send me an email that consists of only “Thank you.” because then I will have to send one that just says “You are welcome.”
I know I am sick on my Wii fit telling me I am obese and off balance. I know I am going to eat all the ice cream I want anyway.
I know why I think I am not married (as opposed to why I am really not).
I know exactly what all sags a little more each year – where it is now and where it is headed. I know that I don’t know how low it can go.
I know what I want to happen to assholes on the highway…
I know what I want to do to the chunky tank topped baby mama in the front of me in the “20 items or less” line at the Wal-Marts. I know her cart is filled with 150 pounds of diet soda, microwavable pork rinds, super sized Hershey bars, 2 screaming kids, store brand cheetos, 1 industrial sized foundation underwire undergarment, 4 pounds of “Trans Fatty” brand frozen tacos, circus peanuts, pot pies, 2 cases of Miller High Life, and fat free Twinkies. And I know how long I will be waiting for her price check on the new bicycle shorts she found on floor beside the clearance rack where the sign says everything was 3 bucks, dammit!
I know what I think they ought to do with the Progressive Insurance girl, that slimy Limey lizard, and that bitch who sucks yogurt out of the container in the grocery store that show up on my TV at regular 5 minute intervals.
I know how much I want to smack the fat gal who sits in the cube behind me. (Insert picture of Delores Umbridge wearing her fuzzy pink sweater here) I know how I cringe as soon as I hear start shaking ice out of her endless cup of ice into her maw. Kerunch! Munch. Munch. Munch. Munch. Munch. Munch. I know that she thinks crunching ice will help her lose weight and keep her from eating candy. I know that it is not working.
I know what I want to do to the next “hovering” female who leaves dribbles all over “my” seat in the restroom. I know how wet the back of my legs get.
I know how I would like to really answer the proverbial interview question “Where do you see yourself in five years.”
I know what I should pelt my neighbor with. This is the guy who likes to walk his dog all the way to my yard (away from his). I know that until the other day when I happened to see his dog hunch up to do the southbound tail curl in my front yard, I assumed he owned a horse.
I know what I want to give to the thoughtful asshole who starts all the collections around the office “for Norma’s ex-trailer trash-daughter-in-law’s cousin’s father’s graduation, funeral and baby shower”.
I know I am tired of receiving invitations to my sister’s weddings. And I know I won’t be surprised when I receive the next one.
I know how flabby those tattoos are going to look on your bottom in about 20 years.
I know what I want to do to the moron who brings in Krispy Kreme doughnuts on the morning that I have started my diet…again.
I know I don’t really care why/how/when Michael Jackson got into drugs and I know I wasn’t all that surprised it turned out badly. I know that I am not going to watch another TV special about it.
I know my dog refuses to poop without me. I know I get really tired of my dog insisting on including me in his morning poop project before I have my morning coffee. But I also know what will happen to my rug if I don’t accompany him on morning poop patrol.
I know what I want to say to my mother the next time she wants to borrow my “frashlight” or says she must be coming down with “oldtimers” or something because her memory is getting bad.
I know that I am certain there is going to be a fire drill in the middle of my next mammogram and the technician is going to say “Just hold it right there. We’ll be back in a few.”
I know what I want to say to the guy who invented “rounding” for all new employees.
I know what hell all the supervisors who’ve made me write my own performance reviews should be sent to.
I know what I am going to say the next time my son calls and asks to borrow money. I know how skeptical I am going to feel when he promises to pay me back.
I know what I would like to call the next iPhone owner who tells me “There is an app for that!”
I know why women really have babies as opposed to why they say they do.
I know what mental image I have of you after seeing your screen name.
I know there is so much that need to be mocked. Geez. Where do I start?
If you’d like to contribute a Friday Guest Mock please send it to mockable[at]gmail.com If it’s funny and won’t get us sued, we’ll most likely feature it at the site. And don’t forget to include the address to your blog or website, so we can link back at ya. Thanks!
Great fucking mock. More please.
Oh, yeah, you mock so fine. And, I’m just what you think–a fattish, slighty past middle-aged seriously sarcastic bitch of a woman who was born and will die in the desperately deep south. I am not; however, a game piece in the Wal-Mart game although I may dress that way sometimes.
Second!!! Oh wait, sorry.
With all due respect to those who came before you, I think this was one of the best mocks yet. (Guest left out intentionally)
Thanks! This day was sucking – car battery died – keyfob that lets me connect to the VPN to work remotely died – but now all is better!
@ Vicki – we need to start a support group for those of us stuck in the (love your phrase) “desperately deep south”. I also worry about the notion that someone might tag me for the Walmart game someday…
Good job, Zazu! If Texas counts, I will join your support group! Oh, and by the way, I stalk those $3 racks at Walmart… and it pays off, if you can be patient. Norma Kamali for Wal-Mart, baby.
Would love to know your mental picture of me… and why you think I had kids?!
“that slimy Limey lizard”
Fuck you! 🙂
Ha! “Fire drill in the middle of my next mammogram” — classic. A friend was getting one when there was a blackout a few years ago. The backup generator was a bit rusty and took a few minutes to kick in, but by that time, she had already pried her (now elongated) boob out from between the plates since the daft technician had left her there to try and figure out what the problem was. Now that I think about it, this is going on my list of nasty things to wish upon the über-bitches of this world.