Take Advantage of YOURSELF!

I'm a motivational speaker now. When I brought it up to my boss at work, she was skeptical. She was like, "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you serious?" I said, "I like salsa music, but that doesn't make me a jokester." See, that kind of strength comes from within. The spirit drives all of you. Without a strong core, you are just mealy apple matter. The core holds it together. So when you feel like life has dealt you a really shitty hand, build a card tower, and then blow it down with one powerful breath from within like a mighty wolf. The world is full of pigs always trying to bring you down. You have to fight the powers that be. You can't let them build brick houses on your spiritual landscape, because that's your property. Put your heart and your soul first. You can do anything, but not before you know how to do it, so come see me this weekend only at the Minneapolis Radisson. Bring two friends and get a free Starbucks coffee.

Mmmmm BOP!

You are a fallopian tube in love with David Hasselhoff. You remember when you posed, thumbs up, sitting in the Knight Rider car at Universal Studios back in the 80s. You even spent $3.25 on a photo button of your superstar so that he could literally be close to your heart. You wish you were German. You wish you could gyrate to his music, but you can't. You are just a thumbless, heartless, hipless tube without the Hasselhoffian goods.

Bomb Ass Employee of Da Month

Da Bomb Ass Employee of da Month is back, yo! After my long ass vacation, I was pretty sure the people at work missed me and the enormity of work I churn out by the minute, but no. After my announcement at the front desk, sister payroll from cubicle 24 was like, "You got a nickel for my five cents?" All of a sudden I felt all average and shit, so I started doing paperwork at light speed to prove my worth, and my supervisor was like, "If you're going to play origami, I'll give you some work to do." I was like, "What, you mocking my Asian status or something?" She was like, "Nah," and she quickly backed off like I was her manager. Later, I felt bad, so I folded her a paper crane.

Los Angeles...

has a lot of wankers. Some were my friends, and we were kickin' it, non-smoking Los Angeles old school lounge style. There were these people on the road gettin' me and my homies all stressed out. They're all road rage and shit, because they're insecure and go around hatin' everyone all the time because their rides ain't all pimped out and they're all exposed through their non-tinted windows and shit. Let me tell you something: Pimpin' ain't easy. I ain't got that kind of energy, straight up. And that's why I kick it with the wankers behind the tinted shit.

Uh oh, Sylvia's got a case of the Mondays!

MONDAY: Waking up for work is such a drag...

TUESDAY: I hate waking up for this shit.

WEDNESDAY: I hate waking up for this bullshit.

THURSDAY: Oh, hell no.

FRIDAY: Where the fuck are my jeans?

Who makes you cool, baby, who?

Tom Jones, baby. He reaches my emotional core, leans on the frame of its door, and goes, "What's new pussycat?" And, like, I just DIE! Then I make him take me to JC Penny, and he buys me anything I want. On the way there--in a limo, of course--he'll sing his heart out. Sometimes, though, while he's singing, I'll be smiling and tapping my foot to the groovy beat, but inside I'm thinking, "Slow down. Damn, you'll get a hernia..."