Your Guide to Working With Higgy

Being that I work with a prominent Fortune 500 company, I come across a diverse group of individuals from all different walks of life everyday. With all of this diversity is the increased probability that one of these individuals will piss me off. As a professional courtesy to those I currently work with and those I may work with in the future, I've made the following guide to properly handle working with me. With a little common sense and some sense of humor, we can leverage our synergies, optimizing quality and time to market.





If you are fortunate, you may come across a talented, intelligent, and humorous individual such as myself at some point in your career. It is your job not to fuck up your shot at working with greatness. Please keep the following tenets in mind as you work with Higgy and he'll promise not only to actually help you out but won't bitch about you and your fuck-tard ways on his blog.


1) Play it straight with Higgy


Higgy has a knack for sniffing out douche hidden behind an seemingly air-tight facade of bravado and corporate jargon. If you don't know what you're talking about, don't talk. You've not only wasted Higgy's precious time, but you've made an instant impact on Higgy as he will no longer respect you nor be expeditious in completing any of your unimportant working requests.


2) If Higgy takes the time to instruct you, don't interrupt him with questions of minutia

If you think you're going to look smart by asking random questions instead of focusing on what is being taught to you, you'll end up looking like a dumbass when you ask Higgy questions over the material he covered. Get your head out of your ass, thanks.


3) Higgy is not motivated by heart-felt tales

Telling Higgy how much you love cats will follow with faked interest followed by a long, annoyed sigh. Using your victory over cancer as a talking point regarding the effort you bring to work each day not only puts off Higgy, but makes him devalue your worth in society.



4) If Higgy asks you a question, it probably is important

Higgy tries to figure shit out on his own but there are times he is smart enough to know other people may have some useful information. You should feel privileged to have received a question from Higgy as he feels you are competent enough to respond with a knowledgeable answer. Please don't change Higgy's perception of you by either not responding or taking your sweet ass time responding. Karma will probably come to bite you in the ass when your question comes Higgy's way.

5) Hawaiian t-shirts in the workplace do not command respect, but demand ridicule

If this isn't self-explanatory to you, don't bother reading further as you are a lost cause.


6) Your lack of planning does not constitute urgency on Higgy's part

This usually happens when you neglect to answer one of Higgy's questions or make the fatal assumption that Higgy will drop whatever it is he is doing to service your needs. Higgy is not your corporate prostitute and isn't paid well enough to drop your trousers and felate you on command. Therefore Higgy's response will be that of disdain and will "push-back" on your request until he deems it fit to make it his priority. You may as well pack a lunch as you should be prepared at this point to wait a long ass time.



7) Deodorant is an unwritten but necessary part of business casual attire

Higgy has been carpet bombed by the foul odor one too many times by co-workers to overlook this important detail. As much as Higgy needs his nose hairs to be cinged, he really does not feel like gagging while trying to work. Common courtesy for others is crucial to working with Higgy.

8) If you think it is slightly funny, it probably isn't

More likely than not, you're not funny. So don't try to be something you're not.


9) If you say something stupid, Higgy's facial expressions will inform you

Higgy like everyone isn't perfect. One of his flaws is that when he hears bullshit from a colostomy bag, he can't hide his contempt behind his chiseled good looks. So don't be alarmed when you see a strained look on Higgy as if he is passing the Rock of Gibraltar through his anal cavity. He is just trying to spit something out of his ass that smells better than the shit coming out of your mouth.

10) If you wouldn't normally associate with Higgy after work hours, please don't befriend him on Facebook

There are some people Higgy does want to associate with during his after hours. These people know who they are. If you are unsure of your standing in this regard, you probably don't fall in this category.

11) Getting to know your executives via blog = more ammunition for ridicule

Higgy doesn't really need to know you're a single man in your 40's blogging about his dogs and displaying your teenage school girl playlist. Let Higgy make the assumption you're a creep, don't confirm it for him.

As long as you show courtesy toward Higgy and others, act intelligently and don't act like a general nozzle, working with Higgy should be an enjoyable experience for you.

Unfortunately this is asking a lot of the people I work with....

My Awesomely Gay Adventure

It seemed a lot of firsts occurred in my life during my 21st year of life. I had my first real kiss. I finally started drinking and enjoying it. I lost my virginity. I got my first blowjob. I had my first heart break. Needless to say I was a late bloomer. However these things are nothing but a vague memory in my past. However something occurred during that year that every once in awhile rears its ugly head back into my consciousness. This memory is my first experience with gay culture.

Now don't get me wrong (famous last words), I have no problem with gay people and actually find them to be quite humorous. Being in a fraternity and working in Corporate America, I've made several friends who happen to be gay. What people do is their perogative and doesn't bother me as long as they aren't douchebags. However being a straight man in a gay man's territory is an awkward, awkward feeling.

Let me give you the setting. It was New Year's Eve. I had just transferred to Ohio State. I did not have very many friends who enjoyed going out. The night starts out drinking at my friend B's house. There was much drinking and enjoyment going on, including beer pong which happens to be my weakness. After awhile my friend B asks me if I want to go to a bar. I tell her I'm down to continue drinking at another venue. Being that my friend B is straight, I never thought I would have to have her clarify the type of bar we were attending. This is a question I regret not asking. None the wiser, I hop in the cab she called and we head downtown.

The reason the cab drive is memorable is because I had one of the more awkward phone conversations in my life during this ride. Foreshadowing, perhaps? Anyways B's sister ends up calling her and asks her to put me on the phone. Now prior to this conversation, I had only a few interactions with this girl. I found her physically repulsive, uninteresting and somewhat psycho, so I really had no reason to give her the time of day. Let's just say hobgoblin-like does not quite describe her features well enough. Well somehow the goblin found my general dickishness to be an attractive quality and thus spent the next 5 minutes professing her love for me over the phone. I was too shocked by this to respond in a dickish manner. So I just told her she wasn't in love and I definitely wasn't interested. This response wasn't taken too well by her and she proceeded to say how ugly she was and how she wasn't worth anything and how she should just off herself. Things in hindsight I completely agree with, but I didn't need goblin blood on my hands to I attempted to comfort her and get myself out of this situation. I eventually handed the phone back to B with the "Holy fuck what just happened?" look.

So the night couldn't get worse from there right? Just you wait. The cab ride ends and we stop in front of this bar with a drag queen out front. It still didn't hit me. Then I see the line outside with men holding hands and talking about fashion in their effeminate voices. It hits me. I'm going to a gay bar. Fucking. Awesome. I hope your sarcasm detector is on.

Well I didn't want to get into a cab by myself and head back alone. I also didn't want to stop drinking especially after the suicidal orc tried to woo me. So I got in line, paid cover and had a life changing experience.

I warn you I may get Tourette's on you going forward. We get in and I quickly find the bar, grab B and myself a drink and then attempt use her as my safety net from the gays. Well that plan just back-fired because they all thought she was my hag. Piss out my ass. Then I made the error in my drunken state to begin dancing with B. Well this just acted as a dick magnet. Fuck shoes. Dudes would walk by, make comments about my ass and one even grabbed it as he walked by. Now I know what hot chicks at a bar deal with. However I just couldn't be upset with the dude because he just thought I was gay and I was in his territory. I also couldn't blame him because my ass is pretty fucking spectacular.

After this, we head to the upstair's bar because I honestly need another drink to deal with this night. I don't remember exactly what I drank, but since I was in a gay bar, I probably felt free to order some fruity ass shit. When in Rome, right? I can hear the voices in my head now, "Higgy you gay bitch" as I write this. It definitely didn't help assert my hetero-masculinity. Also what didn't help is the fact some dude, hired by the bar, was stripping. Jesus Cock-Sucking Christ. Before any dong dropped, we headed back to the downstairs bar.

At the bar, a dude, who probably could snag some Grade-A red snapper, proceeds to tell B he thinks I'm cute. This conversation ensued:

Higgy - "Sorry man, I'm straight."
Dude - "I was straight once. I could help make you gay."
Higgy - "Thanks but no thanks. I like pussy."

The guy was very persistent. So much so he hit on me in front of his midget boyfriend, who seemed to have lost a lengthy battle against the Ugly Tree. Obviously that guy was a catcher. When Catcher started bitching to the Pitcher, the Pitcher began to make out with him and while doing so attempted to grab at my ass and then grab at my package. I had to go Heisman pose on his ass and throw the stiff-arm. No means no, prick.

Now after all of the fruity drinks I had been throwing down throughout the night, I faced another problem. Where the fuck do I piss? I sure as hell wasn't going into the men's bathroom where the line was long to get drugged and wake up with a new asshole. And when you hit that wall you can't hold your piss for very long. So I did what any quick-thinking straight man would do. I went in the women's bathroom. Smartest decision I made all evening.

I was greeted with open arms as two lesbians began to comment on how well I was dressed. They assumed I was gay so they weren't freaked out by the fact we were pissing in the same room. I didn't have to wait very long and the commode was very clean and didn't reek of anal sex. Jackpot.

At the end of the evening, B and I are waiting for some of her friends to towel off so we wait in the Hag Zone. This guy starts talking to me and appreciates my open-mindedness to all of this. I couldn't really say ,"I came here unaware of the place's gayness, that I'd see no attractive women and I would have men grabbing at me." So I put up with his speech about intolerance while seeing his overweight hag friend with red-hair make out with a gay dude. Beggars I guess can't be choosers. And if you're a gay dude and have to settle for making out with a chick in a gay bar, you my friend have failed in life. We finally leave the bar, I head home with so much of an anti-boner I grew some labia, and I pass out asshole intact.

As I retell this story from time to time, I'm told I should view the gays hitting on me as a compliment. And honestly I can't knock 'em for great taste. I can however knock them for trying to grab at the goods with getting to know me first.

I'm not just a cum dumpster. I'm a person too.

Keeping My Bastard Ways in the Virtual World

I had a dream once. My dream was to make the greatest video game ever, combining a vivid story with superfluous violence and a massive amount of debauchery. Well some brilliant fucker named Peter Molyneux beat me to the punch. He's created a masterpiece called Fable 2. In this game you play a boy or a girl who grows up to be a hero and avenge the death of his or her sibling. The path you get to becoming a hero is yours to choose. You can practically do whatever you want, kill/fuck/marry whoever you want, and make a profit from anything/anyone. Well being that I am an asshole, I chose to stretch the definition of the term hero and become the biggest bastard possible. Here is a list of the events that transpired between the time my sister got gatted in the face by some prick named Lucien to the time I found Lucien and had my rifle send him to Jesus, who then forwarded him to Moses and cc-ed him to Allah (Thank you Young Jeezy for that gem).

- After growing up in a gypsy camp, I left the homestead and became a blacksmith to start collecting the funds.

- Bought some fly ass gear that made me look like a regal buccaneer.

- Started to get some vagina marinating with my fly ass gear.

- No women at this time would sleep with me without being engaged and having a house, so I got my real estate on.

- Married a woman who already was taken by some douchebag. I nicknamed her "My Sloot" and since I didn't have a rubber handy (you do have the choice of using protection) I impregnated her with my son who I appropriately named Trojan.

- Accrued some wealth to pick up a second house and a second broad and a second child. As a warning, I did not ever find out where rubbers were sold. This is a common theme in my adventures in this game. This one was a bar maid in some hick ass town.

- The Bar maid was not happy with the fact I solely used her as a fuck hole and left me. Her bitch ass also caused some glitch in the game so that I could not sell the house or rent it out to some bastard. I still used this as a fuck pad for random drunk sloots when I finally realized I didn't have to marry them to use them as cum depositories.

- In this game you can be gay so I kinda wanted to see what would happen and how people in the game would respond if I did in fact screw a dude. So I bring some flamer back to the ole fuck pad but the game would not let me commence in the old pitch and catcher routine. So I did what I felt was my only choice, I offed the dude with one swing of my mallet. The dude squealed and brought me back to that famous scene in Deliverance. Hate crimes in video games, that's a first.

- A warning pops up in the game saying watch out for unprotected sex because it increases your chance of getting an STD. Go figure huh? At this point forward, I try to fuck everything in my path to see how many STD's I can accumulate over the course of a game.

- This game has it all, including cults. So I join the Temple of Shadows. In order to get in I had to eat 5 live baby chicks in front of the gatekeeper. Then in order to become an upstanding member of the congregation I had to make random sacrifices to the Wheel of Fortune. The wheel determined the manner in which the sacrificial lamb would get got including incineration, shock therapy or a vicious stabbing.

- My first sacrifice ends up being the third woman I proposed marriage to but instead of bringing her to another house, I brought her to the temple to get got. As she got stabbed, I yelled "Psyche!" I'm bringing it back. She thought she was going to get some of my Shawn Kemp money but I told her "Like Doritos that's not-yo cheese."

- I get to this place which has a bunch of prostitutes so I keep on hitting that shit raw but I don't see any notification that I got an STD. This upsets me greatly so I keep in my pursuit of the clap.

- I become an assassin to start making more money. The reasons these people have a price on their head is pretty hilarious. One person was requested to be killed because she talked too much. Sounds like justifiable homicide to me.

- Health potions are tough to come by sometimes, but since I have money I buy a lot of food to get my health up including filet mignon pies. That shit makes this evil cracker a fat ass evil cracker. The various women I continue to pork begin to complain that I am crushing them. All this tells me is that I am an uncreative lover and only like the missionary position. This game still has room to improve.

- Because I'm not evil quite enough I become a slaver. Much like a pedophile, I lure an unsuspecting victim into a trap where two men jump them and lock them in a cage. I'm all about that money.

- Finally, after all of the crap I put my first wife through, her and Trojan left me. Can't really blame the broad. Immediately after this I rented out the place she vacated. I knew I could find a way to profit from this somehow. I also found a new woman, wifed her, impregnated her, and farted in her face because she seemed to like it. She also liked it when I thrusted my pelvis in a vulgar fashion in her direction. I like this girl. She definitely won't get sacrificed...yet.

- I sneak into Lucien's lair for some reconnaissance only to become a prison guard for about 10 years. I end up starving at least three prisoners to death and offing a fellow prison guard.

- I notice the logbook which tracks my character's actions, likeability, successes and many other stats including murders and sexual exploits. Looks like I did in fact pick up an STD...five of them to be exact. I screw one more whore commando to pick up my sixth.

- In between all of this fucking and murder I do complete quests to progress myself through the game and I eventually get to that rat bastard Lucien and shoot him in the face. I then have a choice of saving all of those murdered by him, saving my family or being incredibly wealthy. Obviously I pick the wealth. All of Albion hates me, but I am alright with that.

- With my riches, I buy a castle and find a potion in the castle that allows me to change my sex. Of course I had to do so, hoping to become a raging dyke.

I have not played since the sex change but I have a feeling I'm going to come back to this game. You can't make up this type of shit.

Greatest. Game. Ever.

Vote Obama in and I promise that he won't turn into some Uncle Thomas

If you love rap like I does, then you got to watch this parody of A Milli by Lil Wayne.



Perfect.

I have fallen and I can't get up

So it's a Saturday night and my hangover from my previous night's adventures just subsided enough at 9 pm for me to begin thinking about how I ended up puking all day. What a long, awkward yet glorious day I had yesterday. Let me begin.


I had an appointment to go a sports medicine doctor because I had a nagging injury whenever I played any sports. Whether it was basketball, soccer or football, I always felt like I had pulled my groin and no amount of stretching before and after would help fix it. So I decide, with a gentle nudge from my nurse girlfriend to do something about it.


When I get to the doctor's office I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork and wait 30 minutes after the time of my appointment for him to stroll on in all non-chalant without any notice nor care of the time he has already wasted of mine. This is normal for American health-care but I'm not going to rant about that. The final diagnosis is my main concern here. I tell him my issue and he performs a number of tests to determine where the pain actually resides. When you're injured due to your inflexibility, you really want a doctor to pull some contortionist shit on you. I feel the pain as I am writing this. His diagnosis is that I need an X-Ray. Awesome, more money pissed away.


At the time I was pissed that I had to get an X-Ray but an X-Ray of your pelvic region is an awesome thing to discuss with your doctor. The whole time he is trying to show me the region where my injury is, and I am just mesmerized with how huge my cock looks in the x-ray. Its silhouette took over the whole screen and the doctor was too much of a hater to recognize greatness. Fuck being professional. I plan on requesting the image on my next visit for my keeping.


So finally after I zoned back into the conversation, the doctor told me that it looked like I had a stress fracture in my pelvis. You have got to be fucking kidding me. I am 25 years old and my pelvis should be well intact until my 70's. Of course he has to get an MRI on it to confirm. Awesome more money to be pissed away. It better give me a 3-D image of my dong.

So obviously when I told my friends I got a variety of responses:

"What the hell did (my girlfriend) do to you? It should be her pelvis
you're pulverizing, not yours. Are you a bottom?"

"How does she feel about not getting any for awhile? Let her know I can play stunt cock."

"Osteoperosis at age 25, God you suck."

"Man you were breaking people's ankles with a broken pelvis, damn that shit is cold son."

"You probably got it from having to carry that big cock of yours
around."

Ok, I had to clean up some of their responses because honestly my friends really aren't that witty. However one of those statements above was completely made up. Can you guess which one? I can tell you right now you are going to guess incorrectly.

So how do you properly celebrate a broken pelvis on Halloween? You get annoyingly intoxicated, dress up as an Arab Sheik, and go to a Halloween party with your co-workers. How would Higgy dress up as an Arab Sheik you ask? he would take the following items:

- a Wal-Mart toga costume
- a head band
- the nicest towel you have

He would then remove the sash from the Wal-Mart toga, place the towel on his head (yes I know it's racist and it was not intended but an awesome bonus) and place the head band on your head to secure the towel. Then he wouldn't shave for a couple days so he can grow out his patchy ass beard because he hasn't hit puberty yet Then he would listen to most ignorant Arab song out right now, Arab Money by Busta Rhymes, to get his accent correct. The following events would then occur, most of them under the influence of plenty of alcohol.

- Yell Allah as if it started with an H at every cup made in beer pong
- Chant made up Arabic in the streets
- Do the airplane soccer celebration followed by a crash into a building yelling "Hallah!"
- Dance in Arab Sheik style, which requires more made up Arabic chanting followed by weird hand signs, head bobbing, and more G5 airplane impersonations.
- Talk about your anticipation of your 73 vestal virgins in the afterlife.
- Use your towel as a prayer rug.

The last one I'm not very proud of, but that should tell you the lengths at which I will go to stay in character. Surprisingly not too many people at the party were offended and most people were enjoying it. I'm an asshole. I keep digging myself closer to Hell and dragging everyone else with me.

Pictures and video to follow.