Local Laryngitic Leper Alarms Barista

Speaking of shutting me up, I seem to have lost my voice. Professionally, not a good thing. I sound like a dolt when croaking out orders for my team. It sounds like sort of a cross between a difficult puberty and a ghostly haunting. . .

My local baristsa seems to think it may be contagious, she now utters "Dios mio" whenever I arrive in her line for my morning pickup. I have tried to allay her germy fears, but alas, my throaty utterances only make it worse, so my charming assurance, "Really, I'm not contagious" comes out sounding like "You will die in three days time. . ."



Looking at it from a strictly cynical wit point of view, losing my voice is not necessarily a bad thing. For the moment, it helps keep my acidic musings in check for when my "appropriate comment" filter is overloaded with all the neat things I could say, but shouldn't.

I hate being sick. It seems like more often than not this last year. On the plus side, I can still scribe dazzling titles to my posts, (maybe I should be on staff at the New York Post) which tells me I still got a little life left in me. . .

SA

How to shut Sarcasm Abounds up

A dinner at Morimoto last night, too much wine and Japanese cocktails, preaching on about the future of search marketing , blah blah blah. . . Apparently a little known effect of combining those two liquors together can turn Sarcasm Abounds into a self-righteous zealot.

I talked until I was hoarse, and now my voice has been reduced to a husky, Kathleen Turner-esque timbre to it at the moment.


Great.




Collini out.

Google Real time search works!

Well, well. It works as advertised:

Less than 5 minutes to show at top of results. I find that impressive. You know what this means, my sarcastic niblets. . .

I can saw what I want and broadcast to a global audience in real time!

Hello Readers.

Ok, I admit, it's been awhile. It's not that I don't have anything snarky to say, it's just that I have a lot of other stuff do do now. In Colorado, I could finish a days work by 11 am, giving me plenty of time to muse. Now in NYC, I gotta move my ass to to keep up.

All that may be interesting or not, but the main reason I dropped by today was to see if I could prove if Google's real time results were working yet as advertised.

So, let's say something that should be considered unique content:

Sarcasm Abounds triumphantly returns to his sarcastic throne, to mete out cynical judgements and justice on the numbed masses.

Sufficiently interesting, Let's see what the Google algorithm thinks. It's 3:25 EST on December 9th, 2009. I'll check back in when I see it post to top Google results.

Speaking of Moving Your Ass

So, hours after my last snarky post, I am reading on the train en route to my shadowy lair. Suddenly, a gloom-filled voice crackles over the PA system. "Attention Passengers, Attention! A suspicious package has been found on this train. We are evacuating this train, NOW! Please exit this train, NOW!"

Wow.

9/11 wasn't so long ago that New Yorkers don't haul ass at the mention that they may be in danger. The fleeing torrent of humanity had taken me 100 yards away from the train in 40 flat.
In their collective defense, they did act nonchalant and bitch loudly about it, once they were a safe distance away.

I imagine that thirty minutes later, the bomb squad blew some poor lady's cashmere purchases to kingdom come....(And if you remember from yesteryear, the cashmere is more dangerous)...

Ah well. Safety first. Even if it means reminding you that you COULD DIE AT ANY MINUTE!!!

SA

New York Is Not For Lovers

If you ever met me (which is unlikely as I am garbed in comforting shadows) you would probably be assume that, despite my best efforts, I am a nice guy. Six months ago, I would always hold the door open for you, regardless of gender. I always say "please" and "thank you," generally remember birthdays and anniversaries well, and try to be a helpful human being. I generally hold back the biting wit and dark thoughts, reserved for close friends and outlets such as this.

Skip ahead six months...

New York City. The Concrete Jungle. The City That never sleeps, etc. etc...

8.11 AM.

When the train doors (known as subway doors to you) creak open, I move my ass. Thousands of other well-dressed lemmings are pouring from every orifice on the train, and there is only one outlet on my 53rd and Lexington stop: a three story climb to the surface, either via escalators or some steep-ass stairs. No one is talking, everyone is just queuing into the funnel to begin our ascent. Every morning, I hum "Sixteen Tons"to myself as I climb step after step as fast as I can.

Once we hit the surface, free to go out separate ways, I break from the herd and hustle towards my office, slightly bent over, as if I am heading into a strong wind. My head down, I just move with the flow of other proletariat pedestrians. Every body knows their place in this dance, and we pull it off without flaw.

Until this:
The Thundering Herd screeches to a halt, blocked by these looky-loo lovers. They stroll right down the middle of the sidewalk, shambling aimlessly along, gawking at the sights surrounding them. "Look honey, a falafel cart, and over there, a faux handbag stand, and if we look in the nearby store windows, it's the exact same crap we can buy just about anywhere else we might be in our homogenized society. Neat!" (I may be paraphrasing)

They are completely oblivious to the pile-up of humanity they have created with their bottleneck.

My eyes dart quickly about, looking for an outlet to slip past. My only choices are edging past them by the dirty and sharp edged ubiquitous scaffolding on the right, or certain death by oncoming traffic on the left. I shuffled behind the slowpokes, seething at the delay.

Finally, as I was about to attempt human "Frogger" with the traffic, another trenchcoated denizen of the city just snapped, and said what I was thinking. "Fucking Move!!" he growled, and the startled tourists parted, and the logjam flowed between them.

As I slid past at my customary pace, I caught the woman's eye, and with a knowing look and small nod, she comprehended my meaning on my kind, nice guy face. Welcome to New York, stay outta my way, or I'll shank you. . .

I think I AM becoming a New Yorker!

SA

Circus Nomore Us

Hello Blogosphere. I'm back. Wow. Harder than I thought to just show up here and say that.

Let's see...what's new? Ahh yes, about three months after my last post, I was called up to the Big Show. In NYC now, shepherding a flock of of SEO/SEM geeks. My people. Same job, but now for clients all well known globally.

I'm sure I could blather on about the things that have happened in the meanwhile, but if I cover it, I'll go into a "flashback" post.


The main reason to return is to draw attention to and mourn the loss of a cultural icon: Circus Animals has gone on to that three-ring circus in the sky. Since childhood, this colorful treat has comforted me, and many a frosted little animal has met their end in my gullet. My parents would never buy me something this garish and delicious, they were more of the macaroon type of folk. (*Urp*) I can't even say the word "macaroon" (*Urp*) without gagging. . . They may not have been high-flautin' cookies, but I would like to think of them as Redneck Ambrosia.


When I first lived on my own, this was my treat of choice, partly for their buttery goodness, partly because I couldn't afford Oreos.

Now the end has come my friends. The economy has claimed a new victim. Their parent company, Mother's has closed their doors. They cite the cost of sugar and flour skyrocketing, but I know the real reason. I haven't bought a bag of them for five years.



I'm sorry I let you down, Circus Animals. I'll miss the frosted goodness and sprinkles to lick off my hand...

Of course, by NOT eating these trashy delectables, I will most live longer. I just won't enjoy it as much...


SA

P.S. Some other blogs of concerned citizens lamenting the fate of Circus Animals:

Dessert First

The Naked Loon

Baking Bites

P.P.S. Thank you for all the nice posts and well-wishes from my readers over this last year. Sorry I never responded to them, and there were quite a few more of you other there than I even dreamed of.

I Quietly Slink Back. . .

With no announcement and little fanfare, I quietly slink back. I want to thank each and every one of you who commented or sent me an email, and wished me well. I was terribly sick with this cold/flu combo pack (anyone who has had it this season can testify,) and it knocked me flat. But that is not the only reason I have been absent. . .

A bit of a tough holiday season for me and mine, and I just didn't know how (or want)to present it in a blog format I was comfortable with.

My spouse and I are enduring the trials of infertility, and the ordeal of in vitro. This was our third time with no success, and it has been tough to find ways to console her in this time of personal grief. There are of course bigger and more horrible things to endure in this life, but this has been the biggest one so far for my marriage, and not really sure how to describe the tough spots we are navigating through. . .like commercials about babies every two minutes, parents melting down on their kids while shopping, forced close contact with family during the holidays while getting the inevitable incessant "How'd it go? How'd it go?" All served as reminders of a life we most likely will never have.



All of this was expected and frankly, unavoidable. But I could not find a way to be snarkily musing while really bummed out. I remember how sad I was when one of my favorite bloggers, The Domestic Minx, just dropped off the face of the earth. I thought to myself that something very tragic must have happened to abandon her loyal fans, otherwise we would have heard by now. After I dropped off for awhile, it became clear how easy it was to let go while I hid out.

If it is any small consolation, you loyal readers are not the only ones I have been ducking. I don't think I have made more than one public appearance since Jan 1st, much to the annoyance and chagrin of my pool of loyal friends.

I apologize to those of you who came to be entertained, there are enough blogs on personal pain that I wanted to create something different, and I have not been able to be true to that end. However, if you bear with me, I shall slowly return to my former fun self.

Rereading this, not my best post ever, but hey, I'm rusty. Sue me.


SA

P.S. For those few who were looking to contact me directly, the best way will still be sarcasmabounds AT gmail.com. This will forward to where ever I am.

grrr...sick

I hope you are all having a lovely holiday season. We had a white Christmas here in Colorado, and have 8 inches of snow on the ground. I now have a wicked cold to go with it. Sorry for the slow posting, I will try to be back up to the 2-3 a week postings soon.

SA

Someone else could use your support today

While trying to catch up on my neglected blogging friends, I found this sorrowful news on blogging icon Bossy's blog.

If you have a moment, please stop by Bossy's and think good thoughts for the recovery of her daughter.



SA

PS Decided to remove Bossys daughter's picture here, it seemed creepy for me to post it without Bossy's consent.

HP Webcam by Revlon?

I just realized that there is a streaming webcam built into my laptop above the monitor. As I am not shooting a porno, what the heck is it good for?



Then, another use dawned on me. Come on girls, tell me true - would you use it as a make-up compact??

SA

A Bone to Pick with Colbert Nation

While I have pledged to keep posting about Stephen Colbert at least once a week, I see that it has been more than a week since my last post. Looks like I owe you two this week.

This one is an open letter to Stephen Colbert and his entourage:



God-King, while I remain one of the faithful, I have a bone to pick with you and your "#1 and #2" fan site, Colbert Nation. While you are basking away on some Bermuda beach, your nation's website is quickly spiraling out of control. Since the writers strike began, there have been no new postings here, perhaps to show solidarity with you, which is fine.

However, even with the void that has been created with no new news on the website, there are still many who comment on the last post. I first noticed them when I found a link from the Colbert Nation's comments to my little blog, which I greatly appreciated, however my appreciation soured when I began to read through the other comments and find quite a few anti-Semitic and racist posts spread throughout the comments.

From my very first post for this blog, "The Sweet Midwest Girl" I made it clear where I stand on racism, be it actively hostile or passively permissive.

Now Stephen, I know you aren't responsible for every annoying poster that feels the need to spread nonsense and hate, but I absolutely hold you and you due-designates responsible for not policing your public posting site. If you promote it, and it sells your products, you need to take a moment from in absentia and make someone deal with it. This is for the betterment of all, but especially the children. What is more American than that?

Take this happy young lad, for example:



This is JCH, the son of my blogging pal Meleah from Momma Mia, Mea Culpa. You are a hero of his. While he is enjoying your new book, what if he decides to head over to Colbert Nation to see what else you might have that is interesting? What is he going to think if he reads some of the hateful bile some posters have left?

I promise it won't take more than a few minutes for you to sort this out, and you can climb back up on your golden throne to pass judgement on all you survey. Otherwise, I will be forced to declare my blog the #1 and #2 fan site, as I am serving up fresh and racist-free content on all things Stephen Colbert.

Respectfully,

SA