Monday, August 29, 2005
Yeah, so vacation was good, not overly remarkable but good. New York City was urban and provided the backdrop for some good times and drama. It was good to see the old crew from school but I quickly realized sooner or later, we all move on. Maybe I was just in a mood cause it was hotter and more humid than Satan's asshole in Afganistan, in August. People are all doing well living their NYC lifestyles and I question whether or not they are happy but I'm also sure they ask the same of me, when they are thinking about me, and yes, I know they think of me.....beeyotches.
For the first time in a long time in my history of thinking and over thinking things, I finally figured something out. When I had my epiphany, it was such that I couldn't believe I had been such a fool for so long. The long and short of my revelation being, "life is not over." I just need to tweak my ways of thinking. I managed to let go of a lot of shit, realized I have fucking awesome parents and am pretty lucky. Yeah, all this is very much worth the $15 co-pay to the shrink......fuck you Blue Cross!
Besides getting back into school, I really need to focus on my interpersonal relationships, ie. I need to get a date or two. I know this is asking a bit much but now that I am not living in the cave of despair, there is no reason to be so dark. I laughed when my friends in NYC asked me if I am ever happy or if I ever have a good day. "All the time" I responded, but I don't think they believed me. Who cares? This post is bullshit but I blame that on the bullshit corporate espresso I had earlier.
I hate the shuffle function on iTunes but I was able to find the remix of Mr. Brightside I was looking for so...kudos to Steve Jobs for getting something right.
I hope you all are well.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
For those of you who may read JJ's blog but not know me, I am Non Vocabulum, or a.k.a. Dena. Call me Zulu.
JJ asked me guest blog while he is away at his Space Alien Midget and Tranny Fuckfest Fantasy Camp in Sheboygan. I'm flattered.
So I was sitting around at work this afternoon pretending to grease the wheels that keep Canada rolling and came up with the top ten reasons why JJ will never be President of Canada. Check it out:
10. Needs a mouth full of raw potatoes before he can pronounce Nunavut.
9. Likes all things French, especially when it comes to feathers, food, and politics.
8. RCMP raided his trailer in '91 and foud bootlegs of One Night in Jean Chretien.
7. Thinks the Polkaroo is Canadian code language for kiddie porn.
6. Unlike the rest of Canada, believes Anne of Green Gables was simply a cocktease and not a rabid rugmuncher.
5. Feels Caitlin Ryan is to blame for Claude's tragic suicide.
4. Doesn't know the real meaning of "nice head."
3. Would rather die than rock out to Blue Rodeo on a lonely Friday night.
2. Thinks Native Indians were treated unfairly at one point in time.
1. "Pamela who??"
*whoever guessed Canada has a Prime Minister and not a Prez wins a free blowjob courtesy of . . .
Also, it just seemed like I was living in fucking bizzaro universe cause, there ain't no bar open until 4am. At one point during the night, my liver started to cry, as he thought this was going to be my last stand. I partied like a champ and managed to not play it off like a tenth grader, so even if this sounds like me trying to regale you with tales of,"look at how much I can drink..." It's more of, "I haven't had fun like this in a long time."
I didn't catch the bartender's name cause she didn't throw it but she was generous with the pour and so hot, she made me want to have a sex change operation so I could be the female she wants to hook up with. Vacation has been good. There have been some day trips around the city and some nights on the town. Morning is a time that doesn't exist here and I was thinking last night before I fell asleep, readjusting my body to the 6-3 lifestyle is going to be a royal pain in the arse.
I went and saw my friend Stacia in a a very funny satire of the weekly news. Topical humor set to music. The cast did a great job and Stacia was very,very funny in her portrayal of "Christian Once-a-Gay". The same night included a trip to McSorley's Old Ale House, which if you haven't been, I highly recommend....yes, even if you are not a drinker. McSorlery's is the oldest Irish Pub in NYC and the history in the place literally drips off the walls. We went with the dark beer and the cheese, onion and cracker plate and even though the place was filled with NYU knuckleheads, a good time was had by all.
Today myself and T-Sex & Cole are off to find the DC Comics Headquarters. T has it in his head that since he flew all the way out here from MN, they are going to give him the grande tour and introduce him to the Green Lantern. I guess we will see what happens. I have pictures to post but I am being considerate since I am not using my internet connection, computer or anything else that allows me to blog.
BPD- Don't hate the player, hate the game.
I hope you all are well!
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Word to S-Monkey!
I hope you all are well.
Anywho, I am off for NYC later today. I'm meeting up with old school peeps from college, some who have transplanted themselves to the Beast from the East, others who have always been repping the EC and some who are just in town to see what all the hullabaloo is about. Personally, I think I should be more excited over this vacation but Im not. I'm trying to get amped to see peeps but its going to be tough. I love catching up and reliving better times but the thought of staying home and reading books, blogging and having nothing to do but sleep, drink diet soda and make my own schedule, makes my pants tight. I'm sure it will all be fine once I get on the train, not like I will have much of a choice by that time anyway.
I have asked Dena from Nonvocabulum to guest blog while I am gone. I'll also be phoning in some audio posts, so between the two of us, we should be able to keep all 5 people who read this thing satisfied. I wish I had more cool stuff to tell you but I don't. I may be going to Yankee Stadium on this trip. I was gonna go in full Red Sox gear but being the guy I am, and chances are being with a bunch of musical theatre folk, reppin' the Red Sox Nation, might not be the best idea. Yeah...that's all I got for now.
I hope you all are well.
P.S. Don't speed through Smithfield, you WILL get pulled over.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
So...for the past six months, I have spent my days off either doing shit around the house or waiting for workmen to show up to do shit beyond my lack of home repair knowledge. Today, I was waiting for the fucking electric company to show up. They were going to turn the power in the apartment next door, back on. Whats even more effed up is that in order for them to do this, they needed to have the power in the apartment shut down. So, being the awesome handy-man-esque, Schneider from One Day at a Time wanna-be, I am, I go and pull down the lever to shut the Death Star down. What I didn't realize was that my electricity, for whatever reason, is tied into the box for the apt. next door. So while ragin', mangry, lectric-lesbian was doing whatever she needed to do with the meter, I was able to sit in my house and watch my life flash before my eyes from heatstroke.
Yeah, an afternoon of heat stroke was awesome. Now I'm on my way to Home Depot to pick up a 5 gallon bucket of spackle, so I can pull down 200 years worth of wallpaper and then respackle the walls. After that's good and dry, when I get home from work on Saturday, I get to start painting before I go on vacation next week. Color me postal. I am trying to find someone to guest blog while I'm gone but I can't make any promises.
I hope you are all well.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
So it’s 4:10pm and if this were six years ago, I’d be ten minutes away from waking up from my afternoon nap and getting ready to play Mario-Kart and pull bong hits until dinner. Marshall and I would then jump in his white, 1981, Dodge Diplomat and drive down to Kwik trip for gas station sandwiches & Mega-buddies, (the Midwestern equivalent of a Double Gulp from 7-11). Let me just say here that no matter how hungry you are, two ham and cheese sandwiches for $1.00 is never a good idea. Although I have to say I did enjoy the gallons of soda (it’s not pop, motherfuckers) one could buy for the price of the coins in your pocket.
From there, we would go down to Fink & O’Keefe’s for beer, bong hits and foosball. All in all there were lots of nights ending in a suds and green tinted haze. Good times were had by all and I never thought I would say this, but I’ve finally been over it for awhile. I never thought I would be able to leave my days of being a collegiate hero behind. My nights of partying like a rock superstar and days of stretching my intellect to the point where I was sure my brain was going to be converted to small pearl tapioca.
What brought all of this up, you ask? I’m not certain, but I think it may have something to do with the fact that most of my friends are going through, what seem to be early mid-life crisis-es. They are buying sports cars and getting divorced. There are Harley Davidson’s owned and trips to
So I ran into an old friend who used to hang out with the other two guys I hang out with. We all met for a drink and then decided that DD should come back into the fold. That’s fine, I’m all for the prodigal son returning. It’s good having him back but in a lot of ways, nothings changed. He’s still got to have the last word, let everyone know how much better he’s doing than they are and take shots at me, cause I am the weakest link in the chain. Yeah, having sex with two, hot, young 20-somethings is doing better than me, but then again, I don’t have to make $1800.00 / month in child support payments either. Have fun working two jobs….forever.
Case in point: I’m on my way to lunch with Crazy Joe and my dad. DD calls to tell me that he’s exhausted because he was up all night fucking and watching movies with the Chili-porkers. He tells me that delivering the mail is going to be tough because he doesn’t know if he has the strength to walk his route and on top of this, he has to work until 11:00 pm at the restaurant. Good times, good times. I told him it has to be a rough life to have two young women come over and sex you until unconscious and then get up and go to your job, where you make an obscene amount of money for walking around. I tried to cut it short because DD’s tales of hoover-manuevering and cunnilingus-ing were loud enough for all to hear. My chicken parm was a little less tasty but a good lunch overall.
Maybe someday my ship will come in and I can do something other than research, work and sleep.
I hope you all are well.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Hey there, I'm yer prezident. They tell me yer one of those fuckin' spellin' champs er sumthin?
but wait there's more...
I really wish I knew what in the hell Juan Valdez is saying over there, but I never learned to speak a lick of mexican.
but that's not all, you also get...
One time I told a lie this big. Well a lie this big really isn't a lie, it's more of a fib or a story really.
Ok, so I didn't...I mean don't lie...ever.
act now and I'll include international blunders of epic proportion!
This is a really cool pose I learned from some guys on my trip to Germany. The pretzels and sausages were delicious. My friends said they were the wurst, I don't know why. (I only choked once.)
Operators are standing by, act quickly...
And then, then there was this time I told a big ol' fuckin' lie about some new jobs er sumthin' and I got away with that fucker. People thought I was one cool customer the way I was commuticating that time.
Visa, Mastercard, Discover, AMEX, Diner's Club, Carte Blanche...
Laura really likes this one. She says it makes me look regal and like a dominating force. I have never been good at dominos and don't like pizza all that much, but what ever gets her panties off is ok with me.
Check, Money Order, NO C.O.D.
Members of Congress, esteemed colleagues, my fellow Amerikkkans, I come before you today to introduce you to my newest friend and confidant. Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to introduce, Heavy Metal Thomas Jefferson.
In just a few short days, I have received a wealth of great insight and ideas on how to solve many of nations dilemas. Heavy Metal Thomas Jefferson is also helping to guide my spiritual life as well as guiding us out of Iraq. I hope and trust you will give him the same trust and support you have given me.
God Bless Amerikkka and good night.
and then there was this one whopper of a fuckin' lie I made up about 9-11 & Saddam and Iraq and Weapons of Mass Destruction. I duped the American people into thinkin' their sons and daughters and mothers and fathers were dying for a noble cause. Best part about it was the whole fuckin' time...I didn't know my ass from page four about what was really going on.
It would be much funnier if it wasn't all true.
I hope you all are well.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
First order of business: Let's not be bangin' on Jason Varitek for only hitting his first grandslam this week, the dude has a lot to do being catcher and trying to keep that bunch of yahoos in line.
Second: Getting out collective asses kicked by the Minnesota Twins. The only thing I have to say about Friday night's game is, "No matter how much "potential" the Red Sox organization feels you have Mr. Arroyo, for $1.85 million a year, you need to be able to throw from the mound to second base and not fuck it up.
Sox versus Twins, Saturday 6, August, 2005:
Mr. Wells, as much as I love you, and the fact that you came to Boston from the Evil Empire, I have to put you on the hook for tonight's bullshit game. I don't know if you were feeling some of the effects of the voo-doo the Twins pitching staff was throwing out there. Maybe you were concerned with the fact that Tito wore out the fucking bullpen last night in a clobbering reminiscent of something out of the Fantastic Four, I don't know?
It was obvious you got in somewhat of a jam as they say, tonight. I don't fault you for that, it happens from time to time. It may be even mean and spiteful to bring it up, but the fact that we needed a runner to get hit by a ball in play to close out the inning...not good my friend. However all is not lost, I still believe in you and will hold off calling you, "Fatty" like everyone else for a little while. P.S. Ease off on the twinkies.
To my friends from college, from Minnesnowta, from the land of 10,000 lakes, "eat a fucking dick." You wanna waste your precious cell phone minutes calling to razz me about my beloved Red Sox struggling a little, that's fine. Football season is around the corner and I will be more than happy to talk with you when the Vikings are gagging like an amateur porn star. To my peeps from Chicago and the surrounding suburbs, while I love the fact that you Cubby fans got NOMAH, don't get all smug when the Sox lose, cause when it comes down to it. The Red Sox had the greatest comeback in sports history last year, in Yank-me Stadium over the New York Yank-mes. Cubs fans, I feel for you for the catch heard around the world, by some jackass who just wanted a souvenir but don't rub it in, Steve Bartman would have never made it out of Fenway Park alive.
Other than the travesty that is Red Sox Nation, my weekend has been headache after headache after headache. My boss, who I have been friends with for about 15 years, who was able to get me my present job and away from the corporate hell of BankofAmerikkka, is trying to get me to drink myself to death. I don't mind going out for drinks once in a while or even once or twice a week , if one of those nights happens to fall on my weekend. The past couple of weeks have been filled with drinking 2-3-4 days a week. As someone who needs to be financially conscious of what I am spending on frivolous things like food and booze, I am also plagued by a incurable disease that is best cared for with a minimal alcohol intake. My friends fail to recognize this, and often goad me into drinking to daredevil extremes.
This is going to stop. Not cause I am afraid I have damaged my liver, kidneys or otherwise. I'd I was worried about this, I would have died from paranoia in college. It's going to stop cause I don't want to drink anymore. I'm not saying never again, I'm just saying it's not going to be a sport, pastime or hobby. Drink with dinner or on a date (if by some reason I get one) will be fine, but otherwise, I'm out. So, friend, pal, boss...I'm giving my two weeks notice to you and the bar staff at the drinketeria. I hope you'll understand.
I hope you all are well.
Friday, August 05, 2005
No fronts, no tricks
No soap box politics
No guns, just blunts, we kick this just for fun
Ok peeps whatcha’ want you get, J.J. Blog-ass-blog represent
I write with skills so act like you know
Listen to the way this ill shit flow
It’s not gonna be pretty, no pictures or nothing but there is at least somewhat of a tale to tell. Here goes nothing.
On what was my day off, I went into work for some agency-mandated training and other administrative sheeyat. For whatever reason, my co-workers on my unit and otherwise, were all about practicing the hand to hand shit and rolling around on the floor with each other. Not for nothing, but this is my day off, I’m not getting paid for being here, you can bet you sweet ass I’m not going to do anything that simulates work. So while the robot from training was spouting her nonsense, I did my best to work my Jedi magic to get people to actually talk, so we would not have to be dancin’ real close or real slow.
It took them all awhile but they finally picked up on what I was doing and in the long run, they were all on board, well all but one but fuck that guy. He hasn’t opened his mouth in 9 months. I bolted out of there screaming, like a gerbil from Mr. Gere’s asshole, the whole time trying to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my day. I got home and oddly enough, it was not hot enough to melt flesh. It was warm, don’t get me wrong but I was able to sit on the porch and continue reading This Boy’s Life, while getting some fresh air and sun.
I read for a while and then put my book down and thought some thoughts for what seemed like the better part of an hour. When I came to the natural wisdom I had been using for the past sixty minutes, dissipated like that $40 Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cone in August heat. I strolled back into the relative coolness of the one air conditioned room I have and took another government-mandated, climate controlled nap. There were dreams. Some were good, others not so much. I remember a whole bunch of lack-luster women laughing at me and belittling me because I didn’t want to have sex with them. What I would later find out was, this was going to be a precursor to somewhat of a skirmish later on in the evening.
When I awoke from nap, I sent a few gmails, made a few phone calls and downloaded some tunes I needed to hear. After awhile, the phone was blowing up with demons (people) trying to sink their claws into me. Trying to get me to the bar on a Thursday night. Yeah, right! I’m not saying I’m not social but when you have to save energy so you can work, one can’t be out till all hours of the night, drinking and doing God knows what. I went into deep cover mode. No phone, no email, no instant messenger. My away message was something to the effect of, “not right now, I’m thinking.”
Again there was another govt-mandated nap. I awoke about midnight and had some ambition to write. I perused all my normal blog stops and realized it was somewhat of a lazy day for everyone. I figured some coffee and food would help so, into the F1 I jumped. I went down swinging as the coffee-teria was closed, some 45 year old balding female ape tried to instigate me into a fist-fight at the Yuck Truck and of course just to cap off a good night time ride, I got pulled over, a little over a mile from headquarters. No justice in this world I tell you.
Today’s Goals: Mail some bills
Clean the house
Clean the fridge
Find out what it’s going to cost to get bicycle back on road
Plenty of climate-controlled, govt-mandated naps
I hope you all are well.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
There comes a time when even a job you enjoy elicits a response something akin to, "Jesus Hopscotch Christ, I need to stop looking at my watch!!!" I'll have to admit walking the yard makes me nervous. Granted, there is plenty of support, from the six towers of doom over looking the dusty knoll, but you never know who's napping behind those mirrored shades. While it wasn't record heat, it was hot enough for me to go through three litres of Pedialyte when ever I could get some poor slob to relieve me. No one wants to be the junk yard dog. My radio sqawked to life and before another sound was made there was a round in the chamber.
The L7 from D-Unit radio-ed in that one of theirs had sucessfully made a break for it. In many, many ways they would just be better off letting that one go. When my sentence in the yard was up, I hobbled back to J-Unit and due to lack of foresight and coverage and a bunch of other useless shit, assumed command. All I wanted to do was to sit in relative cool, listen to the transistor radio and bang out the shift paperwork. When 11 PM came around, I wanted to be gone like Jose Canseco's career. However, there is no rest for the wicked and the natives were restless. I got a bad feeling in the even worse foot and knew I would have to earn my $$$ for the rest of the shift.
Just before 8PM a "guest" strutted up to me and informed me they didn't like me. I apologized and said I liked them, but due to the nature of my job, I understood their animosity towards me. I was then told, "to watch my back cause I was gonna get fucked up." Great, not even two months pass since the last time, "I was fucked up" and here comes my turn again. Being in charge has one benefit, delegation. I assigned 2 other agents on the "guest" who felt I should be fucked and decided not to worry about it. This was my first mistake.
About ten minutes later as I was making my final sweep of the unit, I found the guest who was gonna fuck me up, alone in the rec area. It was eerily quiet and my spider sense was tingling. I wondered where my co-workers were and before I knew it, I received a sucker shot to the side of the head that had me reeling. I kept my feet under me and eyes open but other wise I felt about as strong as a cheap marionette. Another punch to the other side of the head. I was trying to figure out a way to use "agency approved" tactics on this mother fucker without getting stomped to death while the Crisis Intervention Team was deployed. I heard the doors pneumatically seal and knew I was alone. My coworkers decided to isolate me with a nasty, nasty guest rather than come and play.
Guesty threw another punch and I used my cat-like reflexes to duck out of the way and come up with a crippling upper cut. I took advantage of guests surprise and drove another punch to the forehead home. CIT was still 2 minutes out. Guesty was woozy and the trip I applied made for a quick take down. Not knowing what the hell else to do, I threw the motherfucker in the camel-clutch and waited...and waited...and waited.
What seemed like 2 days was about three minutes. Once I was in control, my team took the rec room off lock down and waited outside the door for CIT. I was struggling to stay conscious, the pain in my head like a hundred thousand jackhammers. The door opened and CIT bum-rushed both of us, me to the office, Guesty to the hole. It was a worse ending to a horrible day and in the end I have to worry about having my own back. Some days I swear there is no justice in getting out of bed, doing the right thing, or just being a good guy.
I hope you all are well.