Happy Holidays!

- The Waitstaff

www.thewaitstaff.com

I Don’t Take Things Too Personally

I was walking back from the post office today when I passed a street musician singing Here Comes the Sun. Now, I don’t know if he was making a comment about the cruel game gravity is playing with my body or if he was just singing with a really affect accent, but when I walked passed him I swear he sang, “Little darling, I see the ass is slowly melting.”

Whichever his reason, I just wanted to spin around and yell at him, “Fuck You! Fuck You to Hell!”

- CPW

I Work in a Symphony of Phlegm

Winter is getting its full head of steam, Christmas is right around the corner, and Hanukah has already started.

And to commemorate this season's tidings of joy, my workplace has gotten together to unleash a cacophony of hacking, wet, choking coughs ringing down upon every healthy ear within a four mile radius.

Anything to make the season brighter.

Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly, Hacka hacka COUGH, Ca-hack hack COUGH.

Hugs and [Coughing Fit],

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

Stinky Ol' Ladies

Hello. Today's post discusses the topic of stinky old ladies.

Specifically, the two ladies who work at my day job. Not to name these individuals, but their names are Yolanda and Judy.

Now, when I say these ladies stink, you may surmise that they have B.O. from being unwashed, or have noxious effluvia from under-attentive lavatory habits. No.

No, no, no.

These ladies stink to high heaven of perfume. Not an expensive perfume, I'm sure, just a K-Mart type "Eau de Old Broad" that brings to mind thoughts of nursing homes, broken hips, and Depends. A cloyingly sweet smell that only certain highly sensitive and neurotic individuals like me can detect.

I go around asking people "Do you smell Yolanda? Is that Judy? Can you smell them?" Most people sadly shake their heads at me and move away, smiling politely.

But, as I said, there are some of us in this company that have a highly over-developed sense of propriety that, like Milton in "Office Space", makes us feel resentful if our boundaries are crossed. ( "But I'm allowed to play the radio at a resonable level from nine til eleven...") And these old bats cross my olfactory boundries by slapping on gallons of this putrid stink-water! Sometimes I gag!

Luckily, I don't work near either of these two stinkeroos, but when they mosey into my department, sometimes together, you could swear your dead aunt had come back to life and was stalking you.

I swear, it's getting so I'm thinking about not having those lunchtime cunnilingus sessions with them, or the boss' mother. Geeze.

It's My D*ck in a Box

So, Andy Samberg might be singlehandedly saving the reputation of Saturday Night Live as a comedy institiution.

I'll be honest, most of their new stuff doesn't make me laugh anymore.

However, with the advent of the SNL Digital Short, SNL now has at least something that I look forward to.

Please See: the internet classic "Lazy Sunday" and Natalie Portman as a hardcore rapper.

And the latest in the series is now firmly lodged in my damn head.

Also, kudos to Justin Timberlake. (Never thought I'd say that.)

Here's wishing we all get what we want or put want we want in a box this Christmas.

Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

Ugg Shoes Are A Menace

Ok, I'll admit, right at the beginning of this post, that I do not like Ugg boots or shoes.

I have no justification for this, just that I find them Ugg-ly. (Ok, that joke sucked, but it gets my point across. Bite me.)

But why are they a menace?

Public Enemy

Because in the middle of the night, in the darkness, I got out of bed, stepped on on my wife's pseudo-furred Ugg and thought I killed my cat.

Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

ADDENDUM to Peter Boyle Got Dissed In His Own Obituary

So, shortly after posting this, I was speaking to a co-worker and mentioned Peter Boyle had died. The following conversation then occured:

Co-worker: "Who's Peter Boyle?"
Me: "He was the Monster in Young Frankenstein."
Co-worker: "I never saw that."
(At which point I slapped her... in my mind, anyway.)
Me: "Well, he was in The Dream Team, ... (No recognition) Joe, ...(Nothing) Malcolm X?! ..."(Nada)
Co-worker: "Doesn't sound familiar."
Me: (Slowly and unwilling...) "He played the dad on Everybody Loves Raymond."
Co-worker: "OH! I know him! He died? Awww..."
Me: (Beating my head against a wall.) "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

[Sigh],

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

Peter Boyle Got Dissed In His Own Obituary

`Raymond' dad Peter Boyle dies in NYC

That headline officially pisses me off. Officially.

I had a certificate drawn up and everything.

How dare you pidgeonhole Peter Boyle into that role for his obituary headline!

He was so much more than a TV Dad. Look at this career!

This gets my panties in a bunch. That headline should read:

Funny-ass Mother F*cker Peter Boyle Dies

And I would be remiss if I did not include this video.

Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

And Now For Something Completely... How the f*ck did that UNICORN get in here?!

For whatever reason, now I can't find anything BUT Unicorns on the web. Trust me, they're everywhere.

I'm convinced they've infiltrated the Internet, and have secretly captured the NetGremlin Kingdom.

Look out, E-mail Gnomes, they're eyeing you next.

Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

Nativity Procedures

It's Christmas.

We have a Nativity Scene.

According to my wife, we can't put B.J. (Baby Jesus) in the manger until Christmas because he hasn't been 'born' yet.

So he currently resides in his mother's womb, otherwise known as the drawer of our end table.


Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

The Waitstaff on Comedy Central's Insider!! AGAIN!!

What better way to spend the holidays than shaving the snatch of someone you love?

Comedy Central's Insider has once again turned its eye to a festive Waitstaff song.

Seriously, CC's like Sauron and crap.

Click Here to see You Shaved Your P*ssy Like a Christmas Tree For Me featured on the Mother of all comedy sites.

Ok, more like the smelly Aunt.

And if you missed it before, you can also see The Blowjob Song.

Good to the last drop!

Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

www.thewaitstaff.com

More F*cking Unicorns?!

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the Internet... click two more pages to the right, and we're back in the Unicorn section again.

I had no idea unicorns had garnered such a large share of the toy market.

Today we have this abomination: The Cold War Unicorns Play Set.

The Cold War Unicorns play set can help you relive the good old days when the bad guys wore red, and the good guys wore red, white, and blue. Recreate the cold war in your living room as the "commie" unicorn and the "freedom" unicorn battle each other for global domination. Each superpower unicorn stands 3-3/4" tall. Great gift for the politically nostalgic. IBM missiles sold seperately.

Seems marketed rather one-sidedly towards the good ol' U.S. of A.

Wonder if there’s a Russian site selling this, describing the red unicorn as “mighty and just” and the red, white, and blue unicorn as “puny and meddling”. Hmmm…

Oh, and I love the joke about the missiles. That was brilliant! (Ahhh, sarcasm, my only true friend.)

But they spelled ‘separately’ wrong, and friends, that is no laughing matter.

Nor is the fact that you’re making a political statement in the form of UNICORNS!

That, in my humble - but egotistical - opinion, is… dumb. Dumb with a side of retard sauce. (Served with potatoes au gratin. Yum!)

I need also mention that this unicorn gift and the one mentioned in my last post are available on a website billing its merchandise as “Smart Gifts for Intelligent People.”

To me, it reads, “Smart-ass Gifts for People who Think They’re Intelligent.”

Of course, then I saw this:

... and thought it was funny.

Guess I’m an Intelligent Smart-Ass.

And so, here’s wishing you all a happy commercial holiday season.

F*ckin' Commies.

Hugs and Handjobs,

-JQ

Special thanks to CPW, an expert in all things plastic and horny. (Meaning toy Unicorns… what?)

www.thewaitstaff.com

Just In Time For Christmas... Unicorns!

It's Christmas time, and this, no lie, is a new product out just in time for the holidays.

You know, if this can be mass produced and sold for profit, I'm in the wrong business.

Allow me to present the Avenging Unicorn Playset.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words...

This one's worth two thousand.

The following is the honest to goodness write up for it:

Doesn't everyone want an imaginary unicorn friend that can be called upon to smite one's enemies? Well, now you have the chance to get a plastic equivalent of such a fantastical beast with the Avenging Unicorn Play Set. Each boxed set includes four figures and four interchangeable horns for the white unicorn figure, which stands 3.75-inches tall.

In addition to the mighty horned beast, he includes three humans which may be impaled on his horn: a new age woman, a business man, and a mime, each of which are 3.125-inches tall.

Do you believe? Unicorns are magical creatures that exist only for those who believe.
When they are not frolicking in dewy meadows or posing on windy cliffs they are helping believers do away with daily annoyances.

Does the New Age lady at the bookstore get on your nerves when she starts ranting about her latest encounter with an ancient warrior spirit? Are you tired of being accosted by the creepy mime who thinks he deserves a quarter for pretending to be trapped in a box? Does that arrogant businessman in the well-pressed suit drive you crazy with loud talking on his cell phone in a crowded elevator?

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and summon a unicorn. If you believe in the magic of unicorns with all your heart and soul they will answer your call.

The Unicorn Code:
1. Unicorns never lie.
2. Unicorns always lend a helping hand.
3. Unicorns are loyal.

Think I'm lying? Go buy one.

Now let's break this down. Someone, somewhere, has it in his/her imagination that the best way to rid the world of annoying people is to "Close your eyes, take a deep breath and summon a unicorn" to IMPALE the offending citizens.

Creative? Yes. Slightly insane? Hell yes. (But I'm with him on the mime. Mimes suck.)

But since that's not plausible (Unicorns aren't real. It's true, I looked it up.), let's create a plastic version to live out this fever dream. And better yet, sell it for profit.

But here's the thing. What if someone buys this for you?

The gift giver thinks one of two things, 1) you actually like unicorns, or 2) you are borderline homicidal.

Just what I want stuffed in my stocking this year - affirmation of my fears that I'm losing it.

Have a Happy Hugs and Handjobs Holiday,

-JQ - with additonal reporting by CPW

www.thewaitstaff.com

Rejected Christmas Poems

As those of you who have seen us live know, we like to infuse Culture into our live performances. (It’s a nice counter balance to the raunch.) In that vein I wrote some poetry for our Holiday Spectacular (Sunday, Dec. 10 at World Café Live. Click here to order you tickets.) The first poem is all about the nostalgic images of Santa Claus. The second rejoices in the beauty of Christmas Carols. The third, I had planned, would explore the religious aspect of the holiday. This is what I wrote:

Hey Baby Jesus,
Cute Baby Jesus,
Lying in a manger,
Playing with some straw,
Die for our sins now and save yourself a lot of trouble.

Our director, Charlie, rejected it because it had too much of a "message." He also wanted something longer. So on a drive back from Swathmore late one might, Kurt and I rewrote it and made it into this:

Hey Baby Jesus,
Sweet Baby Jesus,
Lying in a manger,
Wielding a light saber,
Get in your Porche,
Wavin, to the honeys.
Wear lots of Gucci,
And a bitchin' nipple ring.
How ‘bout a man purse,
And lots of bling-bling.
Don’t forget Nintendo,
X-Box 360,
Sipping on the Grey Goose,
Staring at some titties,
Vomit in the gutter,
Run from the police,
Hide out in basements,
With all the junkies.
Shot in the stomach,
By a random stranger,
The world gets darker,
There go your sneakers.

If the fast life don’t kill ya,
The cross will.

Amen

Charlie didn’t like that one either. He thought it still had a sort of "message," was too long, and was also really, really bad.

For my third attempt I went in a completely different direction and handed in this:

A Mid December night
In the woods of Pennsylvania
There are stars up above me.
Like fires of inspiration
My breath on the crisp air makes the pattern of dreams.
The snow envelopes me like an old warm blanket
Comfortable and comforting.
No feeling in my fingers now.
My toes are turning black
That bright light coming towards me,
It must be the Spirit of Christmas

I can’t even comprehend why that little gem isn’t going to be in the show. So I didn’t even bother to read them this one:

Bail not the leaky skiff,
The man inside has no teeth.
He likes the taste of salty squid,
But the salty water chokes him as he drowns.

We have just over a week before the performance (remember, you can order your tickets on-line) and we still don’t have the third poem yet. I’m not too worried. I’m an artist and can crank out these poems in a matter of minutes. I’m sure whatever Charlie approves of will be the ideal length, devoid of any "message," and will fit perfectly with our sketch about Santa having sex with a random stranger.

- CPW

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