So this, post was going to be based on a “if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em” theme. It was going to consist of precisely one joke, which I shall make now to get it out of the way because the deluge of trouble caused by the joke is actually far more amusing than the joke itself.
Here is the joke.
My WoWcock: let me show you it:
Yeah, I warned you it was cheap. But it was going to have more of a build up, which would have made all the difference, I promise. I was going to be all “admire the sleek and mighty beast that is my WoWcock. Ta-daaaa!”
But, anyway, in order to facilitate this cheap joke, I took a lot of WoW screenshots last night. My laptop was bought on the assumption of travel and libraries and Great Works of Genius, rather than obsessive MMORPG playing (yeah, who was I fooling) , so my screenshots always look like shite anyway. But if you’re going to do a job – even if that job is taking pictures of a chicken in WoW – you should do it right. I emailed the best of them from myself to myself, from the gmail account I use for the majority of my blogging to my actual grown up, I am a real person affiliated to an organisation email address. So that, this morning, instead of doing any of the things I ought to be doing, I could instead wax eloquent about my WoWcock and post pictures of it on the Internet.
I don’t know in what world, at what late hour of the night, this seemed like even a remotely good plan.
Seriously, what is wrong with me?!
To partially account for my own rampant idiocy, I should emphasise that I’m not connected to the Ministry of Peace from 1984, or anything, so internet traffic and email is not what you’d called stringently monitored.
However.
If you email yourself about 20 large-ish JPEGs, all of which are called some variation on “wowcock”, (wowcock 1, wockcock2, wockcockagain, yetmorewowcock) it is liable to hit a few switches and cause even if the most lax and open minded of computer officers to raise a concerned brow.
I had a slightly awkward meeting this morning in which I found myself trying to explain firstly that I hadn’t been either virused or hacked and secondly why I was apparently trying to filter vast amounts of porn through the email system a world-leading university.
Or rather, that I was not.
“Oh no,” quoth I, “most assuredly, it’s not porn. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that stupid. I mean, err, I’m not into that.”
“Oh yes?” returned they, with a ‘pull the other one, it’s got bells on’ kind of look. “What is it then?”
“It’s, um, it’s … lots of pictures of a chicken. From World of Warcraft, which is often abbreviated to WoW. It’s not like I was trying to say “oh, wow, chicken!” Or err, “oh wow, cock!” I should probably have named them chicken, really, shouldn’t I? And maybe sent myself them to in lesser quantities. Or maybe not at all. Can I go now?”
So they looked at my WoWcock and, lo, did it look small and inadequate under the harsh glare of the Mean Computer Officer Who Hates Me And Now Thinks I’m A Total Idiot.
Credibility rating = 0.
Maybe even into negative figures.
But, on the plus side, I am flush in pictures of what I am now thinking of as my oh wow cock.
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
It's either DIE or LAUGH, so I went with laugh. Also some other WoW players have come out of the closet as a result which is positive
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
Thank you kindly – I'm glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I'll be reading 
The meeting itself went, as all unfortunate meetings involving me tend to go, with me babbling and making the situation worse, and doing /bashful repeatedly, in the hope my sheepish charm might count for something (it didn’t). I’m rather glad the meeting was not, in any way at all, recorded =P
“or the OhWowCock, which makes me think of my trip to New Orleans for reasons I won’t go into”
Do you really expect to be able to make comments like that and get away with it? =P
Thank you for appreciating my WoWcock. You are truly a connoisseur. Assuming it ever recovers from its misadventures today, I will certainly make an effort never to venture forth in WoW with it undisplayed for the edification and entertainment of the populace.
I’ve been reading, and enjoying, your blog for a while now actually – I just haven’t commented (no idea why, actually, because I think some bloggers most go in fear of my merciless and inane ramblings
).
I am worried at the notion of multiple WoWcocks running absurdly around Shattrath… after all, to lose one WoWcock may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose several looks like carelessness.
I think poor Oscar is turning in his grave right about now. I should stop butchering him in the name of WoW.
Possibly, however, he was right on the button in The Truth About Masks – of course, if we do accept there is truth of the essential self in the mask provided by the internet we also have to accept the fact our essential selves are complete tards
Heal pls!
(been on a Wilde bender, have you?)
“Do you really expect to be able to make comments like that and get away with it? =P”
Imagine the most hilariously perverted story that could possibly be construed to involve the phrase.
No, that’s not what actually happened, but it’s probably more entertaining that what actually happened, so let’s go with it.
Zaphind, I too suffer from this repressive behavior from my co-workers who I shall consider BLASPHEMERS until such time as the travel to the world of Azeroth
Maniacal Laffing at Tam’s well thought words FTW! This blog makes me day!
Indeed. My WoWcock is happily possessed of a silver lining. Ouch. I suppose I could have done the big build up AND the anecedote of my own stupidity but I think the latter would have eclipsed the former.
I’m glad to have amused you – also if you work in a cubicle, it sounds like you need all the help you can get
I know have metal scarring due to the picture you painted of Shattarath awash in WoWcocks, running willnilly, and then becoming lost. That’s quite painful. The loss of one’s WoWcock cannot be taken lightly.
Oscar is Horde. He can deal with butchering
The Truth About Masks underlines the truth about our inner selves, no question about it. Consider small children no older than 3, how well they share and play together. Not. At. All.
Well to be a civilized and educated Orc one MUST read Wilde
Now where have I misplaced my monocle
Erudition on my blog?! I hear you can get antibiotics for that.
Glad to have mused
Actually I’ve just thought, Ecgric is venturing petless into the world! You should get him something, so he’s not such a lonely skeleton.
Don’t worry, laughter very much encouraged, and I’m glad to have amused. I was laughing at myself because it was such an absurd pickle to get myself into.
I shall monitor my hits carefully – although they’re usually disappointing (sissy dress? It’s a ROBE, I tell you, a ROBE!)
Well, you’ll just have to try harder. With a little dedication, even the most upstanding citizen can get himself accused of porn-trafficking at work.
I really should. I’ll have to find an appropriate pet. I guess I could go for a cockroach in UC. Heh. Then he could be MY Wowcock(roach).
Thank you kindly – I’m glad my pain and mortification is good for something
The pixelated executioner is an excellent name for a blog – I’ll be reading
[...] at the Back in My Sissy Robe (a newish blog I’ve recently found and am reading) posted an epically hilarious (yet a smidge embarrassing) story of emailing screenshots to himself and having to explain to the [...]
[...] 17. One of Tamarind’s first post I read (which easily became one of my favorites) featured him getting caught at work with pictures of what? His WoWcock [...]