Yesterday I mentioned a very bad song that only got worse when it was covered by what used to be a respectable rock band. Today I’m going to talk about more “worst” things.

Worst movie ever: Cold Mountain. 140 minutes of boredom and 14 minutes of fury as I realized I wasted 2 and a half hours of my life and the main character died! AUGH! They tortured me for 154 minutes and couldn’t even give me a decent ending! That piece of shit won an Oscar, too.

Worst book ever: I’ve forgotten the title and the author (it was a very long time ago), but the ending was so bad that I threw the book across the room. It was an excellent read and kept me enthralled, right up to the end. It was about twins and crime and mistaken identities and one of them died at the end. Which one? Your guess is as good as mine, because the stupid bastard didn’t say. If I remember that author’s name and if I find him on the street, I’ll slap him. It pisses me off just thinking about it.

Second worst book ever: “Love Don’t Live Here No More. Doggy Tales: Vol.1*” by Snoop Dogg and David E. Talbert. I won this from Lass and I will never enter another one of her contests. I am permanently scarred by passages like this:

Climbing down from the passenger side was a light-skinned girl with freckles and a ponytail. She was wearing a miniskirt, showing more leg than the law allowed. She looked about our age, but developed. Had a body like a grown-ass woman. Thick thighs, breasts, and a booty you could rest your glass on top. We couldn’t wait to get chose.

I didn’t expect much from Snoop Dogg, but Talbert is an award-winning author. I cannot believe he put his name on this piece of Doggy doo.

The second worst conversation I had this week involved a coworker I’ve dubbed Marmaduke, because she has a goofy laugh, a deeeeeep Texas accent and the brain power of a horsefly. (Marmaduke the cartoon dog is smarter). Our printers have individual mailboxes, which just means the prints are stored in memory until I retrieve them. It cuts down on reprinting one page 16 times because someone accidentally picked up your print and was too lazy to return it. (Yes, I was guilty of that. Don’t judge me, man).

I went to the printer and Marmaduke had stacks of pages laid out across it, using it like a desTยฎ. She saw me waiting and said, “Oh, do you need out of your box?”
“No, Marmaduke. I’m not actually in a box.”
“You’re so silly! You know what I meant.”
Yes I did. And that’s what keeps me awake at night.

Everyone in my department has to fill out an online form and return it by the 12th of September. Thursday was the 4th, right? Marmaduke walked over to my desTยฎ with several copies of the form.

The worst conversation this week:

Marmaduke: I didn’t know if you printed you out one and if you ain’t if you wanted it.
Me: What?
Marmaduke: I didn’t know if you printed you out one and if you ain’t if you wanted it.
Me: What??
Marmaduke: Are you deaf?
Me: No. Do you speak English??

Maybe next week I’ll find some “best ever” things and stop being so pessimistic. But I doubt it.

*Edit: The scariest thing about this is that this is Volume 1. There’s more where that came from!

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