and i am terribly conflicted.
its been strange lately. ive had my head down, running around doing this garbage schedule of mine, and rarely do i have a chance to pop it up and look around. maybe i should. you see, alot kind of went past me lately i never sat and thought much about. i found out my grandmother is in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's, and shes going to need to move to one of those fancy places for that. and its sinister. its been hard on my mother [as an only child] to deal with seeing her own mother start to loose it. but now that its in my head, its getting hard to grasp. shes always been kind of batty. and she is getting older. it happens. i got to remind myself of that fact. it does happen. but its going to be a big departure from what ive know. all my life, all of it, shes lived in one place, and been grandma. nothing ever changed. and it would almost seem insulting to move someone who would be in her position, but its not. it really is the best thing we can do. she knows whats going on, and she understands whats happening. god that would kill me. i might opine away on my thoughts sometimes to my slipping grip on reality, but knowing what would be coming would be hell. i dunno. its just one thing.
im also slowly realizing my age. and thats a sad thing. im not old. but im no longer young. i keep thinking to myself that im two years freshly graduated from college... but thats a pretty abstract way to measure time. im getting old. ive only got three summers left in me, before im 30. and for whatever that does or does not matter; mentally and emotionally i keep wanting to think of myself as a peer to all those kids getting ready to move back to school. i want to be dumb enough to sit and get tanked at some bar with a crowd of whores to try at. to bitch about midterms, or to shove it aside and sit around with friends till 4 am talking about god knows what in the hallway. but its not happening. thats all something thats in the past. so now, when i roll through some of the campus around here at ambrose or augustana, its a shock to think thats not me anymore. its the past. its me, getting old. and i always thought things would come along that replace those thoughts, and those actions. right? the ethos of an adult replaces that of the 20 something, which is a stronger, and better adolescent, whom is a developed child. all those things we learn, those social mores, and lessons prepare us for the real changes.... the responsibilities, the situations and the decisions we make. but im sitting there, feeling like i should be with them, but know that im not.
im also thinking about my relationships with people. poof. something falls in my lap this evening that i honestly, wasnt looking for. ... its people looking back to say something. there was a definitive split. something like a year ago. and the reason was because i just was sick of the shit and walked away. one of those great epiphany moments, like a true james joyce moment, where i came to realize what all was really true. for a long while i had been fed up with it. but i affronted the good guy attitude, i swept things under the rug, and i tried to keep it between the lines. silently i was angry about it. then this shit shows up. like i want to reach back and answer to what happened a year ago. in some deranged way, i want to. i want to go back to that time, and in the worst way, i want to scream and be angry again. i want badly to put this through someones fucking skull, that maybe i had a hard time adjusting to life minus. minus school. minus where i wanted to be. minus being that careless twenty-something year old. but that didn't make anything right. that doesn't address the real issues. and i guess, thats something i get out of it for being the old guy now. i get the things that slipped by those people. the bigger picture is the heart of rejecting someone. not the reasons. not the ill applied divisions you created. but the issue of rejecting someone else. and maybe thats my answer. and maybe that doesn't mean anything either.
maybe what it means is im just not satisfied. not with life. im starting to hit a wall at work about what i do, how i do it, and where i can go with it in my location. bit by bit, im feeling older. i actually feel it in my legs and back when i wake up now. just a dull kind of ache. like after you run a couple miles, you have that dead leg sensation. sometimes its like that when i wake up now. its disturbing. not to mention im counting the seasons as i age. another true sign that im getting old. and im not satisfied with much, because i havent done much. i really havent amounted to anything. financially im dependent. socially, im often left independent. but all together its doesnt feel like its any one particular thing. just alot of them. slowly. something small like, attending a wedding in about a month; has left me feeling more and more pathetic. not that im no where near that point; but i cant scrounge anyone for a date. i tried. and i thought the last three years or so, that maybe it was just bad timing, odd weekends for people, or me not looking hard enough. but now; now im pretty burnt out on it. ive slowly... theres that word again... slowly coming to accept what it is.
its ___________ .
[fill in the blank for me i guess]
thats alot of rambling. i dunno. im tired. this impending sense of doom is coming up fast.... its about the only thing that doesnt feel slow about me anymore.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Friday, August 03, 2007
Crank. Stupidest movie ever. In a long time. I had some hope that it would be fun to watch... but its like a 4th grader with a camera trying to make a high-octane action movie. Bad. Baaaaaad. Don't watch it. Remember Jason Stratham for the Italian Job and the Transporter movies... this. eesssh... I might wipe my ass with the cover next time. Might.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Well Well Well
So random things keep happening that keep things interesting. take the other day. I walk to the back, and see a conversation going on between two people... So naturally I include myself. It turns out there are some complaints about birds nesting in a display shed out front. Nesting was one issue. But the birds fighting off people that come near it, was another issue. Apparently its a pretty bad issue. After checking on the severity of the problem a store manager was seen attempting to fight them off with a clipboard the day before. Now on the most recent trip a department manager ended up running for his life to get away. Ahem. Its decided something has to be done. This is of course why I include myself.
I suggest that we all stop being pussy's, knock out the nest, and start crackin' bird skulls. There is no agreement. The conversation stops at my comment. I'm reminded the birds have "sharp pointy things" that they attack with and, worse yet, "they really hurt." I remind them, we are men, they are birds. They want a more diplomatic resolution. But it's decided I should come with, just in case. I ask whats the plan, and there isn't a clear answer. So, "we're talking to them?" No reply. They continue to scavenge for heavy leather gloves, sturdy clipboards, a drywall square, and other maneuverable--- yet blunt objects. I sit on the desk and take this all in. I'm laughing. Hearty, sadistic laughter. I wouldn't think it to be serious, but here we are; three grown men, and two of them are donning make shift armor and weapons, like 4 year olds on the playground. I collect myself, "you guys are going in pretty heavy to talk to birds," and I ask plainly what everyone else is going to think of this; hinting at the fact that we have to pass through the entire store... the entire store filled with customers, into the parking lot, full of customers. No one looks at me. They are breaking out the grease pens and going Braveheart on me.
Not nearly soon enough, I coax them out from their armory, and forward toward the dragons. I ask King Arthur, if I should prepare his sword and shield, and gesture towards broom handles and garbage can lids. There is finally a sense of laughter. It seems forced. I take the first one I see, but it steadily makes me more uncomfortable about the situation. As we near the front of the store; I ask again what the point is... "So, this is like the mob movies... All we're going to do is talk to 'em"... The looming truth untold, just like in the movies is; someone is going to get killed.
As we breach the doors, the meeting is ready, I can see that. Our show of force has brought out a similar flex of muscle. Circling over the shed in question, are now 3 angry birds. I nod at them, "looks like they came for a fight." I'm told that the birds have sharp beaks, and are crazed. Yes, I know they are armed. But so are we. But so what, we're just going to talk to them. Thats all. Just talk.
We approach with the Boss first, who is greeted by the first move... a dive bomb from a bird. Those two scatter, screaming and swinging clipboards around in circles as the other two move in for the kill. I walk into the shed, unnoticed, and shut the door behind me. My guest of honor is seated, squarely in the dark musty loft above me. So much for the movies, I guess. I make small talk at first, unsure of how these things should go down--- that is, except for in the movies. But amid the shrieks and rustling papers, I know my time is limited.
"I don't think you understood us, when we said we never wanted to see your face in this town again... I represent some persuasive people, and you didn't listen to what they had to say. They thought, maybe you would listen to someone like me." The reaction from the roost is a chilling silence. No movement. Not a flinch. Just a blank stare back at me. I move a folding chair closer between us. "It seems to me, you had a good thing going. But things gotta end. My associates gave you an option; one you didn't want to take. They asked nicely. They asked me to be nice. " I lower the broom handle in their direction, and measure my gaze. "But they ain't here now, are they?"
OH GOD! THAT ONE GOT ME. -thud, thump, the door shakes behind me-
So it was the silence that stayed, unbroken, but it was the gaze and posture that shifted to the door behind me that drew my response, too fast for them to realize the mistake. Fuck talking.
No one heard their screams. There were too many going on outside. Too much noise for anyone else to notice me, having my way with these punks. With the fluff and twigs flying, maybe I lost it. Maybe, I enjoyed it too much. This 'conversation' was all me. But like that, it was over. A smear on the wall. The spray dripped down the wall, to a mess in the corner. And only me, looming large, stood then. One egg, one nest, down. Lost to a war of words.
Feeling quite mob-like, I kicked open the door, throwing the broom behind me, and quickly walked out into the street. The fear in their eyes told my story, without a spoken word. 'Holy shit, what happened?' With a sneer, I stopped, looked them in the eyes like a murder should, and said "I talked to them."
So we walked briskly back the building cheering and happy, with a bird still rampaging around the air. Mourning what we took for granted. Stupid sparrows. They should have got out a long time ago.
So random things keep happening that keep things interesting. take the other day. I walk to the back, and see a conversation going on between two people... So naturally I include myself. It turns out there are some complaints about birds nesting in a display shed out front. Nesting was one issue. But the birds fighting off people that come near it, was another issue. Apparently its a pretty bad issue. After checking on the severity of the problem a store manager was seen attempting to fight them off with a clipboard the day before. Now on the most recent trip a department manager ended up running for his life to get away. Ahem. Its decided something has to be done. This is of course why I include myself.
I suggest that we all stop being pussy's, knock out the nest, and start crackin' bird skulls. There is no agreement. The conversation stops at my comment. I'm reminded the birds have "sharp pointy things" that they attack with and, worse yet, "they really hurt." I remind them, we are men, they are birds. They want a more diplomatic resolution. But it's decided I should come with, just in case. I ask whats the plan, and there isn't a clear answer. So, "we're talking to them?" No reply. They continue to scavenge for heavy leather gloves, sturdy clipboards, a drywall square, and other maneuverable--- yet blunt objects. I sit on the desk and take this all in. I'm laughing. Hearty, sadistic laughter. I wouldn't think it to be serious, but here we are; three grown men, and two of them are donning make shift armor and weapons, like 4 year olds on the playground. I collect myself, "you guys are going in pretty heavy to talk to birds," and I ask plainly what everyone else is going to think of this; hinting at the fact that we have to pass through the entire store... the entire store filled with customers, into the parking lot, full of customers. No one looks at me. They are breaking out the grease pens and going Braveheart on me.
Not nearly soon enough, I coax them out from their armory, and forward toward the dragons. I ask King Arthur, if I should prepare his sword and shield, and gesture towards broom handles and garbage can lids. There is finally a sense of laughter. It seems forced. I take the first one I see, but it steadily makes me more uncomfortable about the situation. As we near the front of the store; I ask again what the point is... "So, this is like the mob movies... All we're going to do is talk to 'em"... The looming truth untold, just like in the movies is; someone is going to get killed.
As we breach the doors, the meeting is ready, I can see that. Our show of force has brought out a similar flex of muscle. Circling over the shed in question, are now 3 angry birds. I nod at them, "looks like they came for a fight." I'm told that the birds have sharp beaks, and are crazed. Yes, I know they are armed. But so are we. But so what, we're just going to talk to them. Thats all. Just talk.
We approach with the Boss first, who is greeted by the first move... a dive bomb from a bird. Those two scatter, screaming and swinging clipboards around in circles as the other two move in for the kill. I walk into the shed, unnoticed, and shut the door behind me. My guest of honor is seated, squarely in the dark musty loft above me. So much for the movies, I guess. I make small talk at first, unsure of how these things should go down--- that is, except for in the movies. But amid the shrieks and rustling papers, I know my time is limited.
"I don't think you understood us, when we said we never wanted to see your face in this town again... I represent some persuasive people, and you didn't listen to what they had to say. They thought, maybe you would listen to someone like me." The reaction from the roost is a chilling silence. No movement. Not a flinch. Just a blank stare back at me. I move a folding chair closer between us. "It seems to me, you had a good thing going. But things gotta end. My associates gave you an option; one you didn't want to take. They asked nicely. They asked me to be nice. " I lower the broom handle in their direction, and measure my gaze. "But they ain't here now, are they?"
OH GOD! THAT ONE GOT ME. -thud, thump, the door shakes behind me-
So it was the silence that stayed, unbroken, but it was the gaze and posture that shifted to the door behind me that drew my response, too fast for them to realize the mistake. Fuck talking.
No one heard their screams. There were too many going on outside. Too much noise for anyone else to notice me, having my way with these punks. With the fluff and twigs flying, maybe I lost it. Maybe, I enjoyed it too much. This 'conversation' was all me. But like that, it was over. A smear on the wall. The spray dripped down the wall, to a mess in the corner. And only me, looming large, stood then. One egg, one nest, down. Lost to a war of words.
Feeling quite mob-like, I kicked open the door, throwing the broom behind me, and quickly walked out into the street. The fear in their eyes told my story, without a spoken word. 'Holy shit, what happened?' With a sneer, I stopped, looked them in the eyes like a murder should, and said "I talked to them."
So we walked briskly back the building cheering and happy, with a bird still rampaging around the air. Mourning what we took for granted. Stupid sparrows. They should have got out a long time ago.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
my apologies people. my loving, adoring, smack loving readership has craved some more sickness... and i can only hope to deliver! so to my fans everywhere... in "the tree house," that play with carpet, that are chasing camels in Iraq, that deliver golden ring's of goodness by nightfall, and those of you that appreciate clone on clone violence in The Jungle-- Rome style.... its for you.
ill drop some articles this round, and some Verbal Murder next round!
now for the articles! this time I've got a few whoppers to get up here:
- the latest in the Ron Van Fossen Saga!!!
- robberies, love triangles, and trailers... oh my!!!
- and... shit you thought you had a bad night.
The Latest In The [Alderman] Ron Van Fossen Saga!!!
From the Quad City Times [qctimes.net link]
A teenager is accused of attacking a transsexual he had sex with.BY KATHLEEN CHAPMAN |The Palm Beach Post [miamiherald.com link]
ill drop some articles this round, and some Verbal Murder next round!
now for the articles! this time I've got a few whoppers to get up here:
- the latest in the Ron Van Fossen Saga!!!
- robberies, love triangles, and trailers... oh my!!!
- and... shit you thought you had a bad night.
The Latest In The [Alderman] Ron Van Fossen Saga!!!
Alderman Van Fossen Accused of Continued Harassment
By Tory Brecht | Wednesday, June 27, 2007From the Quad City Times [qctimes.net link]
Davenport 1st Ward Alderman Ron Van Fossen has on at least two occasions violated a directive ordering him to cease contact with the city employee he was accused of sexually harassing earlier this year, according to an administrative memorandum.
In the memo dated June 19 and sent to City Administrator Craig Malin, Mayor Ed Winborn and acting Corporate Counsel Tom Warner, assistant City Administrator Dee Bruemmer detailed two messages the alderman left on administrative assistant Cindy Webb’s office voice mail.
“In the first message, Alderman Van Fossen requested several customer service items and ended the conversation on a personal note stating they should have a beer when this all gets over,” Bruemmer wrote. “The second voice mail had one customer request and the statement that he had been drinking the night before and he should call her.”
Bruemmer is acting as Webb’s direct supervisor because Malin and Human Resources Director Jeff Dolan are named in her Iowa Civil Rights Commission complaint about the alleged harassment. In the complaint, she said the administration ignored her complaints.
In her memo, Bruemmer said she told Webb not to return Van Fossen’s calls and to screen her future calls.
“Because my job is to assure, through all reasonable action, that Ms. Webb has the opportunity to work in a hostile-free workplace, I am requesting that Mr. Van Fossen be made aware of the seriousness of his breach of the city’s understanding of no contact,” she wrote. “He should also be informed that a future breach will result in the city seeking a court order to ensure compliance.”
Warner concurred that seeking a court order would be the next step, should further harassment allegations occur.
That was not done in the first place, he said, because the city attempted to solve the problem “with a lesser measure. It’s the notion of a progressive approach.”
Warner pointed out that in the private sector, an employee accused of harassment would be warned, then terminated if he or she did not comply with the order. City staff, he pointed out, has no such power over elected officials.
Malin said that makes handling the Van Fossen situation challenging.
“It is readily apparent that staff does not have the full measure of authority, or any authority for that matter, to discipline council members,” Malin said. “Their behavior is beyond staff purview, generally. In this instance, we have on numerous occasions taken the appropriate, prompt remedial action within the bounds of staff authority.”
That includes moving Van Fossen’s mailbox out of the third-floor council office where Webb works to the first floor, handing over administrative duties from Webb to Redmond Jones, the city’s affirmative action officer, and the directive ordering Van Fossen to cease contact with Webb.
Webb’s attorney, Mike Meloy, wants the city to do more.
In a letter he sent to Warner on June 22, after learning of the memorandum, he demanded specific action to be taken against Van Fossen.
“I request the city immediately seek a court order to insure compliance on this issue requiring Mr. Van Fossen to stop his contact with Cindy Webb,” he wrote.
Van Fossen could not be reached for comment Wednesday.
In March, the alderman sought treatment for alcoholism at an out-of-state facility. In April, he served seven days in the Scott County Jail after pleading guilty to domestic assault and for violating a no-contact order filed by his ex-wife.
Tory Brecht can be contacted at (563) 383-2329 or tbrecht@qctimes.com.
Robberies, Love Triangles, and Trailers... OH MY!!!
By Corina Curry | ROCKFORD REGISTER STAR [rrstar.com]ROCKFORD — A love triangle that was escalating into violence was the impetus behind a 24-year-old homeless man’s 24-hour robbery spree that hit two drug stores, two grocery stores and a bank last week, according to court documents.
The documents, including signed statements from Scott Njos and FBI agent Craig Smith, claim Njos was trying to amass $10,000 *so he could buy a trailer* where he and his girlfriend could escape a man whom she dated while Njos was in prison for a pair of armed robberies in 2004.
According to a petition filed in state court June 1, Njos’ 19-year-old girlfriend sought the court’s protection from a 26-year-old Rockton man for herself, Njos and two children, claiming the Rockton man “hit Scott with a van, brought drugs around my children, took the brake cap off my van twice and made his dog attack me.” A hearing was to be held on the petition Friday, but no one showed.
Njos, who was released from state prison in April, allegedly started his spree Wednesday night and didn’t stop until he was picked up by police Friday morning in South Beloit.
Njos is in federal custody facing a bank robbery charge that carries a maximum punishment of 20 years in federal prison and a $250,000 fine. He appeared before U.S. Magistrate Judge P. Michael Mahoney on Monday afternoon and will return Wednesday for a hearing to determine if he’ll remain in custody while the charges against him are pending.
Njos’ mother, who declined to speak to media, broke down in tears as her son was escorted into the courtroom Monday.
According to court records, Njos robbed four businesses and attempted to rob a fifth from 7:15 p.m. Wednesday to 3 p.m. Thursday: two Walgreens stores, an Aldi’s grocery store and a Fifth Third Bank branch. He started to rob a Logli’s grocery store, but didn’t go through with it, documents show.
And... Shit You Though YOU Had A Bad Night?
A teenager is accused of attacking a transsexual he had sex with.
BY KATHLEEN CHAPMAN |The Palm Beach Post [miamiherald.com link]
The two strangers met outside a bar on Clematis Street in West Palm Beach.
One was a 17-year-old high school student out with a friend. The other was an attractive 39-year-old from Ohio in capri pants and a silky spaghetti-strap top.
The teen says that the woman got into their car, and performed oral sex on him in the back seat while his friend drove. They ended up near a lifeguard tower on the island of Palm Beach after midnight. According to the 17-year-old, the woman was on top of him when he saw something he didn't expect under her bikini bottom.
Just as they were about to have sex, he says, he saw the woman was actually a pre-operative transsexual. She already had breast implants, but her other surgery is not scheduled until later this year.
She denies any sexual activity with the teen and has a different story.
TRANSSEXUAL BEATEN
But a witness saw what happened next: The teen shouted for help, dragged her through the sand, beat her head against the lifeguard stand and punched out her front teeth.
The teen goes on trial this week in juvenile court, facing a first-degree felony hate-crime charge that may be without precedent in Palm Beach County.
Assistant State Attorney Renelda Mack, chief of the civil rights unit, said she does not remember another hate-crime case here with a transsexual victim.
The teen, now 18 and attending summer school, has been under house arrest since the beating in the early morning of July 29, 2006. A juvenile judge will decide if he is guilty and what punishment, if any, he will face.
The teen's attorney, John Brewer, will argue self-defense. Brewer said the 39-year-old threatened to kill him and his family if he told anyone what happened.
A mechanic from Lake Worth was on the beach that night with friends. He said in a deposition that he was sitting on top of the lifeguard tower when the teen, wearing only boxer shorts, came up and asked for help.
The kid, who looked no older than 18, ''was hysterical, freaking out, crying, upset,'' the witness said.
``He said he picked up a girl, he thought it was a girl -- it was a guy.''
The man had tried to rape him, the teen told the mechanic.
TOLD TO GO HOME
The witness said he suggested that the boy go home and not tell anyone. But about half an hour later, the kid returned, he said, dragging what looked to be a topless man down the beach by the hand. He screamed that he was going to kill him and slammed the person's head against the lifeguard stand, the witness said.
The witness jumped off the tower and headed for the boardwalk. The kid came back again, he said, saying he thought he had killed someone and was going to jail. Palm Beach police arrived then, the witness said.
They found the victim covered in blood.
The teen's father says he is appalled by what happened and can't believe that the state has not filed charges against the 39-year-old for sex with a minor. Florida law makes it a second-degree felony for a person 24 or older to engage in any sexual activity with a 16- or 17-year-old.
''I want to know how a 39-year-old man, disguised as a woman, was out there picking up a 17-year-old,'' the father said.
But the transsexual, now 40, gives a different version of events.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I'm still not dead. Yet.
Anyhow. So its been a month without an update; big friggin deal. No? Say it ain't so... but the lull in my activity has itched a few asses. So now, with an appearant lack of anything truly noteworty of stating; I reclaim my destiny as... Master of The Universe [of local newspaper article reporting!]. I'm saving a real post for when I get some in a couple days. Back to my "Anyhow." The thing that gets me about this one;
- Isn't that it involves molestation by sexual predators.
- Isn't that it involves 41-year old male sexual predators on EVERQUEST.
- Isn't that it involves people right here in my home town...
Read it and see if you catch my hint. Enjoy! I'm off to see if any women want to molest me online!
From; QCONLINE.COM
Man gets six years for receiving porn from Moline teen
By Anthony Watt , awatt@qconline.comA 41-year-old Texas man was sentenced to six years in federal prison for receiving child pornography depicting a Moline teenager he met while playing an online video game.
John Wayne Malone, of Pittsburgh, Texas, pleaded guilty to receiving the pornography as part of a plea deal, according to court documents.
After he serves his sentence, he will be on mandatory supervised release for the rest of his life, the United States Attorney's Office for central Illinois said in a news release.
Mr. Malone met the teen in 2004 while playing the online game "Everquest," After a few months, she told him how old she was, but they continued to chat online and by telephone and play the game together.
By the summer of 2005, their conversations had become sexually graphic, and Mr. Malone requested the teen send him sexual images, according to court documents.
The girl sent him several explicit photographs from a cellular telephone to his e-mail address, according to court documents.
Mr. Malone must report to serve his sentence by July 16.
The U.S. Postal Inspection Service and the Moline and Pittsburgh, Texas, police departments took part in the investigation.
-----
S.
Friday, May 04, 2007
i really shouldnt be writing... not now atleast. since its my weekend on that means i *GET* to do the close than open's which i detest... ah so..
anyways... im sitting here because of these ass clowns that showed up tonight. they walk in at 9:45pm [15 mins before we close] and go to the wrong department for help [its important later], then get dumped on me. they say, they bought something; had it delivered, and its missing stuff. i ask what it was. "a cabinet." ok. do you have a receipt or paper work for it? "no, i guess not." i let it sit a second, and reminded them how difficult this is for me to give away parts for things that people cant prove they even have. they scowl. get pissy with me. so, i take them back to the delivery area; have delivery pull their paper work from the delivery [why? because if it WAS delivered, it had to be paid for, and had to have items in a manifest that were delivered]. turns out it was a discontinued, display, medicine cabinet, sold on a discount price. i reminded them of this. they get pissy again, i say we can take some parts out of the most similar thing we have [they make faces at me, and start bitching about me to two other employees on the way back]. im already mad. obviously; they knew what department to have gone to; and didnt go there. obviously they knew what it was; and wouldnt tell me. obviously they knew why they got a discounted price; to cover any damage or missing parts. and obviously, they are fucking jackasses not to come with anything.... no parts... no boxes... no receipts. the kicker? this shit was delivered almost two weeks ago. but they come stomping in about it now. anyway. we go over there, i tell them this cabinet is the closest thing i have anymore, and take the parts out of it... the guy starts counting. i stop. hes counting how many parts hes supposed to have. i remind him that i know this, and im pulling all the parts out for him. ofcourse, the last part wont come out, then he blurts out "I THOUGHT YOU COULD COUNT, I JUST TOLD YOU I NEED 6, WHY ARE YOU ONLY GIVING ME 5... " i tell them i need tools to get the rest out. they tell me, that i dont need to be such a jerk about it. me. funny. so i get the stuff, and before i walk over, i can hear both of them loudly bitching and laughing at me about how they can say anything they want about me, and i couldnt do much about it. fantastic. i walk in, pull out he last part, hand it over, and ask if there is anything else i can do. they stare at me, then start to walk away. never giving me a fake thank you for it. so i start tearing down the display i just scuttled for parts... mind you, my cost on it was something around 180 dollars, for 3 dollars in parts. i get that "im being watched feeling" they are staring at me. "What are you going to do to that?" they ask. so i tell them. seriously; i lost all my money on the product to get them those parts, and now i cant sell it and have to damage it out of my inventory. they continue to glare at me; with that condescending eye. then they leave. turns out they bitched and moaned about what i did to anyone around that would listen, including the store manager. i love people. i love this job. i eat 180 dollars of good product, to fix a discounted cabinet you bought weeks ago, and just now want 3 dollars in parts for free, with no paper work, when really we should be closed.... and im the bad guy. only here. only with these customers. much like the poop-stained toilet seat shoppers, the "its just a standard pipe" assfucks, and the ever present: "you should pay me for my gas money to come down there to get it" -guy, these morons are all the worst people ive ever dealt with in my life.
these "guests" all expect us to wipe their ass, with our sleeves, and be thrilled to do it. they never come prepared to do anything; only buy the cheapest shit, are rude, and expect some discount on top of everything. its rediculous. maybe its the area. maybe its the products. and maybe its the business. but it really grates on my nerves some times. ofcourse, the worst offenders fall in 3 categories....
((the trash.)) they comprise the biggest group. they have a sub genus of: the CON-tractor, the Trailer, the Nastard, The Know It All. in general, they rely upon fart humor, four letter words, body odor, and some sort of direct of God to continue to exist. if it werent for those things; the cold weather, 3rd grade education, and state criminal tax statutes; should have done them in by now. alas. they survive, and thrive at times. the CON-tractor sub group is recognized by partially missing finger tips [atleast from one knuckle down], black store-brand racing hat [in the summer] or brown carhartt imitation store-brand jackets [in the winter]. they attempt to do jobs for other Trash, that really no one should do. this lends them credibility in the Trash subculture for their experience. they often have to rely on the lowest level of mechanical interface to accomplish these jobs however... using compression threads instead of soldering joints, using JB weld to seam a trailer together for "winterizing" purposes, using vinyl tube in place of rigid drainage pipe, and by a gross use of the phrase "nigger rigging." which astounds me. because several of my real area business contacts are black, and do top notch work, and are quite reputable, and often these CON-tractors, are white and trashy to begin with. regardless. the CON-tractor also believes hes entitled to special treatment: discounts, hitting on female employees, dumping of beer cans on our property, and special parking spaces [parking the trailer towing truck across the parking lots at the front of the store]. the CON-tractor seems to find it inappropriate to take additional supplies to save time; instead opting for multiple trips for logical items [ie- they will buy the light fixture and wire, but not wire caps or tape, not a switch, rarely a bulb][ie- they buy the bathtub, but not the trap, the drain, they buy the faucet but not the fittings to connect it]. to them, each visit is a gift to us; and is to be treated as such. the Trailer sub genus lives in a trailer. or something one notch above it, such that if it had wheels and no basement, would be confused with a trailer. these people are the prime examples of why trailer parks are so bad. to them, everything must be the cheapest grade possible; logically because its going in a trailer. they also have very little concept of how the rest of the civilized world refuses to live on houses with wheels. often this group, for lack of means, seeks out the CON-tract for aid. often times, the Trailer will be quite open, if not proud to proclaim their status... but some times they will mask their identity; poorly. several minutes of interaction will give conclusive evidence of their genus. they are best identified during cold weather looking for heat tape, near the sounds of children being beaten, or by a reliance upon making a cheaper [and ultimately faulty] alternative to a mainstream solution. [ie- using vinyl tubing and rubber cement to plumb a lavatory fixture, rather than purchasing the 5 dollar supply line] [ie- wanting to connect any number of inappropriate items by use of garden hose]. most of the struggle for their existence is rooted in attempts to keep their shelter from collapsing from abuse, neglect, and stupidity of previous repairs. they often will approach with extreme vulgarity and will never be detered from purchasing the lowest price point in a run. Trailer will complain about prices, complain about how it goes to a trailer, and complain about how you shouldnt try to scam them. the Nastard is a similar subgenus; often confused with the Trailer. the Nastard can infact live in a trailer, or be employed as a CON-tractor, making them very difficult to appropriately differentiate. Nastard is the inept, single-toothed, shopper, clad in nascar numerals, often coming from rural or underdeveloped neighborhoods. to them, trucks with dual rear wheels, cars that make left hand turns, and a requisite number of numeral decals; show achievement. as mentioned, they can progress into CON-tractors, or degress into Trailer genus; but are a quasi separate class, when left to their own device. the Nastard is generally brain dead when it comes to common sense; but does have adequate low level mechanical ability in most cases. Nastard also seems quite at ease with installation or assembly, something the Trailer struggles with. Nastard is also quite know for their habitual dormant periods [sundays, mid day during "the races"], but is generally active at all other periods of time. the Nastard despises high-quality, high-fashion products, right turns, beers with names of more than 5 letters in length, and some rival nascar driver. lastly, the Know It All is placed into this genus. they often can take any shape, have no regular or identifiable markings or habits; aside from temperment. the Know It All will always be known by the incessant argumentative nature. discussions could be frank, and simple, but the Know It All will argue irrelevant points, or points of non contention to attempt to attain superiority. this inferiority/superiority complex drives the Know It All to engage all problems, but to reject all help or solutions; simply because they believe they know how to do it better than anyone else. logic and reasoning are not necessary; they simply know more than you. they often "know" things based on spurious relationships and logic patterns. [ie- they know a water heater has 3/4" fittings because, standard water pipes are sized to fit them] the Know It All can only be addressed as such, once he has been drawn into his element; until that point, the will lie in concealment. [ie- the Know It All will be silent about electrical components if their preceived knowledge base is rooted in concrete finishing; this is not to say they will not be receptive to your instructions or even attempt them, but they will often not openly argue at first]... Know It Alls can also show aggression towards other areas; ie- "Buddy, I'm a Carpenter, I know when a pipe is half inch; and I'm telling you its all just standard water pipe." because carpenter's routinely plumb houses you know.
((the foreign devils.)) at the risk of sounding xenophobic... the foreign devils are a difficult group to deal with; not because of how they act, but because of how their culture is structured, and because, frankly, we dont speak the same damn language. lets assume you've heard every racist joke in the world already; well... it wont surprise you that there are in fact, lots of cultural divides that make life difficult in a society like ours. if you've heard, thought, or otherwise encountered any modestly racist thought/joke/anecdote, then open you're freaking head for once. the spanish speaking crowd is the largest. culturally; they dont talk. they stay isolated. i dont know why that is. but its very true. well. somewhat true. they talk to other mexicans. just not any of us. so. they will romp around the store, never speak to you, and hoarde an aisle for hours waving off anyone that comes near. why? because they appearantly dont grasp the notion, that of all 51 kinds of faucet handles we have, are in fact different, and it probably is the reason why, there are 51 kinds. so ill stop and try to talk to them about it. i never get a reply to anything i say. or, if they have something, and i tell them we dont have anything like that; they will stay in the aisle for another 30 minutes looking. appearantly, i am a liar. to them, im the foreign devil appearantly. nothing is farther from the truth. because, honestly, if i give you what you want; youll leave. so i aim to give you what you want. please. for the love of god, let me give you what you want. but just leave then. because, i really, really, want you to leave. because there are probably 38 people who also want help. ofcourse, we can differentiate some more. there are also the bargin'ers... typically people of middle eastern, south pacific, or somewhere inbetween those places... everything we sell; is too expensive. everything; EVERYTHING becomes a game of "lets make a deal" its part of their culture. i get that. but in america; its part of our culture NOT to do that. right. unless is used cars, homes, or illict drugs; we dont barter. hell. even in those three exceptions; you cant always barter. so dont do it here. pay the price on the sign, or dont. because Nastard is listening to you. if he even thinks im giving you a deal; hes going to use his beer breath and swagger over to me to expect one. and that aint happening. its got less of a chance than his hero making a right hand turn. so. dont do it. we also get the eastern european crowds; which are notoriously cheap, speak very, very little english, and only want to cobble things together. they usually have no idea what the hell they are doing. hell.. sometimes indoor plumbing fascinates the shit out of their Parliament memebers... but they often come across as rude, and really dont follow directions. you end up repeating things like you would to someone who is deaf. but thats not the problem.
((the so old-im-waiting-for-death people.)) quite possibly my least favorite type to deal with. ill take the bust-my-balls deal-asker 7 ways from sunday; ill take the family of mexicans using garden hose and duct tape to repair gas lines in the house; ALL before i really want to deal with the elderly. why? whats so bad? first off. they are old. they expect to be treated like they did when horses pulled wagons, and when pyramids still had the for-sale signs on the lawn. that means, everything has to have a "good deal" a "classic" "simple" or other stupid stigma attached to it. old people will buy anything that way. if we drop it on a coupon, they come flying in for it. bats out of fucking hell; 88 below zero with 98 feet of snow, they will be there. for stupid shit. worthless shit. shit they wont even understand or use. they get it. they also are preoccupied with "clerks" who "wait" on them. id prefer to wait on them dying. because, this is old people talk for: hold my hand sonny, light bulbs are complex. or "stand here and watch me not buy anything, waste two hours asking questions that dont matter; while we look for something that was invented before the Cold War." thats what it means. they like antiquated terminology, that doesnt ring with people under 58. stools [toilets], wicks [not on candles], cocks [anything except penis], tile [for plastic things], plastic [for things not made out of plastic], and so on. expect them to buy anything thing made out of metal; if its an alternative... because metal is appearantly better. or rather, it shows its was crafted with knowledge that blacksmiths could have held. avoid plastics, electronics, and bright colors... because those things didnt exist during THE Depression... also; everything must be redundantly simple. often times, youll have to put something together if it requries more than one part- they wont be able to follow it. they also will walk out of a store if it requires them going up stairs or across the store... because its too much physical activity. they are needy. anything and everything requires sapping the youth from my marrow to accomplish. they cant read. labels, directions, pictures, all of which help retarded rhesus monkeys build space stations; are ineffectual with the elderly. they will stand there, demand to open a package to see it [especially if the package is clear plastic or a wrapper you can see through], then stare at you. old people like to stare. that also creeps me the fuck out. they stand there, agape, looking at you. they ask about a cabinet hinge, you point, articulate the hinge and tell them to see why its different... mouth open, they stare at your face, and never look at it. better yet; the people so old, they mouth the words you are saying... think of it like reading lips, but in a reflection. its fucking annoying. like the squeal of hearing aids that makes me go deaf, that they cant seem to figure out. they whacked out the damn things so bad, one ear is creating feedback for the other ear; but they cant hear a thing! also i could jump on here about how they shop at 10 am. everyday. its like the old folks home kicks them out, and dumps them on our curb. they come in a rampage, at 4/300's MPH, all leaning on carts, in packs. like stray dogs hungry for the kill, they romp around, running carts into employees and displays, bashing into things for two hours. they pick up non-sequitor crap, complain about how it was all cheaper before the war [the Civil War], and insist on bother employees for stupid things. like life stories. like... "Im buying a new toilet seat because this one is old [and has shit on it]." or "I need a toilet with a higher seat, because it splatters back at me when I'm sitting on it." there are a few phrases I never needed to hear, BUT have heard. they pray upon the younger, more fortunate, to do everything for them; but are trying to convince us of their independence. its laughable; not laudable. they also like to argue with you while you help. obviously Jasper and Gertrude are tired of arguing with them back at the concentration camp.... errrrr nursing home, so they come here to get that last bit of mental exercise. spare me. all reasons why i like the elderly crew the least. but youll know them because: they are on oxygen, they require a cart for some reason to buy anything, they wear polyester everything, they refer to each other as "Dad" and "Maw", they move in reverse, and because the parking lot is suddenly flooded with Buick and Oldsmobile badges.
anyways... im sitting here because of these ass clowns that showed up tonight. they walk in at 9:45pm [15 mins before we close] and go to the wrong department for help [its important later], then get dumped on me. they say, they bought something; had it delivered, and its missing stuff. i ask what it was. "a cabinet." ok. do you have a receipt or paper work for it? "no, i guess not." i let it sit a second, and reminded them how difficult this is for me to give away parts for things that people cant prove they even have. they scowl. get pissy with me. so, i take them back to the delivery area; have delivery pull their paper work from the delivery [why? because if it WAS delivered, it had to be paid for, and had to have items in a manifest that were delivered]. turns out it was a discontinued, display, medicine cabinet, sold on a discount price. i reminded them of this. they get pissy again, i say we can take some parts out of the most similar thing we have [they make faces at me, and start bitching about me to two other employees on the way back]. im already mad. obviously; they knew what department to have gone to; and didnt go there. obviously they knew what it was; and wouldnt tell me. obviously they knew why they got a discounted price; to cover any damage or missing parts. and obviously, they are fucking jackasses not to come with anything.... no parts... no boxes... no receipts. the kicker? this shit was delivered almost two weeks ago. but they come stomping in about it now. anyway. we go over there, i tell them this cabinet is the closest thing i have anymore, and take the parts out of it... the guy starts counting. i stop. hes counting how many parts hes supposed to have. i remind him that i know this, and im pulling all the parts out for him. ofcourse, the last part wont come out, then he blurts out "I THOUGHT YOU COULD COUNT, I JUST TOLD YOU I NEED 6, WHY ARE YOU ONLY GIVING ME 5... " i tell them i need tools to get the rest out. they tell me, that i dont need to be such a jerk about it. me. funny. so i get the stuff, and before i walk over, i can hear both of them loudly bitching and laughing at me about how they can say anything they want about me, and i couldnt do much about it. fantastic. i walk in, pull out he last part, hand it over, and ask if there is anything else i can do. they stare at me, then start to walk away. never giving me a fake thank you for it. so i start tearing down the display i just scuttled for parts... mind you, my cost on it was something around 180 dollars, for 3 dollars in parts. i get that "im being watched feeling" they are staring at me. "What are you going to do to that?" they ask. so i tell them. seriously; i lost all my money on the product to get them those parts, and now i cant sell it and have to damage it out of my inventory. they continue to glare at me; with that condescending eye. then they leave. turns out they bitched and moaned about what i did to anyone around that would listen, including the store manager. i love people. i love this job. i eat 180 dollars of good product, to fix a discounted cabinet you bought weeks ago, and just now want 3 dollars in parts for free, with no paper work, when really we should be closed.... and im the bad guy. only here. only with these customers. much like the poop-stained toilet seat shoppers, the "its just a standard pipe" assfucks, and the ever present: "you should pay me for my gas money to come down there to get it" -guy, these morons are all the worst people ive ever dealt with in my life.
these "guests" all expect us to wipe their ass, with our sleeves, and be thrilled to do it. they never come prepared to do anything; only buy the cheapest shit, are rude, and expect some discount on top of everything. its rediculous. maybe its the area. maybe its the products. and maybe its the business. but it really grates on my nerves some times. ofcourse, the worst offenders fall in 3 categories....
((the trash.)) they comprise the biggest group. they have a sub genus of: the CON-tractor, the Trailer, the Nastard, The Know It All. in general, they rely upon fart humor, four letter words, body odor, and some sort of direct of God to continue to exist. if it werent for those things; the cold weather, 3rd grade education, and state criminal tax statutes; should have done them in by now. alas. they survive, and thrive at times. the CON-tractor sub group is recognized by partially missing finger tips [atleast from one knuckle down], black store-brand racing hat [in the summer] or brown carhartt imitation store-brand jackets [in the winter]. they attempt to do jobs for other Trash, that really no one should do. this lends them credibility in the Trash subculture for their experience. they often have to rely on the lowest level of mechanical interface to accomplish these jobs however... using compression threads instead of soldering joints, using JB weld to seam a trailer together for "winterizing" purposes, using vinyl tube in place of rigid drainage pipe, and by a gross use of the phrase "nigger rigging." which astounds me. because several of my real area business contacts are black, and do top notch work, and are quite reputable, and often these CON-tractors, are white and trashy to begin with. regardless. the CON-tractor also believes hes entitled to special treatment: discounts, hitting on female employees, dumping of beer cans on our property, and special parking spaces [parking the trailer towing truck across the parking lots at the front of the store]. the CON-tractor seems to find it inappropriate to take additional supplies to save time; instead opting for multiple trips for logical items [ie- they will buy the light fixture and wire, but not wire caps or tape, not a switch, rarely a bulb][ie- they buy the bathtub, but not the trap, the drain, they buy the faucet but not the fittings to connect it]. to them, each visit is a gift to us; and is to be treated as such. the Trailer sub genus lives in a trailer. or something one notch above it, such that if it had wheels and no basement, would be confused with a trailer. these people are the prime examples of why trailer parks are so bad. to them, everything must be the cheapest grade possible; logically because its going in a trailer. they also have very little concept of how the rest of the civilized world refuses to live on houses with wheels. often this group, for lack of means, seeks out the CON-tract for aid. often times, the Trailer will be quite open, if not proud to proclaim their status... but some times they will mask their identity; poorly. several minutes of interaction will give conclusive evidence of their genus. they are best identified during cold weather looking for heat tape, near the sounds of children being beaten, or by a reliance upon making a cheaper [and ultimately faulty] alternative to a mainstream solution. [ie- using vinyl tubing and rubber cement to plumb a lavatory fixture, rather than purchasing the 5 dollar supply line] [ie- wanting to connect any number of inappropriate items by use of garden hose]. most of the struggle for their existence is rooted in attempts to keep their shelter from collapsing from abuse, neglect, and stupidity of previous repairs. they often will approach with extreme vulgarity and will never be detered from purchasing the lowest price point in a run. Trailer will complain about prices, complain about how it goes to a trailer, and complain about how you shouldnt try to scam them. the Nastard is a similar subgenus; often confused with the Trailer. the Nastard can infact live in a trailer, or be employed as a CON-tractor, making them very difficult to appropriately differentiate. Nastard is the inept, single-toothed, shopper, clad in nascar numerals, often coming from rural or underdeveloped neighborhoods. to them, trucks with dual rear wheels, cars that make left hand turns, and a requisite number of numeral decals; show achievement. as mentioned, they can progress into CON-tractors, or degress into Trailer genus; but are a quasi separate class, when left to their own device. the Nastard is generally brain dead when it comes to common sense; but does have adequate low level mechanical ability in most cases. Nastard also seems quite at ease with installation or assembly, something the Trailer struggles with. Nastard is also quite know for their habitual dormant periods [sundays, mid day during "the races"], but is generally active at all other periods of time. the Nastard despises high-quality, high-fashion products, right turns, beers with names of more than 5 letters in length, and some rival nascar driver. lastly, the Know It All is placed into this genus. they often can take any shape, have no regular or identifiable markings or habits; aside from temperment. the Know It All will always be known by the incessant argumentative nature. discussions could be frank, and simple, but the Know It All will argue irrelevant points, or points of non contention to attempt to attain superiority. this inferiority/superiority complex drives the Know It All to engage all problems, but to reject all help or solutions; simply because they believe they know how to do it better than anyone else. logic and reasoning are not necessary; they simply know more than you. they often "know" things based on spurious relationships and logic patterns. [ie- they know a water heater has 3/4" fittings because, standard water pipes are sized to fit them] the Know It All can only be addressed as such, once he has been drawn into his element; until that point, the will lie in concealment. [ie- the Know It All will be silent about electrical components if their preceived knowledge base is rooted in concrete finishing; this is not to say they will not be receptive to your instructions or even attempt them, but they will often not openly argue at first]... Know It Alls can also show aggression towards other areas; ie- "Buddy, I'm a Carpenter, I know when a pipe is half inch; and I'm telling you its all just standard water pipe." because carpenter's routinely plumb houses you know.
((the foreign devils.)) at the risk of sounding xenophobic... the foreign devils are a difficult group to deal with; not because of how they act, but because of how their culture is structured, and because, frankly, we dont speak the same damn language. lets assume you've heard every racist joke in the world already; well... it wont surprise you that there are in fact, lots of cultural divides that make life difficult in a society like ours. if you've heard, thought, or otherwise encountered any modestly racist thought/joke/anecdote, then open you're freaking head for once. the spanish speaking crowd is the largest. culturally; they dont talk. they stay isolated. i dont know why that is. but its very true. well. somewhat true. they talk to other mexicans. just not any of us. so. they will romp around the store, never speak to you, and hoarde an aisle for hours waving off anyone that comes near. why? because they appearantly dont grasp the notion, that of all 51 kinds of faucet handles we have, are in fact different, and it probably is the reason why, there are 51 kinds. so ill stop and try to talk to them about it. i never get a reply to anything i say. or, if they have something, and i tell them we dont have anything like that; they will stay in the aisle for another 30 minutes looking. appearantly, i am a liar. to them, im the foreign devil appearantly. nothing is farther from the truth. because, honestly, if i give you what you want; youll leave. so i aim to give you what you want. please. for the love of god, let me give you what you want. but just leave then. because, i really, really, want you to leave. because there are probably 38 people who also want help. ofcourse, we can differentiate some more. there are also the bargin'ers... typically people of middle eastern, south pacific, or somewhere inbetween those places... everything we sell; is too expensive. everything; EVERYTHING becomes a game of "lets make a deal" its part of their culture. i get that. but in america; its part of our culture NOT to do that. right. unless is used cars, homes, or illict drugs; we dont barter. hell. even in those three exceptions; you cant always barter. so dont do it here. pay the price on the sign, or dont. because Nastard is listening to you. if he even thinks im giving you a deal; hes going to use his beer breath and swagger over to me to expect one. and that aint happening. its got less of a chance than his hero making a right hand turn. so. dont do it. we also get the eastern european crowds; which are notoriously cheap, speak very, very little english, and only want to cobble things together. they usually have no idea what the hell they are doing. hell.. sometimes indoor plumbing fascinates the shit out of their Parliament memebers... but they often come across as rude, and really dont follow directions. you end up repeating things like you would to someone who is deaf. but thats not the problem.
((the so old-im-waiting-for-death people.)) quite possibly my least favorite type to deal with. ill take the bust-my-balls deal-asker 7 ways from sunday; ill take the family of mexicans using garden hose and duct tape to repair gas lines in the house; ALL before i really want to deal with the elderly. why? whats so bad? first off. they are old. they expect to be treated like they did when horses pulled wagons, and when pyramids still had the for-sale signs on the lawn. that means, everything has to have a "good deal" a "classic" "simple" or other stupid stigma attached to it. old people will buy anything that way. if we drop it on a coupon, they come flying in for it. bats out of fucking hell; 88 below zero with 98 feet of snow, they will be there. for stupid shit. worthless shit. shit they wont even understand or use. they get it. they also are preoccupied with "clerks" who "wait" on them. id prefer to wait on them dying. because, this is old people talk for: hold my hand sonny, light bulbs are complex. or "stand here and watch me not buy anything, waste two hours asking questions that dont matter; while we look for something that was invented before the Cold War." thats what it means. they like antiquated terminology, that doesnt ring with people under 58. stools [toilets], wicks [not on candles], cocks [anything except penis], tile [for plastic things], plastic [for things not made out of plastic], and so on. expect them to buy anything thing made out of metal; if its an alternative... because metal is appearantly better. or rather, it shows its was crafted with knowledge that blacksmiths could have held. avoid plastics, electronics, and bright colors... because those things didnt exist during THE Depression... also; everything must be redundantly simple. often times, youll have to put something together if it requries more than one part- they wont be able to follow it. they also will walk out of a store if it requires them going up stairs or across the store... because its too much physical activity. they are needy. anything and everything requires sapping the youth from my marrow to accomplish. they cant read. labels, directions, pictures, all of which help retarded rhesus monkeys build space stations; are ineffectual with the elderly. they will stand there, demand to open a package to see it [especially if the package is clear plastic or a wrapper you can see through], then stare at you. old people like to stare. that also creeps me the fuck out. they stand there, agape, looking at you. they ask about a cabinet hinge, you point, articulate the hinge and tell them to see why its different... mouth open, they stare at your face, and never look at it. better yet; the people so old, they mouth the words you are saying... think of it like reading lips, but in a reflection. its fucking annoying. like the squeal of hearing aids that makes me go deaf, that they cant seem to figure out. they whacked out the damn things so bad, one ear is creating feedback for the other ear; but they cant hear a thing! also i could jump on here about how they shop at 10 am. everyday. its like the old folks home kicks them out, and dumps them on our curb. they come in a rampage, at 4/300's MPH, all leaning on carts, in packs. like stray dogs hungry for the kill, they romp around, running carts into employees and displays, bashing into things for two hours. they pick up non-sequitor crap, complain about how it was all cheaper before the war [the Civil War], and insist on bother employees for stupid things. like life stories. like... "Im buying a new toilet seat because this one is old [and has shit on it]." or "I need a toilet with a higher seat, because it splatters back at me when I'm sitting on it." there are a few phrases I never needed to hear, BUT have heard. they pray upon the younger, more fortunate, to do everything for them; but are trying to convince us of their independence. its laughable; not laudable. they also like to argue with you while you help. obviously Jasper and Gertrude are tired of arguing with them back at the concentration camp.... errrrr nursing home, so they come here to get that last bit of mental exercise. spare me. all reasons why i like the elderly crew the least. but youll know them because: they are on oxygen, they require a cart for some reason to buy anything, they wear polyester everything, they refer to each other as "Dad" and "Maw", they move in reverse, and because the parking lot is suddenly flooded with Buick and Oldsmobile badges.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
do do do be do
sitting around... thats what i do...
that and get fuckin irate about shit people do.... who made the list?
how about M-Tards "guests" that complain about things that are obviously not worth complaining over.... hm? "Why dont the pink buckets have pink lids... why are all the lids white... where are the pink lids at?" "Don't you have a toilet paper holder thats 1/4" bigger this way, but not the other way?" "Its just a standard faucet, not that it matters, just give me the parts I need fix it"
how about M-Tards for making me sell pink buckets and lids to the gruff con-tractor/farting/ nascar watching market... or for catering to their herpes and shit stained asses, by giving them Farting Santa Claus action figures, or more god damned nascar stickers or birthday knife sets
how about the mexican families that show up to buy custom tinted paint, 2 minutes before you close on a sunday night, then let their children barf all over the floor... for that matter, how abotu letting large mexican families in the store in the first place, since im getting tired of the kids stealing things or trashing the store
how about the asshole that invented the fucking Uni-Towel... yay. need to dry your hands? paper towels are expensive! those air powered hand dryers arent any good... we need something else... we need... a revolving uni towel! yes! lets put one 2 foot long towel in a loop and make people continually use a wet, fecal soaked towel to dry their hands...
how about the shit heads that continue to use a toilet as a turd dump, even though the city has shut the water off for some time... this; ofcourse, results in a legitimate use of a Turd Spoon;... yet another thing, I really dont need to have at the store to sell...
and on to things that dont suck..
the new Dimmu Borgir cd. definitively, not sucktackular. their best ever? hardly. but not sucktackular. devils. boobs. metal. weird accents from sweeden. 8 inch spiked leather shin guards. none of that sucks. Right now... I'm really digging track 9: The Invaluable Darkness. there is something about this bouncing riff, with the circus type keyboards... its just played so tight... so Old Man's Child tight... obviously Galder [guitarist for both bands] is doing alot more with Dimmu's writing.. {devil horns!}
watching the Yankees choke on it like a jr. high volleyball-playing slut at the hands of the Red Sox this weekend; also did not suck... I mean 'Yanks: show up to play... put 'Mo Rivera out there... Joe Torre says, "eh this shits in the bag"... 3 hits later... "When I said the shits in the bag, by bag I meant my pants, and by shit, I meant I just splattered them with my own shit" and then, they got busted in the mouth the monday night by the Devil Rays... the freaking Devil Rays...
heading out for a weekend of fun in chicago... does not suck. not possible. I'm sure it will be a good time, lots of story telling, drunkenness and such... ah, can't wait for the Not-Sucking, Time that will be had...
....
and on to other things...
to bring some funny:
QcOnline.com
DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) -- Iowans who bought a certain brand of firewood are asked to burn it as soon as possible because it wasn't properly treated to keep out a destructive insect called the emerald ash borer.
Nevermind; I've been laughing about this for a while. The Taylor's brand comes on a skid, about 110 packs, individually wrapped, with a bright yellow card, reading: "Mold and Bug Free!". About every third package I unload is either teeming with some sort of roach-iguana hybrids; or is completely blue and green with mildew and mold growth. Quality. It stinks like hog lot run off, and quite honestly, is priced pretty expensively. Customers like to tell me, that they would rather steal wood from people in town, than buy this stuff. So, after a while of me laughing; dumb asses buying it... this gem of a story breaks. Good riddance!
Anyhow... I'm way over due on putting up a post about vomit. So. In the spirit of me taking a weekend away, feel free to send in any other great stories involving the V-juice. I know I've got a few... If someone has one thats really good, I'll run it too.
And Sayōnara means the Yankees suck!
//// out \\\\
sitting around... thats what i do...
that and get fuckin irate about shit people do.... who made the list?
how about M-Tards "guests" that complain about things that are obviously not worth complaining over.... hm? "Why dont the pink buckets have pink lids... why are all the lids white... where are the pink lids at?" "Don't you have a toilet paper holder thats 1/4" bigger this way, but not the other way?" "Its just a standard faucet, not that it matters, just give me the parts I need fix it"
how about M-Tards for making me sell pink buckets and lids to the gruff con-tractor/farting/ nascar watching market... or for catering to their herpes and shit stained asses, by giving them Farting Santa Claus action figures, or more god damned nascar stickers or birthday knife sets
how about the mexican families that show up to buy custom tinted paint, 2 minutes before you close on a sunday night, then let their children barf all over the floor... for that matter, how abotu letting large mexican families in the store in the first place, since im getting tired of the kids stealing things or trashing the store
how about the asshole that invented the fucking Uni-Towel... yay. need to dry your hands? paper towels are expensive! those air powered hand dryers arent any good... we need something else... we need... a revolving uni towel! yes! lets put one 2 foot long towel in a loop and make people continually use a wet, fecal soaked towel to dry their hands...
how about the shit heads that continue to use a toilet as a turd dump, even though the city has shut the water off for some time... this; ofcourse, results in a legitimate use of a Turd Spoon;... yet another thing, I really dont need to have at the store to sell...
and on to things that dont suck..
the new Dimmu Borgir cd. definitively, not sucktackular. their best ever? hardly. but not sucktackular. devils. boobs. metal. weird accents from sweeden. 8 inch spiked leather shin guards. none of that sucks. Right now... I'm really digging track 9: The Invaluable Darkness. there is something about this bouncing riff, with the circus type keyboards... its just played so tight... so Old Man's Child tight... obviously Galder [guitarist for both bands] is doing alot more with Dimmu's writing.. {devil horns!}
watching the Yankees choke on it like a jr. high volleyball-playing slut at the hands of the Red Sox this weekend; also did not suck... I mean 'Yanks: show up to play... put 'Mo Rivera out there... Joe Torre says, "eh this shits in the bag"... 3 hits later... "When I said the shits in the bag, by bag I meant my pants, and by shit, I meant I just splattered them with my own shit" and then, they got busted in the mouth the monday night by the Devil Rays... the freaking Devil Rays...
heading out for a weekend of fun in chicago... does not suck. not possible. I'm sure it will be a good time, lots of story telling, drunkenness and such... ah, can't wait for the Not-Sucking, Time that will be had...
....
and on to other things...
to bring some funny:
QcOnline.com
Officials ask Iowans to burn wood not treated for beetle
DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) -- Iowans who bought a certain brand of firewood are asked to burn it as soon as possible because it wasn't properly treated to keep out a destructive insect called the emerald ash borer.
The Taylors Wood Products Inc. firewood was sold through the hardware chain Menards, according to the Iowa Department of Agriculture.
'Emerald ash borer is a destructive beetle that has the potential to devastate Iowa's ash trees,' Iowa Agriculture Secretary Bill Northey said in a statement. By burning firewood from the Springfield, Ill.-based company, he said 'Iowans can help slow the spread of this killer beetle.'
The firewood bundles found in Iowa contained wood pieces that had not been debarked, meaning they were not compliant with a federal quarantine, according the Iowa State University Extension's Web site.
While the beetle has not been detected yet in Iowa, Northey said is poses 'the most serious threat to Iowa's forest and urban ash tree population since Dutch elm disease more than 30 years ago.'
The U.S. Department of Agriculture issued an emergency action notice to Menards a week ago to remove the firewood from its sales areas, and has issued a national recall on all Taylors wood, Northey said.
The beetle was first identified in 2002 in Michigan, and is blamed for the more than 25 million dead or dying ash trees there. A handful of other states, including Illinois, and parts of Canada are also battling the emerald ash borer. ///end
Nevermind; I've been laughing about this for a while. The Taylor's brand comes on a skid, about 110 packs, individually wrapped, with a bright yellow card, reading: "Mold and Bug Free!". About every third package I unload is either teeming with some sort of roach-iguana hybrids; or is completely blue and green with mildew and mold growth. Quality. It stinks like hog lot run off, and quite honestly, is priced pretty expensively. Customers like to tell me, that they would rather steal wood from people in town, than buy this stuff. So, after a while of me laughing; dumb asses buying it... this gem of a story breaks. Good riddance!
Anyhow... I'm way over due on putting up a post about vomit. So. In the spirit of me taking a weekend away, feel free to send in any other great stories involving the V-juice. I know I've got a few... If someone has one thats really good, I'll run it too.
And Sayōnara means the Yankees suck!
//// out \\\\
Sunday, April 15, 2007
I'm sorry... I've been slacking lately... Several of you have been crawling up my ass because I haven't enriched the blogging world with the latest and greatest Tales of Davenport. For your pleasure, I present, the Saga of Ron Van Fossen; Davenport Alderman...
Quad City Times, via QCTIMES.net
Under the plea agreement, the 1st Ward Alderman also was sentenced to one year of unsupervised probation and ordered to complete the Domestic Violence Batterers Education Program. Scott County Sheriff’s Department officials say he isn’t segregated from the general jail population. He is taking medication for a heart stent, according to the jail booking sheet.
Van Fossen, 63, was to go on trial Friday morning for the domestic battery charge. About an hour after the trial was scheduled to begin, Scott County District Judge James E. Kelley entered the courtroom to announce the plea agreement. Van Fossen didn’t appear in court.
He has said he won’t resign from the Davenport City Council, but his legal woes aren’t over when he leaves the Scott County Jail. He is also involved in a sexual harassment complaint filed by a city hall employee.
Also Friday, Davenport resident Don Stevens Jr. delivered to City Hall a petition signed by about 20 1st Ward residents, urging the Davenport City Council to remove Van Fossen from office for “behavior unbecoming of an elected official” and his arrest and jailing.
Police say Van Fossen, 63, forced his way into his estranged wife’s home and shoved her Feb. 12, causing her to strike her head on a refrigerator. Debra Van Fossen obtained a no-contact order against her husband the next day when he was arrested for violating it.
In that incident on Feb. 13, he went to the Enchanted Inn, 4815 S. Concord St., where his wife was. She immediately left the establishment. He suffered a mild heart attack in late February.
The alderman appeared in court Wednesday for violating the no-contact order. Four witnesses testified and a judge ruled that the order was violated. He was sentenced to 180 days in jail, with all but seven days suspended.
Van Fossen went into alcohol-treatment program in Minnesota last month. He returned earlier this month, saying he was sober and even had cut down on his smoking.
Since his domestic abuse arrest, his home was burglarized, with $5,000 cash, a shotgun and ammunition reportedly taken.
\\\===end===///
So for any of you that missed it; this is a wonderful alderman from Davenport who, like some of the other Court Jesters [ahem; Keith Myers], seems never to be satified with fucking up. Here he is, in his glory, fresh off beating his wife [allegedly], with a sex suit on his hands, with a past history of a DWI, he decides to go galavanting around... until he got popped... just minutes before a city council meeting. Nice. Real nice. Ron, you are one classy gent, you! Cheers to getting banged around in a jail cell on company time.... errr... tax payer dime!
Quad City Times, via QCTIMES.net
Van Fossen jailed shortly before special meeting
By Kurt Allemeier | Wednesday, April 11, 2007Davenport Alderman Ron Van Fossen, 1st Ward, was booked into the Scott County Jail on Tuesday less than an hour before a special City Council meeting.
Van Fossen — scheduled for trial Friday on charges of domestic abuse assault — was sentenced to seven days in jail Tuesday on contempt violation of a no-contact or protective order for a February violation of the no-contact order involving his estranged wife.
He was booked into the jail at 4:18 p.m., shortly before the council began meeting on whether to reorganize the city’s legal staff.
Van Fossen, who recently returned from an alcohol rehabilitation center in Minnesota, has said he will not resign his council position. Along with the criminal charges, he is also involved in a complaint by a city employee alleging sexual harassment.
Van Fossen has been criticized by former Mayor Pat Gibbs, who has called for the alderman’s resignation. Gibbs, who was narrowly defeated by Van Fossen for the seat in 2005, asked Mayor Ed Winborn to appoint him and promised to petition for a special election if he was not appointed.
Van Fossen, 63, was arrested Feb. 13 at the Enchanted Inn, 4815 S. Concord St., for the violation of a no- contact order related to an incident from the previous night when he allegedly forced his way into his estranged wife’s home and shoved her, causing her to strike her head on a refrigerator.
Debra VanFossen she suffered a head injury that required treatment.
Kurt Allemeier can be contacted at (563) 383-2360 or kallemeier@qctimes.com.
RECENT TROUBLE
Davenport Alderman Ron Van Fossen’s recent incidents:
Feb. 12 — Arrested for allegedly forcing his way into his wife’s South Concord Street home and shoving her into a refrigerator. He denies the allegations.
Feb. 13 — Arrested again for allegedly violating a court order of protection by entering the Enchanted Inn on South Concord where his wife was.
Feb. 21 — Reports a burglary at his Enchanted Island home after discovering an attache case containing $5,000, a shotgun and a box of ammunition are missing.
Feb. 27 — Suffers a mild heart attack and is hospitalized.
March 2 — News becomes public of a civil rights complaint alleging sexual harassment filed by Cynthia Webb, an administrative assistant to the City Council.
March 3 — Enters an alcohol treatment program at Hazelden Foundation’s Center City, Minn., campus.
April 2 — Leaves alcohol treatment and attends the City Council’s Committee of the Whole meeting.
April 10 — Sentenced to seven days in the Scott County Jail for violation of a protective order.
Alderman pleads guilty to domestic abuse charge
By Kurt Allemeier | Saturday, April 14, 2007Davenport Alderman Ron Van Fossen pleaded guilty to simple domestic abuse assault and was sentenced to 20 days in jail Friday for attacking his estranged wife in an incident at her home in February.
All but two of the 20 days were suspended and will be served concurrently with the seven-day sentence he received and began serving earlier this week for violating a no-contact order. The no-contact order protecting Debra Van Fossen was extended.Under the plea agreement, the 1st Ward Alderman also was sentenced to one year of unsupervised probation and ordered to complete the Domestic Violence Batterers Education Program. Scott County Sheriff’s Department officials say he isn’t segregated from the general jail population. He is taking medication for a heart stent, according to the jail booking sheet.
Van Fossen, 63, was to go on trial Friday morning for the domestic battery charge. About an hour after the trial was scheduled to begin, Scott County District Judge James E. Kelley entered the courtroom to announce the plea agreement. Van Fossen didn’t appear in court.
He has said he won’t resign from the Davenport City Council, but his legal woes aren’t over when he leaves the Scott County Jail. He is also involved in a sexual harassment complaint filed by a city hall employee.
Also Friday, Davenport resident Don Stevens Jr. delivered to City Hall a petition signed by about 20 1st Ward residents, urging the Davenport City Council to remove Van Fossen from office for “behavior unbecoming of an elected official” and his arrest and jailing.
Police say Van Fossen, 63, forced his way into his estranged wife’s home and shoved her Feb. 12, causing her to strike her head on a refrigerator. Debra Van Fossen obtained a no-contact order against her husband the next day when he was arrested for violating it.
In that incident on Feb. 13, he went to the Enchanted Inn, 4815 S. Concord St., where his wife was. She immediately left the establishment. He suffered a mild heart attack in late February.
The alderman appeared in court Wednesday for violating the no-contact order. Four witnesses testified and a judge ruled that the order was violated. He was sentenced to 180 days in jail, with all but seven days suspended.
Van Fossen went into alcohol-treatment program in Minnesota last month. He returned earlier this month, saying he was sober and even had cut down on his smoking.
Since his domestic abuse arrest, his home was burglarized, with $5,000 cash, a shotgun and ammunition reportedly taken.
\\\===end===///
So for any of you that missed it; this is a wonderful alderman from Davenport who, like some of the other Court Jesters [ahem; Keith Myers], seems never to be satified with fucking up. Here he is, in his glory, fresh off beating his wife [allegedly], with a sex suit on his hands, with a past history of a DWI, he decides to go galavanting around... until he got popped... just minutes before a city council meeting. Nice. Real nice. Ron, you are one classy gent, you! Cheers to getting banged around in a jail cell on company time.... errr... tax payer dime!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
I've added a link to one of the best baseball blogs thats out there right now...
honestly people it is....
its Curt Schilling's.
Its probably the best because, if you know anything about how he pitches, and what he does to keep prepared to face hitters, this is the bar-none, best access you'll get to that information. Plus hes funny. He also interacts with fans as well. Its always a good read, especially the days he pitches and does a recap of what went on.
Anywho.
Curt Schilling. 38Pitches.com
honestly people it is....
its Curt Schilling's.
Its probably the best because, if you know anything about how he pitches, and what he does to keep prepared to face hitters, this is the bar-none, best access you'll get to that information. Plus hes funny. He also interacts with fans as well. Its always a good read, especially the days he pitches and does a recap of what went on.
Anywho.
Curt Schilling. 38Pitches.com
Friday, April 13, 2007
Imus, shmi-mus. Fuck that old bag.
"Here he goes again," you're are all thinking... But really. Fuck Imus. Fuck him because hes rich, hes white, and hes right. "So thats where hes going with this." Yeah. Fuck him becuase hes got about the best damn job on the planet; and he has everyone listening [now atleast] to what he says. He does one thing: talk. And now, hes got all of you listening. How much more successful can you get? Besides that. The guy was the definition of a Cocaine Addict. He beat that too. Hes been zen master, one with the blow, better than skank bag Paris Hilton on a tape, and he beat that too. Lets face it. Hes also rich. Filthy, mother fucking rich. And now everyone, magically, hates him. But let me get back at the point; hes white and hes right.
He is white. Being such, he gets a free pass on several things that black people can't get. Drug addiction, sexual vices, and the generic "good life." Yeah. Hes free to do drugs, buy hookers, and live it up, really without black folks caring too much about what he does. Hes white, hes earned it. Oh no? Well. Bill Clinton, Marv Albert, and most of Hollywood disagree. So does much of Congress. And the federal penetentary system. See. He gets nailed to the floor for a few things that blacks don't though; one of those things is having an opinion loud enough to be heard. Which, as a radio broadcaster, is a foregone conclusion... what he missed was the second card; hes not allowed to talk about race. Because hes white, because hes on drugs, and because he lives the good life; he cant talk too loudly, and it sure as shit better not be about race. At large, its plainly acceptable for blacks in our country to have loud, explosive, devicive opinions from anyone else [read 1970's black power movement, Louis Farakan, gangster rap music]; but people shouldn't hear what he has to say. Again, hes a member of the mass media; so what he says is now important... and what he said was something about race. Black people are allowed to talk about it. Whites aren't. Lets face it, in the post Rodney King, OJ is innocent, Duke Lacrosse, days, we expect the race issue to be raised; when in conflict. The thing is, Imus can't touch it. But he did. He picked it up. He ran with it for 45 seconds. And look at all the shit that happened. He threw the entire world out of whack for about 4 days. Fuck Imus. Fuck that old bag. Because hes off to the land of milk and honey now. You know damn well hes heading to internet radio or satellite radio. Hes going to keep doing what he always has done, and keep getting paid for. Wah, wah, sponsers dropped out of his show.... well I can guarantee this, they will line up to be a part of it when he goes to XM or Sirius. Just wait for it. And really, thats how it should be. Its not like hes a Grand Dragon, with a white hood on... its just a shitty talk show, hosted by an old drug addict in New York City... its going to continue in one way or another, because there really isnt anything wrong with the show, or with him. Its just that hes white, and he talked about race. Thats all. Let the free market principle take over. Sell what sells. If an all Klan radio station could make money; it would be on! Look what porno has done for the internet people. Open your eyes to see that the guy speaks his mind, and people tune in to hear it. As long as its not about race. Then it takes about 10 days for anyone to remember a 45 second rant. Fuck Imus.
Right?
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
So maybe its time for the post, that none of you are really ever ready to read. eh? I took an inventory of the underwear I own. Yes. In all of its glory, those few words took your breath away; to replace it with vomit and repulse. Shake that feeling campers! Its just a reflex, in time, you'll move past this stage.... but currently on stage; my underwear.
Is it a collection? See, I really hope not. A collection implies something of a static, stick pins holding it to velvet, type of on the wall display... really, we're talking about the pile of yarns I was shocked to know I owned, come laundry day. Yes, I do laundry on a regular basis, but for some reason the idea of idiotic inventory levels has been floating in my brain. The same brain that says; really 18 plastic bags in my room is really too many. The same brain, that says; "I should come up with a system to rotate my clothing now that its about 83 degrees outside again." So here I am. Annnnnny way. I started doing laundry tonight, then set off for parts yonder, to rummage through storage totes of clothing. What I was looking for were all my warm weather clothing that I displaced to rapidly find my sweatshirts and longsleve t's for this year. [Why only this year? Well at this point last year, I was selling copiers; the only thing I could wear were dress shirts and suit coats.... and everything from before then, that I wore at Iowa, was packed up in a rush in totes and left to sit in storage] As I'm grazing through one anonymous bin after another, I start to run across other clothes. Clothes I didn't know I still had. Clothes that I thought, I'd parted ways with long, long ago. Alas!
With my arms loaded I returned home to do, yet even more, laundry! I managed to find a few t shirts of bands, and a couple pairs of pants I'd wanted for a while [namely my cords and my khaki paratrooper pants], and a pile of boxers. Yes, a pile. I had patterns I never remembered wearing. Well, not for a long time. Lots of plaids. Anyways, I started washing all that shit, and returned to my room to fold and put away the first batch... the batch I have been wearing. Thats when I realized it. I have too many pairs of boxers. I really do. My underwear is out of control. There, more words to bring that vomit reaction again. But yes, my underwear is out of control, and I know it. When it was all said and done, I counted 36 pairs. Fuck me. 36 fucking pairs of boxers. Thats rediculous. Thats unnecessary. Thats woman-like. But, here is my MONTH PLUS supply of boxers, washed and ready to go. And, I'm not all that sure I'm uncomfortable about, ahem, the comfort they give me.
Yeah yeah, aside from the killing trees, dolphins, and third world workers; my stock pile gives me some descent flexibility on future laundry dates. Really, now, I'm just bound by what I have to wear to Menards. Otherwise, I could litterally go for a month without doing any. Assuming I can get about 3 days out of a pair of pants; and that I break out my cords and khakis to flesh out my denim.... but its sickening to think, that I sat and bought it all. But I couldn't have. Its just not like me to have THAT freaking much on hand. White t shirts? Sure. They get nasty, they are fairly cheap, and once they stretch out I really don't like them. So I have alot of those, and the requisite 1 spare package [un opened] on hand. For funerals [mine or otherwise] and the like where it could be important to need a fresh shirt. Socks? Shit yes. I have alot of socks. Really because, I don't throw them out. I've got socks, I've probably had since junior high school. I've got socks with holes, socks with no mate, and socks that I don't think are mine. But they are all loaded in that drawer. But my underwear count freaks me out. I mean, yeah, I buy a few pairs whenever I need to replace some. Yes, I own two lucky pairs, for the occasions when I hope to get lucky. But thats really understandable. 36 pairs, however, is not. So when I was counting and folding, I started thinking about where the hell it all came from. Sadly enough, I can recount for most of it. MOST. But its crazy like that. That I have a pile of boxers, to clothe a platoon, at any time.
Is it a collection? See, I really hope not. A collection implies something of a static, stick pins holding it to velvet, type of on the wall display... really, we're talking about the pile of yarns I was shocked to know I owned, come laundry day. Yes, I do laundry on a regular basis, but for some reason the idea of idiotic inventory levels has been floating in my brain. The same brain that says; really 18 plastic bags in my room is really too many. The same brain, that says; "I should come up with a system to rotate my clothing now that its about 83 degrees outside again." So here I am. Annnnnny way. I started doing laundry tonight, then set off for parts yonder, to rummage through storage totes of clothing. What I was looking for were all my warm weather clothing that I displaced to rapidly find my sweatshirts and longsleve t's for this year. [Why only this year? Well at this point last year, I was selling copiers; the only thing I could wear were dress shirts and suit coats.... and everything from before then, that I wore at Iowa, was packed up in a rush in totes and left to sit in storage] As I'm grazing through one anonymous bin after another, I start to run across other clothes. Clothes I didn't know I still had. Clothes that I thought, I'd parted ways with long, long ago. Alas!
With my arms loaded I returned home to do, yet even more, laundry! I managed to find a few t shirts of bands, and a couple pairs of pants I'd wanted for a while [namely my cords and my khaki paratrooper pants], and a pile of boxers. Yes, a pile. I had patterns I never remembered wearing. Well, not for a long time. Lots of plaids. Anyways, I started washing all that shit, and returned to my room to fold and put away the first batch... the batch I have been wearing. Thats when I realized it. I have too many pairs of boxers. I really do. My underwear is out of control. There, more words to bring that vomit reaction again. But yes, my underwear is out of control, and I know it. When it was all said and done, I counted 36 pairs. Fuck me. 36 fucking pairs of boxers. Thats rediculous. Thats unnecessary. Thats woman-like. But, here is my MONTH PLUS supply of boxers, washed and ready to go. And, I'm not all that sure I'm uncomfortable about, ahem, the comfort they give me.
Yeah yeah, aside from the killing trees, dolphins, and third world workers; my stock pile gives me some descent flexibility on future laundry dates. Really, now, I'm just bound by what I have to wear to Menards. Otherwise, I could litterally go for a month without doing any. Assuming I can get about 3 days out of a pair of pants; and that I break out my cords and khakis to flesh out my denim.... but its sickening to think, that I sat and bought it all. But I couldn't have. Its just not like me to have THAT freaking much on hand. White t shirts? Sure. They get nasty, they are fairly cheap, and once they stretch out I really don't like them. So I have alot of those, and the requisite 1 spare package [un opened] on hand. For funerals [mine or otherwise] and the like where it could be important to need a fresh shirt. Socks? Shit yes. I have alot of socks. Really because, I don't throw them out. I've got socks, I've probably had since junior high school. I've got socks with holes, socks with no mate, and socks that I don't think are mine. But they are all loaded in that drawer. But my underwear count freaks me out. I mean, yeah, I buy a few pairs whenever I need to replace some. Yes, I own two lucky pairs, for the occasions when I hope to get lucky. But thats really understandable. 36 pairs, however, is not. So when I was counting and folding, I started thinking about where the hell it all came from. Sadly enough, I can recount for most of it. MOST. But its crazy like that. That I have a pile of boxers, to clothe a platoon, at any time.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Not that I ever envisioned my blog to be someone else's blog... but holy shit. Here are a few great news excerpts I ran across today that I really just had to get up here.... I'll link them instead of posting the entire articles...
Memjet. [hint, go buy stock in them NOW]. To Release a printer with exceptional speed, function, and correct valued ink!!!! Check out the video of how fast it goes... all that for under $300 come production time!!!!
ESPN. [Steve Alford: Aloha means, I'm outta here!]. Is now set to become the new Head Coach at that mecca of basketball... New Mexico. Good luck with that. Remember, Iowa is the place that cut down, then relocated, and dropped the prices of the student section... and its still empty most nights.... not girls basketball night empty, but you get the idea.
Well I lied, I've got to drop one good article up here... In my continuing series of: Getting Arrested In the Quad Cities.... I bid you to give a warm welcome to; Mr. Esteemed Colleague, and Latin { YES... L A T I N } Professor.... Busted on Pot Charges! Glad to know that someone was on drugs, that thought it was possible for me to memorize all those paradigms!
Posted: QCONLINE.COM
Posted Online: Posted online: March 22, 2007 8:27 PM
Print publication date: 03/23/2007
Memjet. [hint, go buy stock in them NOW]. To Release a printer with exceptional speed, function, and correct valued ink!!!! Check out the video of how fast it goes... all that for under $300 come production time!!!!
ESPN. [Steve Alford: Aloha means, I'm outta here!]. Is now set to become the new Head Coach at that mecca of basketball... New Mexico. Good luck with that. Remember, Iowa is the place that cut down, then relocated, and dropped the prices of the student section... and its still empty most nights.... not girls basketball night empty, but you get the idea.
Well I lied, I've got to drop one good article up here... In my continuing series of: Getting Arrested In the Quad Cities.... I bid you to give a warm welcome to; Mr. Esteemed Colleague, and Latin { YES... L A T I N } Professor.... Busted on Pot Charges! Glad to know that someone was on drugs, that thought it was possible for me to memorize all those paradigms!
Posted: QCONLINE.COM
Posted Online: Posted online: March 22, 2007 8:27 PM
Print publication date: 03/23/2007
Augie prof, wife charged with growing pot
 |
| Photo: Submitted Emil Kramer |
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| Photo: Submitted Susan Kramer |
An Augustana College professor and his wife were arrested on drug charges Wednesday, after Davenport police said they discovered marijuana being grown in the couple's basement.
Emil Kramer, 42, and Susan Kramer, 43, of 1124 W. 9th St., Davenport, were arrested after police responded to a residential burglary call.
Several pipes and glass bongs -- consistent with those used in smoking marijuana -- were found in the home, according to police. Tests on residue from one of the pipes were positive for marijuana.
The couple had seven marijuana plants in various stages of growth in their basement, police said. Their home is also within 1,000 feet of Jefferson Elementary School.
Mr. Kramer is an assistant professor of classics at Augustana and Mrs. Kramer is an administrative assistant in the education department, according to the college Web site.
Each was arrested and charged with possession of drug paraphernalia, drug possession and delivery of marijuana, and failure to make drug stamp tax payment. The marijuana plants were not affixed with the proper tax documentation, police said.
Mr. Kramer was free late Thursday on $19,500 bond, and Ms. Kramer was free on $19,825 bond, according to the Scott County Jail.
College spokesman Kirby Winn said Augustana officials had been informed of the arrests and "will monitor the status of the investigation as charges are brought."
The college does not have a set policy regarding charges for drug use -- or any crime for that matter -- that occurs off campus, Mr. Winn said.
"There is a point where the institution would intervene, but it's really too early with regard to this situation to tell what that would be," he said.
Augustana does prohibit the "unlawful manufacture, distribution, dispensing, possession, or use of controlled substances" anywhere on college premises or property, or as part of any college-related activity, such as a trip, Mr. Winn said.
Any employee or student of the college found to have violated this rule will be subject to disciplinary action up to and including dismissal, according to Augustana's handbook.
Any employees must notify their supervisors and the business office of any criminal drug statute conviction for a violation only occurring on college premises or as part of any college-related activities, the handbook says.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Take two things that are awesome as fuck, put them together....
and you get....
The Ninja Turtles Going Metal As Fuck!!!!
go youtube.com!
and btw....
I STILL OWN the cassette tape of when the 'Turtles did the whole Rock gig...
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Hookers Getting Busted, Davenport Chamber of Commerce Thinks To Its Self, 'O What A Wonderful Life!'
Posted Online: Posted online: March 14, 2007 8:49 PM
Print publication date: 03/15/2007
Six arrested on prostitution charges
By Brian Krans,
Davenport Police officers arrested six people in a sweep of alleged prostitutes and their clients Wednesday.
The Tactical Operations Bureau hit areas they say are known for drug and prostitution activity in the downtown area, in the 300 block of Brown Street, according to court records.
Undercover officers were allegedly propositioned by women while surveillance units allegedly observed "Johns" picking up and propositioning women.
According to court records, Christine G. Grafton-Lindell, 28, of 528 W. 6th St., Davenport, was arrested with John M. Schultz, 28, of 4654 Madison Ct., Davenport. Police allege they observed him pick her up in the 300 block of Brown Street around 2 p.m. The two then went to a semi-trailer parking area -- "a popular place for Johns and prostitutes to go" -- and had sex, according to the affidavit.
Both Ms. Grafton-Lindell and Mr. Schultz were charged with loitering for prostitution.
According to court records, also arrested and charged in the bust were:
- Dale Pataska, 59, of Mile, Iowa. An affidavit states he agreed to pay Amber L. Bishop, 25, of 530 N. Ripley St., Davenport, $30 for sex in the 500 block of W. 9th Street. Both were charged with prostitution.
- Ms. Bishop also was charged with possession of a controlled substance and possession of drug paraphernalia. Police allege she had a crack pipe and a generic form of Xanax on her without a prescription.
- Kimberly Lynch, 21, of 510 Liberty St., Muscatine, was charged with prostitution after offering to perform a sex act for $20 in the 1600 block of W. Third Street. She also was charged with harassment for allegedly giving police a false name to hide a warrant from Muscatine County.
- Angel M. Brown, 25, of 1526 Kirkwood Blvd., Davenport, was arrested on outstanding warrants for several counts of prostitution and operating while intoxicated.
All those arrested made first court appearances in Scott County District Court Wednesday morning. Further court dates were unavailable.
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| Photo: Submitted Christine G. Grafton-Lindell, prostitution charges |
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| Photo: Submitted Angel Brown, prostitition charges |
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| Photo: Submitted Kimiberly Lynch, prostitution charges |
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| Photo: Submitted Amber Bishop, prostitution charges |
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| Photo: Submitted John Schultz, prostitution charges |
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| Photo: submitted Dale Pataska, prostitution charge |
Thursday, March 08, 2007
.... Of course, there are other rediculous things out there I could talk about.
I suppose something that makes me just shudder in the thought of how stupid its become: Reunion Tours. Yes. I'm talking about the tendency of all things musical to turnaround 9 years after they break up and do a money grubbing reunion tour. Or, tours. See. Kiss thought they were doing something original when they did it... by it, I mean the endless parade of reunion, last of, no more coming back, cash grab tours. But now its not only popular, but its probably expected. I mean, on the one hand, I am stoked about possibly going to see Ronnie James Dio with Black Sabbath errrrrrr Heaven and Hell; something smells a tad bit funky about it all... since they did this once before you know. Then there is Immortal. A horridly humorous black metal band that decided to come back and tour... some more. Which Immortal is only of note because of THIS, the single greatest music video evvvvvver! [or this version, set to the Benny Hill theme song!] Or a how about Audioslave splitting up, so that Rage Against The Machine can have their reunion tour, and the rumored Soundgarden reunion can happen. sigh. Its all becoming so tired. Even the "Alice In Chains" reunion, which ofcourse is missing one important person... seems rediculous... almost to the point of Iowa State Fair Grand Stand Show embarrassament... soon there will be a tour of the Jackson 5, with Tito and a few puppets... and maybe some boy Jacko molested, will wear the Captain Crunch jacket. its just bad... rediculously bad..
So in the news.... [trying to avoid the point that shit like this does seem to happen outside of Florida],I ran across this gem. And really how could I avoid it? It involves the elderly, improvised weapons, and a new Thunderdome attitude thats been lacking among the Social Security Sect of late....
Linked from QCONLINE.com.
and in a breath.... FUCK YES. Old people knocking the crap out of each other at the 'home! YESSS this really is my dream come true. And only one thing could possibly make it better; the MUGSHOT GOODNESS! Complete with the shit eating grin that just smears... "I Really Have No Idea Where I Parked" God dammit! All I have to do is let people be people, and they will relieve the tension in my life for me. Old people, cursing, bag of hammers.... instant Thunderdome! Golden.
Oh. I learned a new word the other day. Errrrr noun, I should say. "Turd Spoon" Figure it out? See, I'd have made the assumption it was some sort of sexual slang; its not. Aunt Jemima showed up at the store the other day; looking for a new toilet. She plugged hers up. Now, I dont know about you, but I've had some nasty poops, but never have they been candidates for Disposeable Toilet status.... back to Turd Spoons. So she was asking me about the old one; naturally, since its plugged [and not with paper!], how does she do removal and installation. I scratched my beard, and looked away. She let the awkward silence sit for a second, then started mumbling about needing a pump or something to transfer it to the new one [and my goodness, why wouldnt you do such a thing?!?!?]; and looked me dead in the eye, and ask if I sold "Turd Spoons." I got that grin that I can get. That one thats half Grinch, half mother-fucker, and topped off in Raisinettes.... "I'm not sure I've heard of that, is that a brand name product?" I let fly... Well no, it wasn't. She didnt think. But something, I guess, exists in her mind, somewhat akin to a soup ladel, specially designed for turd transfers. She calls it a Turd Spoon. I call it, another freaking rediculous thing from menards.
I suppose something that makes me just shudder in the thought of how stupid its become: Reunion Tours. Yes. I'm talking about the tendency of all things musical to turnaround 9 years after they break up and do a money grubbing reunion tour. Or, tours. See. Kiss thought they were doing something original when they did it... by it, I mean the endless parade of reunion, last of, no more coming back, cash grab tours. But now its not only popular, but its probably expected. I mean, on the one hand, I am stoked about possibly going to see Ronnie James Dio with Black Sabbath errrrrrr Heaven and Hell; something smells a tad bit funky about it all... since they did this once before you know. Then there is Immortal. A horridly humorous black metal band that decided to come back and tour... some more. Which Immortal is only of note because of THIS, the single greatest music video evvvvvver! [or this version, set to the Benny Hill theme song!] Or a how about Audioslave splitting up, so that Rage Against The Machine can have their reunion tour, and the rumored Soundgarden reunion can happen. sigh. Its all becoming so tired. Even the "Alice In Chains" reunion, which ofcourse is missing one important person... seems rediculous... almost to the point of Iowa State Fair Grand Stand Show embarrassament... soon there will be a tour of the Jackson 5, with Tito and a few puppets... and maybe some boy Jacko molested, will wear the Captain Crunch jacket. its just bad... rediculously bad..
So in the news.... [trying to avoid the point that shit like this does seem to happen outside of Florida],I ran across this gem. And really how could I avoid it? It involves the elderly, improvised weapons, and a new Thunderdome attitude thats been lacking among the Social Security Sect of late....
Linked from QCONLINE.com.
Police: 76-year-old beat 81-year-old with hammer
Comment on this story
 |
| Photo: Submitted Richard E. Johnson |
Davenport police arrested a 76-year-old man today, alleging he hit an 81-year-old woman in the head with a hammer.
Richard Edison Johnson, 76, a resident of the Davenport Lend-a-Hand complex at 401 w. 3rd St., is charged with attempted murder. Police say he hit Elizabeth A. Alwine, 81, several times in the head with a hammer after an argument in the building's smoking area. She also is a resident of the complex.
The incident occurred about 11:30 a.m.
Ms. Alwine was taken to Genesis East Medical Center, where she was treated and released. .
Mr. Johnson is being held at the Scott County Jail on $32,500 bond.
[end]and in a breath.... FUCK YES. Old people knocking the crap out of each other at the 'home! YESSS this really is my dream come true. And only one thing could possibly make it better; the MUGSHOT GOODNESS! Complete with the shit eating grin that just smears... "I Really Have No Idea Where I Parked" God dammit! All I have to do is let people be people, and they will relieve the tension in my life for me. Old people, cursing, bag of hammers.... instant Thunderdome! Golden.
Oh. I learned a new word the other day. Errrrr noun, I should say. "Turd Spoon" Figure it out? See, I'd have made the assumption it was some sort of sexual slang; its not. Aunt Jemima showed up at the store the other day; looking for a new toilet. She plugged hers up. Now, I dont know about you, but I've had some nasty poops, but never have they been candidates for Disposeable Toilet status.... back to Turd Spoons. So she was asking me about the old one; naturally, since its plugged [and not with paper!], how does she do removal and installation. I scratched my beard, and looked away. She let the awkward silence sit for a second, then started mumbling about needing a pump or something to transfer it to the new one [and my goodness, why wouldnt you do such a thing?!?!?]; and looked me dead in the eye, and ask if I sold "Turd Spoons." I got that grin that I can get. That one thats half Grinch, half mother-fucker, and topped off in Raisinettes.... "I'm not sure I've heard of that, is that a brand name product?" I let fly... Well no, it wasn't. She didnt think. But something, I guess, exists in her mind, somewhat akin to a soup ladel, specially designed for turd transfers. She calls it a Turd Spoon. I call it, another freaking rediculous thing from menards.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
I mean really... there could be a long list. But lets start with the Japaneese, shall we?
From This Article [copied below]
[Using the masturbation technique, coupled with the Eye To Eye Step 3]
And if that doesn't scream to you, then you're dead inside. Scratch that... "obviously" is your genitals that are dead inside. Shame on you Dr. Nameless Japaneese Guy; you spent a career stratifying and mapping out what I called; HIGH SCHOOL. Eessh. Even the smack he lays out against masturbation... in typcial subtle Japanese explantion style.. "if you complain that masturbation is pretty ridiculous as it fails to give you somebody else's warm touch, it will never bring your spouse to your bed" Really? REALLY? Oh yeah. You're right. Thats probably why I'm stuck masturbating in bed by myself anyhow, because that wife of mine got mixed signals. I always figured, laying in bed, masturbating away, would do nothing but yield favorable increases of sexual encounters? What, thats creepy? Oh. Wait. Even Japan calls this absurd, Japan, home of 1039 men ejaculating on womens faces, Japan, home of the second most shit-porn consuming nation [second to Germany], even Japan, who finds old men bedding 9 year olds low brow, but legal, happens to find the practice of lying around expressing your masturbatory prowess; a poor attempt at a mating... I'm not sure where I drawn the line... at the Japanese social scientist researching this, or the mental image of a man laying in bed furiously masturbating away in hopes of attracting a mate--- errrrr a state of atleast mild un-sexlessness.... I'm not sure which is more absurd. Probably the masturbation thing. Probably.
Also, in my course of study.... err attempts at getting laid; Step 3 and Step 4, as identified, have always seemed a logical jump... Not so? Remember this is the Voice to Voice step, followed by the Touching Step. Got it. As he suggests, I should ask about a new restaurant, let them agree, then starting copping a feel. Got it. I honestly thing the masturbation thing might have more success. Really. I think I'll have better luck walking around masturbating, rather than waiting for this situation to work with someone, asking "Hey, have you eaten at Mongolian Grill?" ... "You HAVE?" ...[gropes].... [gets punched in the face]. See why this made the Things That Are Absurd post?
Keep in mind, somehow, that this is a 12 Step Program to remove Sexlessness.... 12 Steps also, oddly enough, rids alcoholism... I digress...
Oh... but there are more golden nuggets from the good doctor... "Shame, surprise, awakening, laughing and cry -- you once went through a whole lot of different emotions with nobody but your partner." Huh? I would say that honestly, if I found out the mating ritual involved masturbating on the bed, I think Shame, Surprsie, Awakening, and Laughing would all be emotions I'd feel. Its too good to pass up on this. Really it is... Anyhow... I'm going to ride out my luck with this masturbating thing.....
OUT
From This Article [copied below]
Slow Life, Slow Sex: Twelve steps to stopping sexlessness
[Using the masturbation technique, coupled with the Eye To Eye Step 3]
Dr. Kunio Kitamura was born in 1951. He graduated from Jichi Medical School and through his 30 years of research, is now the "voice of Japanese sexuality." Among his many books are "Shiawase no Sex (Happy Sex)," "Piru (The Pill)" and "Karada no Hon (The Body Book)."
Ending the undignified state of sexlessness isn't simply a matter of saying, "Right, let's go at it then," and racing off to the nearest bed. And even if you complain that masturbation is pretty ridiculous as it fails to give you somebody else's warm touch, it will never bring your spouse to your bed. It's pretty easy to see what lies behind the problem of middle-aged sexlessness -- communication. But communication problems are easy to talk about and difficult to solve. So that's where British zoologist Desmond Morris's 12 steps to ending sexlessness. There's no need to hurry. All you need to do is follow the 12 simple steps that lead to a final goal of having sex.
The first step is From the Eyes to the Body. Gaze at your partner until you start thinking, "Gee, that's a bit of all right." The second step is From the Eyes to the Eyes. Wait until your eyes meet, then stare at each other. If you feel uncomfortable, avert your eyes. Stage three is From Voice to Voice. Tell your partner about a great new restaurant and invite them to dine with you there. If they agree, you move on to stage four and touching. The next stages are From Hands to Hands, From Arms to Shoulders and From Shoulders to Waists. As the touching becomes more intimate, the amount of skin contact being made broadens. By stage seven -- From Mouth to Mouth -- you've moved on to kissing. Then, there's From Hand to Head, From Hand to Body, From Mouth to Breasts and From Hands to Genitals. Needless to say, the 12thand final stage is From Genitals to Genitals.
Some readers may see this process and think, "I don't have to go through all that rigmarole, do I?" or "Do I really need to be so touchy?" You shouldn't mention these things. Instead, why not take the opportunity to remember how you met your partner.
Shame, surprise, awakening, laughing and cry -- you once went through a whole lot of different emotions with nobody but your partner. The partner may not be somebody like (South Korean heartthrob actor) Bae Young-joon, but they are your partner, so why not go back to the beginning and try over again? I'm sure you'll find that if you do, you'll be in for a wonderful 2007. (By Dr. Kunio Kitamura, special to the Mainichi).
[end]And if that doesn't scream to you, then you're dead inside. Scratch that... "obviously" is your genitals that are dead inside. Shame on you Dr. Nameless Japaneese Guy; you spent a career stratifying and mapping out what I called; HIGH SCHOOL. Eessh. Even the smack he lays out against masturbation... in typcial subtle Japanese explantion style.. "if you complain that masturbation is pretty ridiculous as it fails to give you somebody else's warm touch, it will never bring your spouse to your bed" Really? REALLY? Oh yeah. You're right. Thats probably why I'm stuck masturbating in bed by myself anyhow, because that wife of mine got mixed signals. I always figured, laying in bed, masturbating away, would do nothing but yield favorable increases of sexual encounters? What, thats creepy? Oh. Wait. Even Japan calls this absurd, Japan, home of 1039 men ejaculating on womens faces, Japan, home of the second most shit-porn consuming nation [second to Germany], even Japan, who finds old men bedding 9 year olds low brow, but legal, happens to find the practice of lying around expressing your masturbatory prowess; a poor attempt at a mating... I'm not sure where I drawn the line... at the Japanese social scientist researching this, or the mental image of a man laying in bed furiously masturbating away in hopes of attracting a mate--- errrrr a state of atleast mild un-sexlessness.... I'm not sure which is more absurd. Probably the masturbation thing. Probably.
Also, in my course of study.... err attempts at getting laid; Step 3 and Step 4, as identified, have always seemed a logical jump... Not so? Remember this is the Voice to Voice step, followed by the Touching Step. Got it. As he suggests, I should ask about a new restaurant, let them agree, then starting copping a feel. Got it. I honestly thing the masturbation thing might have more success. Really. I think I'll have better luck walking around masturbating, rather than waiting for this situation to work with someone, asking "Hey, have you eaten at Mongolian Grill?" ... "You HAVE?" ...[gropes].... [gets punched in the face]. See why this made the Things That Are Absurd post?
Keep in mind, somehow, that this is a 12 Step Program to remove Sexlessness.... 12 Steps also, oddly enough, rids alcoholism... I digress...
Oh... but there are more golden nuggets from the good doctor... "Shame, surprise, awakening, laughing and cry -- you once went through a whole lot of different emotions with nobody but your partner." Huh? I would say that honestly, if I found out the mating ritual involved masturbating on the bed, I think Shame, Surprsie, Awakening, and Laughing would all be emotions I'd feel. Its too good to pass up on this. Really it is... Anyhow... I'm going to ride out my luck with this masturbating thing.....
OUT
Sunday, February 25, 2007
so when i step up to the microphone... it comes out a little something like this...
popin with the smack, readying to back track... here i am, and where have you been? seems like the only way people seem to notice im not around, is when there just is gigantic lulls in my bloglike activity. whatever. im here. the world is queer. what else do i need to say.
ive discovered something that all men who read this should go to and check out...
EXECSHIRTS.COM
absolutely the best way to donate 50 bucks to some money grubbing company. it does 3 things that i like, all rather well at the same time... first it gets me something nice... namely a custom sized dress shirt... seriously... if i go to the high and wide store, its difficult to buy that much cloth to roll my fat ass in... to get it into a shirt, then made to fit, then in styles id like... fucking gold. second... it exploits people in other countries. seriously, what is not to like about that? some thai whore-wash-out is making me a shirt! solid gold. third, its all over the internet. even better. net-commerce is a great thing. especially for something like this. i dont mind shopping... i dont.. its my most metrosexual fault that im aware of, but i dont like shopping at the mall stores where things never fit, where i deal with annoying people, and who knows how many people had sex in the pair of pants im trying on, before i did? see. that and the horrid music piped in these places... if its not some gay mix... errrrrrrrrrrrrr modern emotionally charged guitar inspired songs, its some whiny pop bitch, or some niggah thug rap music. none of which i enjoy. and i enjoy them all signifficantly less, when im doing things i dont like anyhow... so. internet commerce. a glorious thing. but the shirt fits well... took about a week to get [i paid the 10 bucks for expediated shipping], and it looks like it cost alot more than it did. seriously. all men, over 21 should own a nice, well fitting shirt, preferably with french cuffs. this is a great way to do it.
onto other things.... things that fucking twerk my gerk. or whatever the hell a gerk is. forget i said that. shit that puts me in a fit..
buying fucking games on cd... where the cd does nothing. case in point... .Red Orchestra. a fucking fantastic game, based on the soviet front of the second world war. thats good. based on the steam protocol for EVERYTHING. thats bad. contains two cds for installation, cd labeled DISC 2 is actually disc 1, cd labeled DISC 1 is actually disc 2. thats worse. still sitting here, 8 hours later, waiting on god damn Steam to let me down load a game, i just purchased, contained on two cds, but wont let me play. THE FUCKING WORST. seriously get a clue people. bounce me to the online service to validate my game... but dont sell me cds with installs, but force me to download it... i bought it so i wouldnt HAVE to wait on steam to download it. see my ire? but here i sit, pulling 68 k/sec for hours to get this game i thought i purchased.
fucking asshat [thats for you Ed] municipal snow plow operators. why? because i spent 2 hours shoveling this afternoon, and you all fucked it up in 3 minutes. weve got about 4 inches of snow, which is melting, and each shovel full weighs about 60 pounds right now.... so heres to another hour of breaking my back, to fix what you do. that and try to find a curb buddie. i dare you! while you do the best work of your shift plowing in people, you never seem to find 5 feet and closer to a curb when you should. god fucking dammit. i just dont believe it. that and youre getting 5.7 mega overtime pay per hour too Snowplow Driver Guy. besides which... you are in league with...
mr. god damn immigrant concrete laborer. why do you make the list, its february? because. fuck you. remember about 8 months ago, when you all decided to rip out my street on a whim? not even telling the city of Davenport when and why? yeah. when you replaced it, your hired help, which probably cant speak english, nor read municipal building code, decided to finish the concrete to grade.... in reverse. yes. water now is pooling in the street... in places its about 6 inches deep. and the storm water grate is about 8 feet away, sitting roughly 4 inches HIGHER than the plane of the street. see any problems Juan, Jorge, Miguel, or Manny? nope me neither.
hell, Daimler-Chrysler 5 Star Service Shops, get on the fucking list too. in the last two months, ive taken Big Red to you, and youve found a magnificent way to rip me for 280 bucks, and 210 bucks, for a repair that took you about an hour each time, with a part, you allegdge to be the cluprit, that costs less than 30 dollars. mega fucking shame on you ... you got on the list. yes.... it runs fine now. but does it really need to go down like that? every time? if at first you succeed, dont fuck them over the next time, they could notice it... thats my motto... you on the other hand.... or should i say, the other hand up your ass errrrrrrrr the Daimler Benz group has decided to put you all on the block, and sell you to... waaahahahahaha GM? good call. its like using a torpedo on a rubberduck.
to things that dont piss me off....
how about the idea of reliving the cd's you already own, but forgot about.. man.. i spent most of my time stuck indoors this weekend [hence the anger of the snowplows, and videogames] and spent some time combing through my stackds of cds... found some stuff i didnt know i had anymore... some other gems. but what a trip. in some respects its humbling. not the cds. but the emotions you attribute with certain cds. for whatever reason i found a cd yesterday morning that reminded me of getting dumped. it was one that i had in the car at the time, when she did it, id get real angry, drive around alot, then go home. all back when i was about 18. thats along time ago. and really, thats two big things ive really never thought about since then. that girl, and that cd. but by chance i ran across it. and its like everything was happening for the first time again. just weird how well we relate memories and events to innocuous things like songs that played in the background.
Red Orchestra finally fired up... im somewhat impressed. after a million hours to download what i purchased, i can finally play it. its a cross between DoD and Battlefield... the vehicles dont impress me really... the paitience it takes to fire them does! the in-game physics actually do account from some bullet drop and movement... its a challenge... like the iron sights on weapons... nothing goes where you shoot it; and for a game with this long of a draw distance [litterally twice what DoD is...] its nearly impossible to hit things more than 20 feet out. so far atleast.
should i talk about the Hole? maybe. lots of fun things are floating around at work. since jared left its been in somewhat of a dissarray... then they promoted me up.... now, if what i hear is correct, were going to have more personnel changes... great. im not sad to see soem people leave... errrrrrrrrrrrrrr get relocated because they cant do the job errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr i mean step down. its just that its such a pain in the ass to do it all at once... you know? wait 9 weeks or so to get everything else aclimated first... but no... anyhow, for me not much changed. i really do exactly what i had been doing for the past 5 months or so... i just get the mammoth 50 cents / hour raise, and a store login to change inventory and such. ho hum at best. no really movement or responsibility yet. generally though, im unofficially required to do 45 hour weeks.... well see how that works out too in the long run.
thats about it... i want to get back to RO for the time being... as Rome says...
GOOD NIGHT NOW!
popin with the smack, readying to back track... here i am, and where have you been? seems like the only way people seem to notice im not around, is when there just is gigantic lulls in my bloglike activity. whatever. im here. the world is queer. what else do i need to say.
ive discovered something that all men who read this should go to and check out...
EXECSHIRTS.COM
absolutely the best way to donate 50 bucks to some money grubbing company. it does 3 things that i like, all rather well at the same time... first it gets me something nice... namely a custom sized dress shirt... seriously... if i go to the high and wide store, its difficult to buy that much cloth to roll my fat ass in... to get it into a shirt, then made to fit, then in styles id like... fucking gold. second... it exploits people in other countries. seriously, what is not to like about that? some thai whore-wash-out is making me a shirt! solid gold. third, its all over the internet. even better. net-commerce is a great thing. especially for something like this. i dont mind shopping... i dont.. its my most metrosexual fault that im aware of, but i dont like shopping at the mall stores where things never fit, where i deal with annoying people, and who knows how many people had sex in the pair of pants im trying on, before i did? see. that and the horrid music piped in these places... if its not some gay mix... errrrrrrrrrrrrr modern emotionally charged guitar inspired songs, its some whiny pop bitch, or some niggah thug rap music. none of which i enjoy. and i enjoy them all signifficantly less, when im doing things i dont like anyhow... so. internet commerce. a glorious thing. but the shirt fits well... took about a week to get [i paid the 10 bucks for expediated shipping], and it looks like it cost alot more than it did. seriously. all men, over 21 should own a nice, well fitting shirt, preferably with french cuffs. this is a great way to do it.
onto other things.... things that fucking twerk my gerk. or whatever the hell a gerk is. forget i said that. shit that puts me in a fit..
buying fucking games on cd... where the cd does nothing. case in point... .Red Orchestra. a fucking fantastic game, based on the soviet front of the second world war. thats good. based on the steam protocol for EVERYTHING. thats bad. contains two cds for installation, cd labeled DISC 2 is actually disc 1, cd labeled DISC 1 is actually disc 2. thats worse. still sitting here, 8 hours later, waiting on god damn Steam to let me down load a game, i just purchased, contained on two cds, but wont let me play. THE FUCKING WORST. seriously get a clue people. bounce me to the online service to validate my game... but dont sell me cds with installs, but force me to download it... i bought it so i wouldnt HAVE to wait on steam to download it. see my ire? but here i sit, pulling 68 k/sec for hours to get this game i thought i purchased.
fucking asshat [thats for you Ed] municipal snow plow operators. why? because i spent 2 hours shoveling this afternoon, and you all fucked it up in 3 minutes. weve got about 4 inches of snow, which is melting, and each shovel full weighs about 60 pounds right now.... so heres to another hour of breaking my back, to fix what you do. that and try to find a curb buddie. i dare you! while you do the best work of your shift plowing in people, you never seem to find 5 feet and closer to a curb when you should. god fucking dammit. i just dont believe it. that and youre getting 5.7 mega overtime pay per hour too Snowplow Driver Guy. besides which... you are in league with...
mr. god damn immigrant concrete laborer. why do you make the list, its february? because. fuck you. remember about 8 months ago, when you all decided to rip out my street on a whim? not even telling the city of Davenport when and why? yeah. when you replaced it, your hired help, which probably cant speak english, nor read municipal building code, decided to finish the concrete to grade.... in reverse. yes. water now is pooling in the street... in places its about 6 inches deep. and the storm water grate is about 8 feet away, sitting roughly 4 inches HIGHER than the plane of the street. see any problems Juan, Jorge, Miguel, or Manny? nope me neither.
hell, Daimler-Chrysler 5 Star Service Shops, get on the fucking list too. in the last two months, ive taken Big Red to you, and youve found a magnificent way to rip me for 280 bucks, and 210 bucks, for a repair that took you about an hour each time, with a part, you allegdge to be the cluprit, that costs less than 30 dollars. mega fucking shame on you ... you got on the list. yes.... it runs fine now. but does it really need to go down like that? every time? if at first you succeed, dont fuck them over the next time, they could notice it... thats my motto... you on the other hand.... or should i say, the other hand up your ass errrrrrrrr the Daimler Benz group has decided to put you all on the block, and sell you to... waaahahahahaha GM? good call. its like using a torpedo on a rubberduck.
to things that dont piss me off....
how about the idea of reliving the cd's you already own, but forgot about.. man.. i spent most of my time stuck indoors this weekend [hence the anger of the snowplows, and videogames] and spent some time combing through my stackds of cds... found some stuff i didnt know i had anymore... some other gems. but what a trip. in some respects its humbling. not the cds. but the emotions you attribute with certain cds. for whatever reason i found a cd yesterday morning that reminded me of getting dumped. it was one that i had in the car at the time, when she did it, id get real angry, drive around alot, then go home. all back when i was about 18. thats along time ago. and really, thats two big things ive really never thought about since then. that girl, and that cd. but by chance i ran across it. and its like everything was happening for the first time again. just weird how well we relate memories and events to innocuous things like songs that played in the background.
Red Orchestra finally fired up... im somewhat impressed. after a million hours to download what i purchased, i can finally play it. its a cross between DoD and Battlefield... the vehicles dont impress me really... the paitience it takes to fire them does! the in-game physics actually do account from some bullet drop and movement... its a challenge... like the iron sights on weapons... nothing goes where you shoot it; and for a game with this long of a draw distance [litterally twice what DoD is...] its nearly impossible to hit things more than 20 feet out. so far atleast.
should i talk about the Hole? maybe. lots of fun things are floating around at work. since jared left its been in somewhat of a dissarray... then they promoted me up.... now, if what i hear is correct, were going to have more personnel changes... great. im not sad to see soem people leave... errrrrrrrrrrrrrr get relocated because they cant do the job errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr i mean step down. its just that its such a pain in the ass to do it all at once... you know? wait 9 weeks or so to get everything else aclimated first... but no... anyhow, for me not much changed. i really do exactly what i had been doing for the past 5 months or so... i just get the mammoth 50 cents / hour raise, and a store login to change inventory and such. ho hum at best. no really movement or responsibility yet. generally though, im unofficially required to do 45 hour weeks.... well see how that works out too in the long run.
thats about it... i want to get back to RO for the time being... as Rome says...
GOOD NIGHT NOW!
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Becoming A Crack-Stitute! Learn my system to create your keys to financial success! Or, study at home to receive your certificate in: Office Transcription, PC Repair, Radiator Technician, Paint Salesmanship, Restaurant Management, or Parking Lot Attendant!
just a little something i wrote up... kind of along the lines of those infomercials about how to make great money in real estate... BUY MY BOOK, LEARN THE SECRETS IN 3 EASY STEPS TO YOUR FINANCIAL FREEDOM! that kind of stuff. anyhow...
Becoming a crack-stitute, in three easy steps! By the Scott R. Alvarado, School of Business and Management!
STEP 1: Move into the most notorious subsidized housing area in town, or find the most seedy industrial area of town or run down trailer court available; this will serve as your office space! Its also a great place to beging networking for additional clients once you are prepared!
STEP 2: Create a substance abuse issue! Feel free to choose a group to specialize in: Heroin, Crack, Cocaine, Meth, Collegiate Drugs [weed, alcohol abuse, cough syrup], Prescription Dugs [methadone, vicodin, ketamine, pyscho stimulants, tranquilizers, anti depressants], and Make-shift Drugs [solvents, gasoline, model glue, amonia, paint thinner, burnt wire coatings, markers]. Remember to specialize in one group, but feel free to experiment to find which group is for you! Two things to remember, once youre addiction becomes crippling and complete, youve found your match! Secondly, choose your addiction based on select factors; including race, age, and especially locality... Keep in mind that abusing exotic drugs for your locality brings up your status, we want to bring it down to the level of your potential customers satisfaction!
STEP 3: Create damaging relationships and prospects that will forever alter your life, and discourage any sense of self worth or skillset you may have had! While the drug abuse helps find friends, your locality should severly limit your choices for income once drug abuse has set in fully. Understand that the key to suck-cess, in this business requires that your last course of action really be your best course of action.... so sell yourself! Once battered and beaten with great levels of devaluation, with no income, in a terrible environment, with a keen addiction to illicit substances, youll find out how special your talents really are. Youll also help uphold the system in place around you, often finding others just like yourself to aid in your transition!
Enjoy!
just a little something i wrote up... kind of along the lines of those infomercials about how to make great money in real estate... BUY MY BOOK, LEARN THE SECRETS IN 3 EASY STEPS TO YOUR FINANCIAL FREEDOM! that kind of stuff. anyhow...
Becoming a crack-stitute, in three easy steps! By the Scott R. Alvarado, School of Business and Management!
STEP 1: Move into the most notorious subsidized housing area in town, or find the most seedy industrial area of town or run down trailer court available; this will serve as your office space! Its also a great place to beging networking for additional clients once you are prepared!
STEP 2: Create a substance abuse issue! Feel free to choose a group to specialize in: Heroin, Crack, Cocaine, Meth, Collegiate Drugs [weed, alcohol abuse, cough syrup], Prescription Dugs [methadone, vicodin, ketamine, pyscho stimulants, tranquilizers, anti depressants], and Make-shift Drugs [solvents, gasoline, model glue, amonia, paint thinner, burnt wire coatings, markers]. Remember to specialize in one group, but feel free to experiment to find which group is for you! Two things to remember, once youre addiction becomes crippling and complete, youve found your match! Secondly, choose your addiction based on select factors; including race, age, and especially locality... Keep in mind that abusing exotic drugs for your locality brings up your status, we want to bring it down to the level of your potential customers satisfaction!
STEP 3: Create damaging relationships and prospects that will forever alter your life, and discourage any sense of self worth or skillset you may have had! While the drug abuse helps find friends, your locality should severly limit your choices for income once drug abuse has set in fully. Understand that the key to suck-cess, in this business requires that your last course of action really be your best course of action.... so sell yourself! Once battered and beaten with great levels of devaluation, with no income, in a terrible environment, with a keen addiction to illicit substances, youll find out how special your talents really are. Youll also help uphold the system in place around you, often finding others just like yourself to aid in your transition!
Enjoy!
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