Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Today's random thoughts & such


- If I had to be a transvestite stripper...Look, I know what you're thinking, "Why would you ever have to be a transvestite stripper?" It's a hypothetical scenario. So, just imagine, okay?. If I had to be a transvestite stripper, my name would be Scarlett Johandsome. But I think I would spell it Skarlett Jo Handsome. It's a bit racier; a bit trashier.

- If I could take two musicians/artists and mold them into one super duper star, I would choose Notorious BIG and David Bowie. His name would be Biggy Stardust.

- Why do people say, "When pigs fly"? Why would you even suggest such a thing. You know there's some scientist out there that just got canned from his job, his wife just left him for his sister, and he just found out he was adopted. It's only a matter of time before he snaps. One late night, he'd be on the internet chatting it up with other washed up scientists. Next thing you know one of them responds with, "Yeah, when pigs fly." Then a light bulb goes off and the scientist would say, "Oh they'll fly. They'll fly alright. Every last one of them!" So, he went from scientist to retired scientist. Then retired scientist to retired mad scientist. Well, he wasn't mad initially, and he's still a scientist. So he'd be a mad scientist that's self employed. Anyway, next thing you know you're sun bathing on the beach and you get shit on by a flying pig. And your buddy asks, "What the hell was that?" And you'd respond, "God damn flying pigs...Yeah, they exist. Thanks a lot mad scientist."

- Ryan

Is it?

It is what it is:

I can't wait for the day that it isn't what it is. Take for instance this scenario.


STEVE is driving down the road. His ten year old son, ZACHARY, is sitting in the passenger seat.

Look out dad! There's a log in the road.

There's a huge log blocking the road.

How about that. Good looking out buddy.
Steve stops the car.
How did that log get there?

I'm not too sure kiddo. is what it is. Sometimes life puts a log in your way. You stay right here. I'm going to move it.

Steve gets out of the car and walks up to the log. He grabs a hold of the log. Suddenly the "log" starts moving. Ut oh, it's not a log. It's actually a crocodile camouflaged with branches and leaves. Then the crocodile grabs a hold of Steve's arm.

Oh my God! Zachary! I'm sorry! I was so wrong! It's not a log! It isn't always what it is, well, what you thought it was anyway! Looks can be deceiving! Remember that...forever!

The crocodile proceeds to eat Steve alive. Zachary shakes his head with disappointment. He learned a very good lesson that day. He had trust issues for the rest of his life and had a phobia of crocodiles, alligators, and pretty much any large, scaly creature.

- Ryan

Business Venture

I have an idea for a business. It's a business that specializes in business cards. We wouldn't just make your Plain Jane type of business cards. Oh no. Our cards would be...different; to the point that you won't even realize they're business cards. It would be called Terribly Unrealistic Biz Cards or TUB Cards for short.

The Origami Biz Card:
Though terribly impractical, the origami card is really really cool looking. We would offer an infinite amount of shapes. A dragon riding a segway? You got it. A carousel full of flying monkeys? No problem. An airplane? Umm, that's kind of boring. But, sure we can do that too. People won't forget you or what kind of business you got going on. Sure, they might not be able to fit it in their pockets. But I'm sure they'll find a place for it on their desk, right next to the pictures of their family and that stupid paper weight they got for their ten year anniversary with the company.

The Ninja Star (or Chinese Throwing Star) Biz Card:
This card would be a top seller. For one, it's really awesome. Secondly, it's super cool. Lastly, it's a god damn ninja star. This card would have many functions. But the best function would be what I like to call "You Just Got Ninja Starred" function. Say you just had a meeting with a potential client. Everything went well, and you part ways. Then all of a sudden, you realize that you didn't give the client one of your business cards. So you turn around and see the client in the distance. You reach into your briefcase and pull out one of your handy dandy Ninja Star business cards, then you throw hit. Because of the adhesive on the ninja star, you were able to give your client a business card from a distance. Sure, it's stuck to the back of his suit jacket. But, that's okay. He'll be pleasantly surprised later on. "Surprise! You just got Ninja Starred! I hope we can get down to business soon :-)"

Sometimes it's hard to market yourself. It can be a real struggle getting your name out there. For instance, say there's a building that you just can't get into. For some reason the security guards always throw you out. With the Ninja Star Biz Card, you can reach people from across the street or even from the rooftops. Stick it to their windows if you have to.

Fortune Teller Biz Card:
This is a fun idea. Pick a number. 5? Okay. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Now pick another number. 2? Okay. 1,2. Fortune: Your future business endeavors will bring you great wealth. Try it again. Pick a number. 3? Okay. 1,2,3. Pick another number. 4? 1,2,3,4. Fortune: For a good job call 856-381-8977. You have to let people know that you can do a good job. Give them a sample. I guarantee they'll be calling you for more good jobs.

Poker Deck Biz Cards:
These business cards come in a full deck of playing cards; including the jokers which say, "We ain't jokin'." It even comes with a tiny booklet of magic tricks. It's kind of like a two in one deal. You can cleverly pull a business card out of a potential clients ear; among other places. It really depends on what kind of business they got going on. For example, "Come here Mr. Pimp, standing outside of a run down motel. Oh no. Where did this card come from? Wherever you want. Oh yeah, it's a business card too. That's right. Teach all of your prostitutes, I mean friends.
- Ryan

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Another day, Another customer

A customer was leaving and he asked me, "Which way do I want to go out?" And I thought to myself, "I don't know bub. Which way do you want to go out?" Then I kindly said, "You can go out any way you want sir." Then I started to worry. I mean, I should have told him to go out any door that said exit. This guy obviously has a hard time finding his way around. Who knows, maybe he...

...decided to exit through a window, on the third floor.
...saw this old fireplace in my office and tried going up the chimney; which I'm pretty sure is closed off.
...rolled around in bubble wrap, boxed himself up but forgot to drop himself off at the mail room.
...tried to get a piggy back ride from a random stranger. escorted out by a police officer; or carried out if he was still in a box.
...borrowed a jackhammer from a construction worker and jackhammered right through the floor into a steamy river of sewage.
...hopped into a trashcan and waited it out until trash day.
...pulled the fire alarm, screamed, "Fire!", then followed everyone else.
...borrowed the jackhammer again and screamed, "Earthquake!"
...creepily hid inside a baby stroller and got wheeled out.
...pretended to be blind and got assistance.
...closed his eyes, opened his eyes and found himself outside a.k.a. telekinesis. Then he heard the door shut behind him.

I saw the man again the very next day. He was dissheveled and his hair was all shellacked up.

Back again I see.

No. I never left.

What happened to your clothes?

I couldn't decide which way to leave. And I got all confuzzled. Somehow I ended up on the roof. So I tied my clothes together and tried climbing down. It turns out I need like thirty more articles of clothing to reach the bottom.

Yeah. That is some confuzzling stuff. How about I show you how to get the hell out of this place. I've been working here five years and I still haven't found my own way out.

The man and I shared some corny laughter. Then I showed him the exit....which was actually the ladies room. Yeah, half naked guy in the ladies room. I'm sure he found his way out.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Original Auto-tuner

Welcome to the age of auto-tune. Because of this convenient technology, any pathetic, starry eyed, delusional idiot can sing. However, the more auto-tuned your voice gets, the more you sound like a robot. But, that's beside the point.

Auto-tune has been around for quite some time. K-Ci & JoJo got pretty heavy into the auto-tune sound. However, they could actually sing, very well I might add. So, they used this effect solely for the sound, not for it's vocal healing powers. However, "artists" such as T-Pain and Lil Wayne probably use it for both the sound and the enhancement.

Right now I would like to delve further into the history of auto-tune; back to the origins. It is my belief that the birth of auto-tune took place smack dab in the middle of 1970s rock n roll. One Mr. Peter Frampton chopped through the conventions of popular music with his axe and a little gadget called a talk box. This mechanism basically auto-tuned Frampton's vocals to the notes that he played on his guitar; thus creating the artifical, robotic auto-tune sound.


Peter Frampton is glued to his computer screen. He's watching rap videos on YouTube. The only light in the room is coming from the computer screen.

FRAMPTON (talking with his talk box)
I can't believe these talentless nincompoops. I invented this sound! Bloody savages rehashing my innovative soniferous technology and might I say genius Framptonian sound. Lil Wayne and T-Pain ain't nothing but a lil pain in my ass. What's this? Lil Wayne is performing this Saturday. I'll show him.

Frampton laughs like a mad scientist (using his talk box).



Lil Wayne is performing on stage.

Haha yeah! Haha yeah! Say what? Yo, check it. 1, 2. Here we go. Yal ready for this? Uhh! Uhh! Is you wit me now? Is you wit me now? Uhh! Haha! Said is you wit me now? I'ma do this.

All of a sudden a mysterious voice comes through the speakers.

FRAMPTON (talk box/auto-tune)
Do you feel like I do?

The music stops.

Who the f*** is that?!

Do you feel like I do ew ew ew? Awww that's true!

Then the spotlight finds the man with the mysterious voice, Mr. Peter Frampton. He's hanging from a wire in the middle of the stadium. It's slowly bringing him down towards the stage.

Aww hell naw! Frampton? Again?

Lil Wayne pulls a gat out of his pants. His crew of musicians pull out their gats which are taped to the inside of the bass drum, under the keyboard, and inside the afros of the back up dancers.

Pull me up!!!

A bullet goes right through the wire. Frampton falls to the floor. The place gets silent. So silent you could hear the sound of a bullet shell hit the floor. Suddenly there is a voice, a voice that breaks out of the silence.

FRAMPTON (in severe pain)
Do you feel like I do?

The crowd goes wild.

FRAMPTON (still in pain)
Aww that's true.

Lil Wayne chimes in with sincerity.

Yal feel like I do? Aww yeah uh that's the truth (pronounced troof).

The bouncers drag Frampton onto the stage and they bring him out a wheel chair. For the next two songs Frampton relives his glory days and jams his little heart out; until he tries to rock out a ten minute guitar solo. Then Lil Wayne wheels his ass off the stage.

Damn honky.

There is no love lost though. They still FaceBook each other to this very day.

- Ryan

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

More on that earthquake...

Two hours before the devil made sweet sweet love to Mother Nature and made her bed rock, I heard...a toot. That's right, I believe one of my co-workers (we'll call her Beatrice) farted while sitting in her swivel chair. I wasn't sure if anyone else heard the peculiar noise. So I just sat there waiting; waiting for someone to turn red with embarassment, or someone to say, "Heavens to Betsy. Pardon me", or at the very least, "Who just farted?" But no, there was nothing that followed this roaring rip...or so I thought.

I came up with a theory. I believe when my co-worker let one rip, she actually caused a mini tremor which later resulted in the bigger seismic event that the rest of the east coast felt. The technical term for such a fault is called a strike-slip. But in this case we'll call it slip-strike because first, she let one slip. Then came the stunning strike. So, what the east coast felt was merely an aftershock. But what I experienced in the office that day, well, that was in the very heart of the epicenter. A seismologist would say that the hypocenter, point of initial rupture, was oddly enough between an existing crack and the seat of a swivel chair. I'm still recovering from this horrific event.

This just in. A hurricane is coming our way. I thinks it's been named Irene. However, I think Beatrice is a better fit.

- Ryan

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Rock n Roll

Sorry east coast. Brandon and I had our amps cranked up to 11.

Let's Dance

Last week I was at my local Post Office. There was one postal worker, one customer at the counter being waited on, two more customers at tables preparing their mail, and me waiting in line. David Bowie's Modern Love was playing on the radio. I couldn't contain the rhythm inside me. So I started swaying back and forth. Then, I noticed the elderly lady at the counter. She was hopping and bopping. And I thought, "Wow, Gam Gam's got moves." So there we were, just dancing away the afternoon. It was a great feeling; one of the finest moments of my life. Then I looked around to see if anyone else was dancing. But, to my disappointment, everyone remained still. So naturally, I let my imagination carry us away. Soon, the Postal worker was swinging from the lights. The two people preparing their mail were break dancing on the tables. And Gam Gam, well, she found a pole. All of a sudden we were out on the sidewalk performing an intricate dance piece in perfect time and we sang in unison. Police officers, community service convicts, Jehovah's witnesses, protestors, a baker, a man dressed up like a pirate, and a donkey all chimed in. It was great. Even church bells knew the tune. It ended with me at the top of a pyramid which was constructed out of all of the participants in the musical number. Then I snapped out of it and realized I was still waiting in line. If only life could be a musical.

- Ryan

What's the action?

What's the action?
Gambling can become a serious problem. It can become an addiction. With that said, gambling can be awesome. I mean, if you play your cards right, you could win big. Sure, you might have to use some collateral a.k.a. your child's college fund and that fondue set that Aunt Betty got you for Christmas last year. But let's be honest. You were just going to re-gift that fondue maker anyway, right? You wouldn't even miss it. So what, it heats up a pot of melted deliciousness. And I bet you could dip anything in there: pizza crust, a whole cheese steak, donuts, quesadillas, paninis, waffles, shrimp, shrimp kabob, shrimp sandwich, and strawberries. You know what, that sounds too good to just gamble away in a game of chance. You see? Even addicts can think rationally. I'll just substitute it with that painting that my grandfather left for me in his will. It's ugly anyway. I'm sorry Mr. PickAsso, or whatever your name is, but your painting sucks. My little cousin painted something just like it the other day. I'd show it to you, but I lost it in a shady game of craps in Chinatown last week.

The Gambler
I would like to witness a day in the life of a really impulsive gambler.

We'll call him Roger but people call him Rog and he's 28 years old. He wouldn't start the day out by waking up. No. He'd already be awake. In fact, he just got in. We'll say, it's 5am. He's having his morning whiskey at the senior citizen home that he bunks at; in his grandmother's room. He makes his 27th bet at 5:30am in the rec room. At first he loses $50 on a bet while watching The Price Is Right with the rest of the tenants. However, by 7:00am he's up $450. As the tenants head for the cafeteria, Rog walks by the television and ejects a VHS tape from the VCR. Then he looks at the camera.

ROGER (in a Ray Liotta-like voice from Goodfellas)
Okay, so I taped The Price Is Right yesterday and replayed it today. Big whoop. It's their fault for not remembering that they just watched it yesterday. You have to be on the look out for these old timer weisenheimers. They think that a crutch is just their crutch. You have to see beyond their frail exterior. Deep down inside they're as hard as the titanium on their walkers. They have an average of 87 years worth of strife. And I know that they can take a punch; some figuratively, some literally. That's why I have to hit them where it hurts, again. Get inside their really warped & senile brains and get them to bet their walkers and wheel chairs. Maybe one day they'll want to buy them back. And I'll give it to them for cheap. Because what the hell am I going to do with a wheel chair and a walker anyway? Save 'em for when I get old? No, because by then I would have taken a gamble on a low class prostitute and my liver would have lost a bet with alcoholism. I'll die before I get old. You can bet on that. I would. I have.



Rog sports a brown leather jacket and greasy hair. He hops on a bus and heads to a birthday party for a two year old. He takes the bus because he had to pawn his car for money. You can only imagine why. He leans over next to the driver and looks out the front window. The bus driver is wearing glasses with really thick lenses.

My man. So what's the action?

The bus driver looks around.

BUS DRIVER (baffled)

Said what's the action?

What action? I'm driving a bus here.

How fast can this thing go?

I can get it up to 100 on a good day.

Yeah right. I bet you fifty bucks you can't even pass this Ford Taurus in front of us.

Oh yeah? You're on pal!

The bus driver takes off and tries to pass the car. But the car speeds up and cuts in front of the bus and leaves the bus in the dust. The bus driver slows down. He looks flustered and embarassed.

Wow. Must have been a Ford Mustang. Pay up loser. That's bus fare for a month.



ROG walks in like he owns the joint. JOHN and ALISON greet Rog. Rog is constantly watching his back.

JOHN (Surprised)
Hey man. How's it going?

Great. Well, actually kind of lame right now. But...

Oh yeah? You're looking a little empty handed there buddy. This is a birthday party.

Yeah well, I bought Billy a bottle of Jack. But I drank it on the way here. So...there's always next year though right?

Tyler. His name is Tyler. Why did you invite him John?

I didn't invite him. I thought you invited him.

Look guys, I didn't come here to start any arguments...but I guess there's no turning back now. So, can you spot me a few bucks?

I can't believe this.

Alison storms off. John starts yelling at Rog. However Rog tunes him out and notices a guy in the distance listening to the radio and playing with a Ritz cracker like it's a poker chip. Rog makes his way over to the guy.


The GUY looks over his shoulder and looks around.

Race in ten minutes.

Who's the favorite?

Princess Lolligag.

Perfect. Put me down for one hundred.



Rog and the Guy are celebrating a win. Tyler and the rest of the kids are playing musical chairs.

I bet you one hundred bucks that little Henry wins.

Who's Henry?

The birthday boy. Duh.

Oh. That's his name. Oh there's no way he's winning. I will take that bet. Then I will take your money.

In the end, Rog wins. He walks out of the party (in slow motion, smoking a cigarette) with three hundred bucks in his right pocket and candy over flowing in his left pocket. Yeah, he may have hustled some kids in Go Fish.

- Ryan

Sunday, August 21, 2011

My Turn

Dear World,

I sincerely apologize for not upholding my end of the blog bargain (blargain?) that I agreed to with Ryan. He has brought it to my attention that my contributions to this operation are, at best...and I quote "less than useless."

Ok fine, he never said that. But that raises an interesting that Ryan and myself are basically knocking on the door of fame (more like gently tapping on the screen door...but that'll change soon), I just want to emphasize the potential impact that a misquote could have on our blossoming careers. This internet stuff is wild. With social networking virtually running the world, if one of our nemesi (plural of nemesis, cuz yeah, we're gonna have many) were to incorrectly quote us on FaceSpace or TwitBook, our 'net cred would surely suffer.


#HatesRyan&Brandon69 tweets:  Check out this quote from #Ryan&Brandon: "Kevin Bacon sucks."

See what I mean? Could you imagine the ramifications if Kevin friggin Bacon read that!? We obviously love and respect the Bakes, and would never say anything like that. Yet all it takes is one nerd with a grudge to sully our rep, and before we know it, we're cut off. No six degrees of Kevin Bacon for us...

Read it & weep,


Saturday, August 20, 2011

New Background

I needed a new background for my work computer. And I stumbled across this gem while googling pictures...

- Ryan

Thursday, August 18, 2011


Insurance is important. Especially when you have children. I'm not talking about medical insurance. I'm talking about embarassing blackmail, I've been saving this for the right moment kind of insurance. My kids won't stand a chance. Take Halloween for instance. Say I have a daughter. I would dress her up in a shiny golden ring costume. Then I would dress up like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. I know what you're thinking. "That's cute." Yep. "That's precious." You know it. "That's creepy and weird." Now we're talkin'. When she's a teenager and acts up, I can go to the vault, take out this picture and say, "You want to make a mess and spill paint in the garage? This is what you get. Boom!" Then I would show the picture to all of her friends and that toolbag Sebastian that she has a crush on. Sure, it might even be a little embarassing for me. But that's a small price to pay for satisfaction. I mean good parenting.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


There are many things to look at in Las Vegas. However, there are many things to look out for in Las Vegas. There is so much to find. Yet there is so much you can lose.

1. Stranger strangers. Strangers in Las Vegas are even stranger than your average stranger. So look out. It's like they want you to know that they're strange. Some guy wore a Barney suit. First of all, we're in Vegas man. It's kind of creepy. Secondly, is Barney even relevant anymore? I'm sure the kids that you're trying to attract have no idea who Barney is anyway. Lastly, it's like 105 degrees out there. Even the kids are probably thinking, "Wow. What an idiot. Stupid purple dinosaur."

2. Bums. Bums in Las Vegas are the most honest bums I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. One guy had a sign that said, "Honestly. I just want some alcohol." But alcohol was spelled "alkohall". I mean, sure I'll give you alcohol. But you should atleast do something with yourself; work for it a little. Like, play a ukelele. Can't afford one? Make one out of a card board and rubberbands. Be crafty. It doesn't even have to sound good. Just as long as you try. I mean, hell, there's a guy down the street wearing a Barney costume. Do you know what kind of skills you need for a job like that? Jack shit.

3. Let's talk magicians. Billboard advertised magicians are usually the way to go. For instance, Penn & Teller put on an incredible show. However, I would look out for street magicians. They put on an incredibly bamboozling, leave you naked in a alleyway kind of show; if that's what you're looking for. First, some shady, heavy set Criss Angel looking son of a bitch will approach you with some free magic. That's your first sign. Nothing is free; especially in Sin City. Next thing you know it, you're surrounded by proud tourists wearing Las Vegas t-shirts and fanny packs. You're trapped, so you give in and the magic begins. Slowly but surely things start disappearing: your wallet, your shoes, your pants. And your boxer briefs have been replaced with tighty whities. Suddenly you notice that the magician is wearing your pants and you can only imagine that he's wearing your boxer briefs too. Then you realize that you're probably wearing his tighty whities. Then he winks at you and you know for sure, yes, you're wearing his tighty whities. But hey, that's just a typical Tuesday afternoon on the strip.

4. Look out for an old man dressed in white slacks, a coral colored blazer, old man tinted bifocal glasses and slicked back greasy hair. He'll try to lure you to his club; which is God knows where. Sure, he's skeevy and creepy. But, he's probably just some old guy with bad fashion sense right? I mean, what kind of club could he possibly be running? Bridge club, Pokeno club, Parcheesi club? It turns out that he was a pimp. And poof! Before I knew it I was dancing on a stage in some dark strip club, wearing tighty whities, and a nametag that said Sweet Cheaks. I was robbed of my self respect and my virginity...again. But hey, that's Vegas baby. Vegas.

5. Spas can be awesome and really relaxing...until the fog clears in the sauna and you realize that you're surrounded by a bunch of naked old men; just letting it all hang out. Then you retreat to the hot tub and oh no, there are more naked old men. Eventually you say, "What the hell?" and just dive in because life's to short to sweat the...old, gross, wrinkled stuff. 

6. Billboards on wheels. Trucks with mini billboards attached to them ride up and down the strip. They're usually advertising strip clubs. I thought that my experience with the old man in the coral blazer was over. Then I saw a billboard on wheels drive by with a picture of me with a top hat covering my private parts, my left hand holding a magic wand, and my right hand magically pulling a bunny out of my ass. At that very moment I knew I found my true calling. You can pull the man out of Vegas. But you can't pull Vegas out of the man. Or can you? Abracadabra.

7. What's more mechanical, slot machines or the people that play them? I'm not talking about all people, but the seasoned slot gamblers. They don't even seem the slightest bit enthusiastic. If anything they seem depressed, all slouched down in their chair that's barely holding them up. It's very sad looking. What happens if they win? Do they celebrate by sitting up straight? What if they win big? Do they give a half assed smirk? What if they win really big? Do they do a little dance, a jig perhaps? Then ut oh, boom, heart attack. Dead. That's a bit morbid; kind of a sin. But hey, that's why they call it Sin City right? Right?

8. All of the female dealers at the Planet Hollywood casino show tons of cleavage. They do that on purpose to throw guys and the occasional woman off of their game. So I came up with a counter attack which involves my cleavage. Not the standard cleavage. Oh no. I'm talking about ass cleavage. Ass crack cleavage. Oops! I dropped my chips. Oh yeah. That'll get the dealer all flustered. And it did.
DEALER (Flustered)
You have an ace high.

Umm. I'm sorry ma'am. But...we're playing roulette.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Eww That Smell

There's this guy that comes into the office every once in a while. He smells. He even looks smelly. Now that's bad. Folks around the office often ask, "Did Mr. Smelly Pants come in?" Well, we don't know for sure that the smell is coming from his pants. But it's a pretty safe bet. Yeah, I'd bet my life on it. It's kind of a shame because everyone laughs at him behind his back. So it's like we always get the last laugh. Then I started thinking, what if he's stinky on purpose? What if it's his plan to stink up the place and piss us off? Well then I say touche because he gets the last laugh. But then again he still smells like shit. And he has to walk around like that all of the time just to prove something gross. There are other ways to piss people off; sanitary ways. Hmm. Yeah. In the end, I think it's safe to say that we would get the last laugh. Oh and Mr. Smelly Pants has children. Yeah, someone out there got all hot and smelly with this guy.

- Ryan

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Can I be a boss?

I would love to be a boss one day. It doesn't matter what kind of boss. Just as long as I had my own office. I would pull so many pranks.

The Pranks:

1. Interviewees would experience some heavy grilling. I'd set up the office like an interrogation room with just one flickering lamp in the middle. All the while I'd be asking them questions and grilling some bratwurst on my George Forman grill. The room would get all hot and smokey, which would test their will. Then the fire alarm would go off. That's when the true test would come in. I would fall to ground and ask for help. If they run out of the room without helping me then they wouldn't get the job. However, if they assist in dragging me out of there, then they would get hired. And they would get a bratwurst.

2. All day long I would have an instrumental version of Candy Man from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory playing in the background; throughout the office and on the elevator. Then I would ask one of my employees to come into my office for a meeting. He/she would sit down in front of my desk. I would sit down and swivel my chair until I had my back to him/her. Conversation would ensue. Then he/she would notice a carefully placed bowl of Skittles on my desk. It wouldn't take long for him/her to give into temptation and reach for the Skittles (the Skittles that I glued together and to the bowl). I would swivel around and find the employee licking the bowl. Then I would fire him/her. You just can't trust anyone that wouldn't last a minute in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

3. I wouldn't discpline my employees in the usual fashion. No scolding, no yelling, no words. I would speak my mind through my actions. As we all know, actions hit harder than words. Unless you can breathe hard enough to knock someone down. But that's beside the point. Let's say Phil is doing a terrible job, his productivity level is low, and he always has this look on his face like he's always smelling something foul. One day Phil will walk into work and his cubicle won't be in the same place. Where will it be? It will be in the restroom attached to the stalls. Because if Phil wants to do a shitty job, then that is where he belongs.

- Ryan