There really is no point to this post like the previous three. This will simply be random thoughts, bitching, and trying to put it into paragraph form. I read somewhere that blogs are graffiti with punctuation. This post will be simply that. You have been warned. Don't say I didn't tell you.
I guess we can start off with the daily enema that is work. Not sure if I have said it in the past, but I do not mind what I do. I don't 100% enjoy it, but I don't hate it. My job can be compared to eating vanilla pudding: it's good, not great, but once you have to eat it every day you begin to notice its bland and you just used your last clean spoon. Now you are pissed because you wanted to eat soup later and you're out of dish soap. It seems pointless to go ALL THE WAY to the store to get dish soap just because you want soup tonight. I mean, you could just use the same spoon, but that's kind of gross. Fuck it. There's a cardboard pizza in there somewhere. The hell was I talking about? Work. Right. Got it. What I do absolutely hate about work is a few of the people. If I have to hear the same stupid "jokes" and the same goddamn tone of voice one of these individuals uses to start every sentence I will un-fucking-load. Like, Norwegian extremist explode. If you don't get that reference then you are sad and probably only watch MTV and American Idol and don't know news still comes in paper form. If so, you have plenty of your own problems and should probably go to the doctor for penicillin. I just assume you have an STD. I use to get super pissed and verbally assault these people. Now, I have been beaten like a un-potty trained dog in Michael Vick's house. (A little dated, but I think that joke still works.) There is also a possible paradox at work. The better you do the more responsibility you get. Yea! Hazzah! But the responsibility seems to be hollow. The carrot is right in front of me, but I can't reach it. I will give it until May, when I can transfer, to determine if I want to transfer or not.
Possible Name Changes: Hootie McBoob, Professor Max Hammer, Rembrandt Q. Einstein, Max Power, Hercules Rockefeller, Handsome B. Wonderful, Justin Credible, Big Dick Johnson.
Why does Garfield hate Mondays? He doesn't work.
My brother recently had a probation court date. He is an alcoholic (shit's funny, right?) and has multiple alcoholic related convictions. Dude's an ass. Back to the court date. He actually went in NOT knowing they wouldn't have a breathalyzer there. Jackass blew a .11 at 9AM. They of course held him until his sentencing. What did the judge do with him? Nothing. Seriously let him go with no punishment. And people say our justice system is broken. I guess you can't catch Ferris everytime, Jeanie. Shit.
White Sox look like shit again. Ten games into the season and I'm declaring us deader than Nick Cannon. ..........What? Really? And still on TV? I just don't understand the world anymore.
This past Saturday I participated in the JDRF Walk for the Cure. I walked 2+ miles and didn't find that cure anywhere. Worst. Treasure hunt. Ever.
I give myself one night a week to go to the bars with my buddies. Each time I get REALLY drunk and begin to hit on girls. Depending on who I'm with it can end up with a very good night or go down quicker than Elton John in a elevator with a pantsless Mario Lopez.....I'm not sure who I'm really insulting there, but either way: BURN MOTHERFUCKER!
That's it for tonight. I told you: skip this post. Pointless. You just wasted your time. Hope you're happy.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Why I Hate Brock
This is an email I wrote last week at work out of jealousy. Before you read on I should give you some background. Brock is a great guy. He comes from a pretty history as I do and we share the same sense of humor. He is 6'6" which makes him a giant, plush teddy bear who should be able to dunk. He can't dunk by the way. I hope he reads this as a reminder of that. Brock went on a week long vacation to Florida with his longtime girlfriend. This left me to fend for myself.
To: Mr. [Brock]
Introduction
As I sit here at my Desk of Death it is Thursday and I hate you. Usually my intense hatred for most things is turned into something constructive. Useful things such as slamming my head into my keyboard, ruthlessly making fun of people, or slowly pushing a pin into my palm. However, today has been simply awful and the fact that each time I raise my gorgeous head I notice you are gone. This then reminds me that you are in Florida, with your girlfriend, getting a tan, and probably drinking a beer. Each time I am reminded I go into a full on seizure. This happened about thirty minutes ago. As I woke up with my tongue bit half-way through, completely soiled jeans, and still frothing at the mouth, I decided to write you the reasons I hate you today.
You Are In Florida
This is probably the most obvious reason that I hate you today. I am at my desk getting ear raped by the angry bottom of the lower class. At the same time you are in Florida high-fiving Mickey Mouse while riding on the back of a pack of dolphins. You are a tall dude so it takes more than one or two dolphins. I sit here contemplating ways I can cause SHC (spontaneous human combustion) to myself while you pick lobster straight from the ocean that is so warm it cooks the sea life at the perfect edible temperature. Your teeth go through the shell as if you are biting into a ripe tomato. While I am forced into awkward and cancer causing conversations, you sit on a floatee in a salt water pool as sea turtles swim your Corona to you. Don’t worry; it comes with a lime. I hate you.
[Melanie] Is Across From Me Today
This week has been an abyss of self loathing at work for many different reasons. Today, God decided to punt his human hackey-sack (me) across the quad. God is a stoned college kid wasting his parents money in this metaphor. Melanie has been sitting across from me today. I already didn’t get much sleep last night because I stayed up too late being awesome. It is catching up to me now and the fact that her talking is the equivalent of drill sergeant screaming into a bull horn that’s been turned up all the way does not a good day make. Not only does she have a shrill voice, (seriously, I would rather hear a stuttering Miss Piggy as my internal voice the rest of my life) but her headset is up so loud I can hear that too! At this point I believe I have the right to lash out physically or request that, because I am part of her calls, that I should get partial credit. I am not asking for the whole thing, but I feel 70% would keep me from setting myself on fire. I could also create a section for [CaptainDiabetes] and [PossibleTranny]'s man voice today, but I will refrain. I hate you.
Who Do You Think You Are?
I mean, seriously, come on. What gives you the right? We all sit here shuffling this mortal coil (Shakespeare reference. You’re welcome) and you don’t have to? Why!? Just because your girlfriend (who is lovely by the way) asks you to go to Florida for free does NOT mean you can just pick up and go. Am I the only one that has heard of “No Man Left Behind?” And, no, that is not a homosexual pornographic film, Brock. It’s an actual saying that some of us take seriously. I disagree with you obvious assumption that you are better than everyone here. Taller? Yes. Better? No, no, no. I hate you.
Conclusion
I feel as though you go off easy in this email that I am now calling, “The Memoirs of My Dignity.” The simple fact that I have gone through all of this while you haven’t had to is infuriating. With each passing day that I arrive to work and realize you are not subjected to the horrors of everyday life my rage grows. Ever see Honey, I Blew Up The Kids? The dad creates a growth ray and accidentally shoots his toddler which, of course, causes him to grow at a rapid pace until he is the size of a skyscraper. That is basically what my rage has been doing all week. Now my rage is a giant toddler who tries eating a giant fake donut on top of a bakery. If you haven’t seen the movie that reference will be lost on you. Either way, once you return to God’s Country my rage and hatred will be here. Waiting. Plotting. I hate you.
P.S.
I encourage all those attached to this email to also let Brock know why you hate him.
To: Mr. [Brock]
Introduction
As I sit here at my Desk of Death it is Thursday and I hate you. Usually my intense hatred for most things is turned into something constructive. Useful things such as slamming my head into my keyboard, ruthlessly making fun of people, or slowly pushing a pin into my palm. However, today has been simply awful and the fact that each time I raise my gorgeous head I notice you are gone. This then reminds me that you are in Florida, with your girlfriend, getting a tan, and probably drinking a beer. Each time I am reminded I go into a full on seizure. This happened about thirty minutes ago. As I woke up with my tongue bit half-way through, completely soiled jeans, and still frothing at the mouth, I decided to write you the reasons I hate you today.
You Are In Florida
This is probably the most obvious reason that I hate you today. I am at my desk getting ear raped by the angry bottom of the lower class. At the same time you are in Florida high-fiving Mickey Mouse while riding on the back of a pack of dolphins. You are a tall dude so it takes more than one or two dolphins. I sit here contemplating ways I can cause SHC (spontaneous human combustion) to myself while you pick lobster straight from the ocean that is so warm it cooks the sea life at the perfect edible temperature. Your teeth go through the shell as if you are biting into a ripe tomato. While I am forced into awkward and cancer causing conversations, you sit on a floatee in a salt water pool as sea turtles swim your Corona to you. Don’t worry; it comes with a lime. I hate you.
[Melanie] Is Across From Me Today
This week has been an abyss of self loathing at work for many different reasons. Today, God decided to punt his human hackey-sack (me) across the quad. God is a stoned college kid wasting his parents money in this metaphor. Melanie has been sitting across from me today. I already didn’t get much sleep last night because I stayed up too late being awesome. It is catching up to me now and the fact that her talking is the equivalent of drill sergeant screaming into a bull horn that’s been turned up all the way does not a good day make. Not only does she have a shrill voice, (seriously, I would rather hear a stuttering Miss Piggy as my internal voice the rest of my life) but her headset is up so loud I can hear that too! At this point I believe I have the right to lash out physically or request that, because I am part of her calls, that I should get partial credit. I am not asking for the whole thing, but I feel 70% would keep me from setting myself on fire. I could also create a section for [CaptainDiabetes] and [PossibleTranny]'s man voice today, but I will refrain. I hate you.
Who Do You Think You Are?
I mean, seriously, come on. What gives you the right? We all sit here shuffling this mortal coil (Shakespeare reference. You’re welcome) and you don’t have to? Why!? Just because your girlfriend (who is lovely by the way) asks you to go to Florida for free does NOT mean you can just pick up and go. Am I the only one that has heard of “No Man Left Behind?” And, no, that is not a homosexual pornographic film, Brock. It’s an actual saying that some of us take seriously. I disagree with you obvious assumption that you are better than everyone here. Taller? Yes. Better? No, no, no. I hate you.
Conclusion
I feel as though you go off easy in this email that I am now calling, “The Memoirs of My Dignity.” The simple fact that I have gone through all of this while you haven’t had to is infuriating. With each passing day that I arrive to work and realize you are not subjected to the horrors of everyday life my rage grows. Ever see Honey, I Blew Up The Kids? The dad creates a growth ray and accidentally shoots his toddler which, of course, causes him to grow at a rapid pace until he is the size of a skyscraper. That is basically what my rage has been doing all week. Now my rage is a giant toddler who tries eating a giant fake donut on top of a bakery. If you haven’t seen the movie that reference will be lost on you. Either way, once you return to God’s Country my rage and hatred will be here. Waiting. Plotting. I hate you.
P.S.
I encourage all those attached to this email to also let Brock know why you hate him.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Proof I'm An Asshole
Most of you who know me also know I can be a HUGE asshole. One way or another I am probably going to say something shitty to you and I might apologize later. I'm pretty narcissistic (how could I not be?) and raretly think I'm wrong. However, the better you know me the less of an asshole I am. I consider myself to be a good friend. For people I like (seriously, there's like seven of you) I would do ANYTHING for you. I say this objectively because it's 100% true. Not 110% because that's not real and people that say that should be steralized. As I said earlier there are few that are really friends. Since moving to Des Moines I have met one person I would consider a best friend. This is the story of how that went.....bum Bum BUM!!!!
I met [Bethany] working at Applebee's. She likes to say at first she really didn't like me because of my boistrous (nice word for annoying) personality. She said I was uncomfortable and trying too hard. This is completely accurate. After a while I (we?) found that we were eerily similar. Our tastes in movies, TV, books, etc. were pretty much the same. More importantly we had the exact same type of humor. That means we made fun of everybody. To their faces. It was pretty goddamn funny. It was the main reason I stayed at Applebee's as long as I did. Being around her was like looking into a mirror and seeing your female self. By the way, if THAT is the female version of me......Not too shabby.
After a few months of constantly goofing around inside and out of work things changed. We would work together and change our schedules so we could both close. If you don't know what "close" means then you haven't worked in the food industry. If that's the case feel free to go fuck yourself. Anyway, we use to go out and drink 3 or 4 nights a week. I can honestly say I've never met a girl who could keep up with me. She's got class out the ass. Things changed when Bethany got pregnant (not mine, assholes) in March of 2011.
Normally this is where my story would end and I would say that I stopped talking to her because she got boring. Quite the opposite. We got really close because there was no drinking and actual conversations. Around this time she got me hooked on Lost and would come over to watch with me. By "watch with me" I actually mean "explain things to me because I am too dumb to catch everything. " Tell me if I'm "using" quotes "too much" and it's "getting annoying." I can't tell you how many questions I would ask that were probably obvious and she would calmly answer them. Then the baby came.
Again, you would assume (Stop doing that by the way. It's rude.) that we would fall out of contact. That was true to a point, but we would each go out of our way to text and set up lunches just to catch up. Her daughter is crazy awesome. While I loathe the father (I will try to NEVER write about him past this point. I respect Bethany too much.) her baby is terrific. There are not enough positive adjectives I can use about this little girl. When she is not sleeping (which is cute) she is looking directly at you just smiling (also cute) making you feel like the most important person in the world. This baby shares no blood with me, at all, but when she is around she is the world. It's weird to think that (especially to write it) about a child who isn't related to me. If you don't understand then you haven't met you. Your loss. She's awesome and you suck.
Then St. Patrick's day came. Bethany and I hadn't seen each other in months and our schedules finally matched up for something. I had been drinking much of the day, (It was St. Patrick's Day. Don't judge.) but I was pacing myself for meeting up with Bethany. I picked her up and we went to an Iowa Barnstormers game. We did what we use to do. Took something marginally fun and with our personalities, plus beer, we made it AMAZING! Honestly one of the best times I had in a while. After the game I convinced her to go downtown for a drink. I wanted to surprise her with the free concert, Who's Bad. We are both gigantic Michael Jackson fans.Who's Bad is a MJ tribute band that we saw the previous December which she would go on to say was one of the best nights of her life. Anyway, we left the game, me buzzed and her drunk, and decided to walk downtown. I got caught up talking to her and took a right instead of a left at some point. We both got frustrated being lost and started heading back. I was super pissed about being lost and missing a great surprise. The longer it took to get back the angrier we got. Her at me and me at myself. We were in the Skywalk when she asked me, "Luke, do you have anything to get back to? Because I do." I know she probably didn't mean it the way that I took it, but it sent me over the edge. I lost my cool and let out some of my anger unfortunately on her. She called me a dick. I deserved that. I then followed up by calling her a fucking cunt. Ouch. Yea, that was a bit too much. I then punched a window in the Skywalk, chipped a knuckle, and found glass in my hand the next morning.
What followed next was the obvious: her being visibly upset, asking her parents to come get her, me apologizing while still being pissed, and me driving her home in almost complete silence. The only things she said were, "Even people who hated me never called me that," and as I dropped her off, "Thanks for everything. It was fun." I don't know if that last thing was genuine or a verbal kick in the nuts. If it's the latter: well played. I've tried a twice to apologize and whatnot since then. No response. If it helps, yes, I actually am sorry and really hope that didn't end our entire friendship. Her choice at this point. But I am an asshole. If you're surprised then you are an idiot and didn't read the title of this post.
I met [Bethany] working at Applebee's. She likes to say at first she really didn't like me because of my boistrous (nice word for annoying) personality. She said I was uncomfortable and trying too hard. This is completely accurate. After a while I (we?) found that we were eerily similar. Our tastes in movies, TV, books, etc. were pretty much the same. More importantly we had the exact same type of humor. That means we made fun of everybody. To their faces. It was pretty goddamn funny. It was the main reason I stayed at Applebee's as long as I did. Being around her was like looking into a mirror and seeing your female self. By the way, if THAT is the female version of me......Not too shabby.
After a few months of constantly goofing around inside and out of work things changed. We would work together and change our schedules so we could both close. If you don't know what "close" means then you haven't worked in the food industry. If that's the case feel free to go fuck yourself. Anyway, we use to go out and drink 3 or 4 nights a week. I can honestly say I've never met a girl who could keep up with me. She's got class out the ass. Things changed when Bethany got pregnant (not mine, assholes) in March of 2011.
Normally this is where my story would end and I would say that I stopped talking to her because she got boring. Quite the opposite. We got really close because there was no drinking and actual conversations. Around this time she got me hooked on Lost and would come over to watch with me. By "watch with me" I actually mean "explain things to me because I am too dumb to catch everything. " Tell me if I'm "using" quotes "too much" and it's "getting annoying." I can't tell you how many questions I would ask that were probably obvious and she would calmly answer them. Then the baby came.
Again, you would assume (Stop doing that by the way. It's rude.) that we would fall out of contact. That was true to a point, but we would each go out of our way to text and set up lunches just to catch up. Her daughter is crazy awesome. While I loathe the father (I will try to NEVER write about him past this point. I respect Bethany too much.) her baby is terrific. There are not enough positive adjectives I can use about this little girl. When she is not sleeping (which is cute) she is looking directly at you just smiling (also cute) making you feel like the most important person in the world. This baby shares no blood with me, at all, but when she is around she is the world. It's weird to think that (especially to write it) about a child who isn't related to me. If you don't understand then you haven't met you. Your loss. She's awesome and you suck.
Then St. Patrick's day came. Bethany and I hadn't seen each other in months and our schedules finally matched up for something. I had been drinking much of the day, (It was St. Patrick's Day. Don't judge.) but I was pacing myself for meeting up with Bethany. I picked her up and we went to an Iowa Barnstormers game. We did what we use to do. Took something marginally fun and with our personalities, plus beer, we made it AMAZING! Honestly one of the best times I had in a while. After the game I convinced her to go downtown for a drink. I wanted to surprise her with the free concert, Who's Bad. We are both gigantic Michael Jackson fans.Who's Bad is a MJ tribute band that we saw the previous December which she would go on to say was one of the best nights of her life. Anyway, we left the game, me buzzed and her drunk, and decided to walk downtown. I got caught up talking to her and took a right instead of a left at some point. We both got frustrated being lost and started heading back. I was super pissed about being lost and missing a great surprise. The longer it took to get back the angrier we got. Her at me and me at myself. We were in the Skywalk when she asked me, "Luke, do you have anything to get back to? Because I do." I know she probably didn't mean it the way that I took it, but it sent me over the edge. I lost my cool and let out some of my anger unfortunately on her. She called me a dick. I deserved that. I then followed up by calling her a fucking cunt. Ouch. Yea, that was a bit too much. I then punched a window in the Skywalk, chipped a knuckle, and found glass in my hand the next morning.
What followed next was the obvious: her being visibly upset, asking her parents to come get her, me apologizing while still being pissed, and me driving her home in almost complete silence. The only things she said were, "Even people who hated me never called me that," and as I dropped her off, "Thanks for everything. It was fun." I don't know if that last thing was genuine or a verbal kick in the nuts. If it's the latter: well played. I've tried a twice to apologize and whatnot since then. No response. If it helps, yes, I actually am sorry and really hope that didn't end our entire friendship. Her choice at this point. But I am an asshole. If you're surprised then you are an idiot and didn't read the title of this post.
Work
I sit here not sure what I want to say, but I feel that there definately is something. I guess because this is the first of many (doubt it) blogs I will start of with the basics of why I'm amazing. Whether you like it or not I will come off as a confident yet funny asshole. Try to resist, terrorist.
I work for a banking institution and currently don't mind my job. They give plenty of oppurtunities for you to stand out which myself and core group of friends have done. We are dwarves amongst midgets. Or is it midgets amongst dwarves? Doesn't matter. You get it. I am part of a community events team, starting specialty work on certain accounts, and I don't hate most of those around me. That's pretty rare. There are days where going to work feels like I just stepped in dog shit, but I scrape it off my shoe, act like I didn't step it in, and try and ignore the smell. I am less than two months away from my one year mark. This means on May 23rd I can begin the transfer process if I don't feel like I'm moving forward.
Given that my previous job was server/bartender/expo/carside at Applebee's, I understand that jobs like mine are rare. Every time I left Applebee's the simple fact that I didn't set that fucking place on fire was a small miracle. The forced conversations with the people that worked there had to be close to sticking your hand into a blender and hitting ten. Repeatedly. For hours at a time. I shouldn't have expected anything less given that the reason most (not all) those who worked there is because they repeatedly made bad choices. It seemed like the managers didn't truely give a shit if people came late, screwed up all the time, or did drugs in the bathroom. I swear there were days that were so annoying that I considered that fact that I died and was sent to hell. Purgatory at best. Have you ever been to a job where you seriously considered giving yourself a concussion so you could passout and have a few hours of not talking to coworkers? Blech. Not everything was bad. I did meet a few people who I would consider true friends. If you are wondering if you are one of them then clearly you are not. You are either an acquaintance or an asshole. So go away.
I work for a banking institution and currently don't mind my job. They give plenty of oppurtunities for you to stand out which myself and core group of friends have done. We are dwarves amongst midgets. Or is it midgets amongst dwarves? Doesn't matter. You get it. I am part of a community events team, starting specialty work on certain accounts, and I don't hate most of those around me. That's pretty rare. There are days where going to work feels like I just stepped in dog shit, but I scrape it off my shoe, act like I didn't step it in, and try and ignore the smell. I am less than two months away from my one year mark. This means on May 23rd I can begin the transfer process if I don't feel like I'm moving forward.
Given that my previous job was server/bartender/expo/carside at Applebee's, I understand that jobs like mine are rare. Every time I left Applebee's the simple fact that I didn't set that fucking place on fire was a small miracle. The forced conversations with the people that worked there had to be close to sticking your hand into a blender and hitting ten. Repeatedly. For hours at a time. I shouldn't have expected anything less given that the reason most (not all) those who worked there is because they repeatedly made bad choices. It seemed like the managers didn't truely give a shit if people came late, screwed up all the time, or did drugs in the bathroom. I swear there were days that were so annoying that I considered that fact that I died and was sent to hell. Purgatory at best. Have you ever been to a job where you seriously considered giving yourself a concussion so you could passout and have a few hours of not talking to coworkers? Blech. Not everything was bad. I did meet a few people who I would consider true friends. If you are wondering if you are one of them then clearly you are not. You are either an acquaintance or an asshole. So go away.
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