Unemploymentation!!

2007 brought you great hits like:

Car-b-que on Rte. 29 North

Emission Test Failure

Debt ain’t nothing but a 4 letter word

Converters of the Catalytic Kind

What happens in Vegas gets puked up in the toilet

Crank Sensor Deprivation

I know why the debt collector calls

She turns left and I clip her rear (I wasn’t flirting)

Dumped while stuck in a beach house on vacation with her and her friends

I’m drunk and still the most responsible person here

No money means no gas and electricity

Debt Collectors do it from behind

Seeing Unicorns again (Inside joke)

Well now 2008 starts like a bang with the smash hit:

Unemploymentation!

That’s right kiddies! I get to rock out to the wonderful tune of joblessness. I know you’re jealous. I can see you turning green from here. And what a lovely shade it is. It reminds me of money. That which I will run out of quickly.

At the moment I’m not completely let go. They’ve given me a 5 month “grace” period. My manager was kind enough to give me this time when I told him that my lease on the apartment was up in June. And I repaid his kindness by not freaking out and destroying things.

There’s something sobering and all too “real” when your boss pulls you into his office, closes the door, and says “You might want to take a seat for this”. It seems that I was not performing up to snuff in my duties. Funny thing about that. I had thought I was improving. And as it turns out in the corporate world, no one tells you that you suck until it’s pink slip day. Luckily (and unluckily) for me my manager gave me the option of turning in my resignation.

I can’t really be pissed at anyone other than myself. Somewhere somehow I screwed up. Perhaps more than once. But due to that I’m being canned. (Or being asked for my resignation if you will. You know it’s like being told “You suck so bad we feel sorry for you. We’re going to dump your sorry ass but to make you feel better about yourself we’ll let you beg to be let go. Go ahead, beg. BEG FOR YOUR UNEMPLOYMENT!”) In a really bizarre way I relate it to when I was a kid seeing Bambi for the first time. I felt just about the same emotions when I heard “You’re mother can’t be with you anymore”. Sadness, pain, rage, and oddly enough the urge to drink myself into a coma. (funny how when you’re a little kid you seem to want to drink yourself into a coma when hit with really bad news. Go figure. Little kids are just really screwed up in the head!)

Last night I had a couple of beers and watched King Kong. The Peter Jackson version. I never saw it when it hit the theaters and figured I should watch it when I saw the DVD case at my mom’s house. (Mainly because I have no cable or suitable TV reception at my apartment. I also needed something to keep me occupied after having been told the aforementioned news.) It’s not a horrible movie. It’s got Jack Black in it, and giant gorilla fighting three (not one or two but THREE! Count them! THREE!) T-rexes! I mean who could ask for anything better. I especially love the part at the end where Kong looks at Anne with this look that says “Dammit woman! You’re nothing but trouble!”. There’s also tons of life lessons in this film. Lessons such as:

1. Skull Island is a shitty vacation spot.

2. Natives always pick a blonde haired white girl for sacrifice.

3. When the shit hits the fan the coolest black guy is going to die.

4. Cheap and corny vaudeville acts will soothe or entertain the savage beast.

5. Ultra large centipedes creep the hell out of me!

6. Just because a woman is running around through a prehistoric jungle in nothing but her nightgown doesn’t mean you’ll see boobies or even a nipple.

7. I like big butts and I cannot lie.

8. Screaming in a high pitched shrill tone will summon more T-rexes. But also Kong to your rescue.

9. A group of three T-rex would rather go after a tiny bite of a human rather than a full course meal such as a giant silver back gorilla.

10. Vines are your friend.

11. Giant prehistoric bat things are not your friend.

12. When in trouble and vines are not being very friendly, a giant prehistoric bat thing is your only hope.

13. You other brothers can’t deny.

14. Blondes fall in love with anything large, hairy, loud, and smelly. You just have to defend the blonde from hungry dinosaurs first.

15. Never trust Jack Black.

16. Any sort of gigantic bug creep the hell out of me. Even giant crickets!

17. Where have all the cowboys gone?

18. Punching something that resembles a giant nasty bloodworm or tapeworm is no good.

19. Jack Black can certainly kick much of the giant bug ass!

20. My mother will always call in the middle of the movie for no reason whatsoever.

21. Kong is not impressed by your pathetic CG induced juggling skills.

22. Sleeping in the arms of a giant gorilla while far away from home in a prehistoric wilderness is very comfortable.

23. Monkeys like to climb anything tall. Trees, mountains, or buildings. It’s their thing.

24. Blonde chicks get giant gorillas in trouble.

25. A gigantic silver back gorilla can stomp the crap out of three (once again count it! Three! Freaking 3!) T-rexes, but is prey to old lame and inaccurate guns mounted on a biplane.

With those hidden messages of guidance who could go wrong in their lives?! And now I wait for the King Kong versus Godzilla remake.

Well that’s pretty much all I have at the moment. I’ll probably have more to say later.

Until then, all you blonde girls remember that Kong LOVES you!

(Better stock up on the chloroform ladies.)

Anger muffins and Lead Pipe Lunches

Monday:

I stopped by mom’s house after work. You just have to love “Mom’s”. It’s the best damn restaurant/grocery store there is. Well because the food is usually free. Well as far as monetary concerns go. My mother, I have to do chores such as mow the lawn, fix something, or lift something heavy. Oh and I also have to wash my dishes. But that’s a small price to pay, well until something gets pulled or strained.

So I was dining happily (on a very delicious salmon) and making good use of mother’s cable connection. My sister and my mother stroll into the room flop on the couch and drop a bomb on me. The type of bomb that makes you drop your fork and stare slack jawed while your brain races at a million miles per hour with different variations of “WTF did they just say?!”. While I’d love to go into detail what family news was unleashed upon me I cannot. It’s not my story to tell. Well at least not yet. But truthfully the confusion starts on Sunday.

My mother had called while I was at Inq’s place. The phone rang 11 AM while we were all still dozing happily in our inebriated slumber. I’m sure you all know that after a night of drinking and 5 hours of sleeping the last thing you want is to be woken by someone calling your cell phone. (BTW I have the same ring tone as the main character from “OldBoy”. I believe the name of the tune is “Cries and Whispers”. For those of you who have seen OldBoy you’ll understand how freaking awesome that is. Anyway…) Unfortunately when mom is on her cell she talks unnecessarily loud. This makes for a very grumpy time in the morning. Not the first conversation you want in the morning. The conversation goes as such (mind you all the mom parts are LOUD):

Me: Hello?

Mom: Hey!

Me: Hi mom.

Mom: Where are you?

Me: I’m at Inq’s place. I crashed here last night.

Mom: Oh, well do you think you could be home in about 30 minutes? There’s something I need to talk to you about.

Me: I doubt it. We went to bed about 5 hours ago, Inq drove me, and he lives more than an hour away.

Mom: Oh. Well nevermind then. We’ll talk about it later.

Me: What’s up? Is something wrong?

Mom: No no. It’s nothing traumatic. It’s not critical we talk today.

Me: No really mom… what’s up? Is something wrong?

Mom: It could be good or bad.. depending on how you look at it. It’s something that will affect you in the future.

Me: What? Just tell me please. You’re freaking me out.

Mom: I’d rather not talk about it on the phone. We’ll talk about it later.

Me: And now I’m worried.

Mom: Don’t worry. We’ll talk about it later. Come over on Monday for dinner. And don’t go trying to question around to find out.

Me: You’re being kinda cryptic and elusive. I don’t like this.

Mom: Monday.

Telling someone not to worry and then not telling them what’s going on is giving them a free plane ticket to Manic-Freak-Out-Land. My family is always like this. If they can’t get you face to face on the spot there’s always sort of cryptic bizarre message. It’s like being related to mystery novel writers. Something goes down and you have nothing but bread crumbs and oddly related clues until you come to the end of their machinations. That’s when you suddenly find out that it was the butler in the bathroom with a toothpick.

There will be more to this later.

Tuesday:

I was at the coffee shop drawing happily when I caught a glimpse of a face I hadn’t seen in a long long time. It was my friend Suzie. She’s a sweet girl who I met when she was 13. I used to work with her older sister, Jenn, at a bookstore called Bibelot. (Bibelot is French for small trinket or treasure. It’s also French slang for testicles.) Jenn was a lot of fun. We were both supervisors. She would bring her sister to work with her a couple of days each week. Those were always awkward days. Suzie is and was a somewhat artistic type. Once she found out that I made with the arts stuffs she would tail me. I’m not talking about having a shadow. I mean it was like having a growth that suddenly sprouted. You’d cut it off but a few times each week it would grow back. And it talked! A million words a minute talking. The type without breathes or pauses about topics you couldn’t care less about. A few times I managed to dump her back into her sister’s care. But sooner or later she ended up standing next to me prattling on and on.

Anyway, I had run in to Suzie and the told me that she worked at the Game Stop a couple of shops down. As it turns out she works with my old friend Yarnell. Yarnell is someone that I knew from high school. He and I used to get along great unlike most of my other high school “peers”. I strolled with Suzie back to her place of employment because Yarnell was working at the time. As I strolled into the store I came across another classmate. I will call him OE (yes those would be initials). I’d like to state that sometimes (most times) I really despise running to into my old high school classmates. The moment I walked in I realized who it was and I remembered my hatred for him instantly. He looked up with glazed over eyes and smiled. There were the usual greetings and handshakes. OE shook my hand and continued to talk as if we used to hang out as the best of friends in high school. (see where I’m going with this?) I guess for some, when they leave the Thunder Dome known as high school they forget things. And some of us don’t forget. (The majority of you I hate. HATE!) OE used to torment and torture me. I was just some chunky art freak and OE was a “jock” on the lacrosse, basketball, and football teams. He was an oversexed muscled up asshole. Day after day he would push, shove, spit on, beat up, or chase anyone smaller than himself, myself included. But now that time has passed he seems to have forgotten those moments. And I must say that perhaps the influences and vices he has caused the lapses in his memory.

OE prattled on and on as if I were not one the kids he harassed and beat back then. Glassy eyed and slurred speech he twitched and scratched his unkempt beard constantly. One thing I did notice was that in high school he was so much bigger and stronger than me. And now I am taller, more toned, and stronger than he is. (I found out the strength issue when I shook his hand. His grip was shaky and weak.) After a while of chatting, me mainly talking to Yarnell, I decided to depart. OE’s twitching and scratching was getting on my nerves. Our parting went like this:

Me: I’m taking off.

Yarnell: Take care man.

Me: You too.

Suzie: Oh… do you have to go? You could come to the club with my boyfriend and me. We’d have a lot of fun! You can crash at our place if you want.

Yarnell: Naughty!

Me: Thanks but I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn. And I am not a club type person. Unless it involves an actual club for which is used to dispense with the beatings profound. I’ll catch you guys later.

OE: *incoherent mumbling* Maybe I’ll see you again.

Me: I hope not.

OE: *scratching and stumbling* What?

Me: I don’t know what you on man, but if you even remotely believed that we were or are friends you are wandering a world of confusion. You treated me like shit in high school. And I despise you. I have a serious fully engorged hate-on for you. And lets face it you never liked me either.

Yarnell: *whispered* The hell?

OE: What? *twitch* I don’t… what?

Me: I’m not glad I ran into you again. Every time I look at you I get angry. Being that I don’t want to be arrested for force feeding you a brick I’d rather not run into you ever again.

(At this point OE shirks away from me and I derive so much pleasure from it. Idle threats go a long way.)

Yarnell: You alright man?

Me: Yarnell lets be honest. The next time I see skeletal ass monkey he’s most likely going to be asking me if I have any change. Then I’ll get angry. Because I saw him and he had the nerve to speak to me. And then comes the brick eating. I do NOT have fond buddy buddy memories of him and would like to go back to forgetting that he exists. And he can go back to rotting away.

(At this point Suzie is staring in disbelief at what is playing out around her.)

I really think that OE actually didn’t remember or know who I am. I was just a familiar face. But at the same time I garnered a delightful amount of pleasure from the incident. (yes I know that picking on a crack head is probably very petty. But dammit! I’ll get my vengeance when and where I can. Don’t you judge me!)

I don’t know what it is about running into assholes from high school. Every time they act as if you were good friends or at least chummy on some level. It’s like they’ve forgotten that they made someone’s life hell for 8 hours a day for 4 years. Maybe they haven’t forgotten. Maybe they’re hoping that their prey from high school doesn’t remember. If so, that’s both insulting and STUPID.

If I had spent 4 years torturing someone and ran into them on the street years later I would NOT go out of my way to speak to them. I would actively avoid them because my sense of self preservation is too strong. And if they saw me I would expect to eat a few bricks. Because I as an ass to them for 4 years. YEARS! The kind of stuff sticks and starts to rot (or it hardens into a nigh indestructible crystalline shell of angst and rage) . It makes for some very bitter memories and potentially volatile reunions. Because they HATE you. They associate your face with that of unhappy times.

Oh your probably thinking, “We’re all human. We all make mistakes. And most times after a few years people forgive and forget”. And I’m thinking that you’re a hopelessly optimistic moron. Sure they might forgive. But they sure don’t forget. (unless blunt trauma to the head or copious amounts of drugs are involved) And what is forgiveness anyway? Some intangible idea that someone is not going to hold your past misdeeds against you? Screw that! You’re going to have to give me some legal documentation stating that you will refrain from serving me lead pipe lunches as a payment for my high school assholery. (I like that. I might have to use that word later.)

Lucky for me I was not the high school bastard. Most people from high school I run into have fond memories of me. Although there are a few people I’ve run into who though weren’t mean to me, they weren’t kind to me. They were pretty apathetic towards my existence and that’s fine. UNTIL they, like most of the others, act as if we were buddies. To that I scream internally, “Mo Fo! You don’t know me! I have 5 good friends from high school and you are not one of them!”

I have a lot of anger muffins (I’ll tell you about it later) I’ve baked for these impromptu reunions and old high school “buddies” I keep discovering for the first time. And for those like OE, I have some lead pipe lunches and delicious brick deserts. Because we were such good friends, I figure it would be a good gesture to treat you to a meal.

Should any of you “buddies” be reading this please note that I will not be signing any documents.

My Weekend: Frozen Geeks and Frightened Rabbits

First let me start off by warning you that I am a geek. In fact I’m an Omni-Geek.

I am an art geek, anime geek, movie geek, videogame geek, and an RPG geek. No, you are not going to find me slack jawed staring intently at the most recent game magazines, or writing/drawing fan fic/art of anime characters. You’ll most likely find me here drawing. I like it there. It’s were everybody knows my name… and they’re always glad I came. I am more of a reserved geek. Sure I had my moment when I younger where I thoroughly embraced my geekitude and openly expressed it to everyone. Then I realized that it just made me a geek geek. You understand what I mean right? A geek who geeks out about being a geek. And that’s just not right. So I stopped. That and no one loves you when you’re a geek. So cut it out!

The areas of geekdom I refuse to tread in are as follows:

LARPing

When I was younger I did some time running around a park or college campus decked out in some cheaply made medieval getup swinging a boffer sword. That foolishness carried on into bonfires, cookouts, and occasional campouts in someone’s backyard. A time where the men felt free to act as raving lunatics and either hit or hump things. Drunken revelries abounds and hot steamy moments in tents found. (I never had any of those “moments”. Because no one loves a geek, not even other geeks.) Everybody had their “name” and their “rank”. The group I was a part of was a small local group… a small local creepy group. I’d give you a link but I don’t want to scare you (or have to remember or relive all that shame). With so much fun and socializing why did I stop?

One day a little girl looked at me in my “garb” and asked her father, “What’s that man doing?”. To which her father replied, “Acting like a socially retarded asshole.”. Actually I just felt, looked, and acted like a moron. That and I learned a lesson which was, “Even if it’s a foam covered PVC pipe we use as a sword and it was most likely an accident, when you get hit in the face you ARE going to flip out. That crap hurts!”.

So you will not find me flailing a large foam sword, pretending to be a vampire or werewolf, or speaking in crappy Elizabethan. I will visit the Ren Fair every now and then though. Mmmmm turkey leg…..

Miniature Wargaming

I tend to avoid this genre of gaming. I do not have the patience to paint an entire army of miniature soldiers who are ultimately going to do nothing but gather dust on a long forgotten shelf in the back of my closet. Also the games are very tactical. Meaning there is a need for “tact”. Yeah.. that’s not me. I’ll play a few tactical video games. But there’s a difference. If I get pissed off at the game I can rip the game from the console and fling it across the room. There, game over, I won. This is something that I cannot do to my opponent during a tabletop wargame. I’m sure there are laws against me removing someone’s heart. Although it too would be a way to win… a fun one.

Anime or Videogame Cosplay

My daily wardrobe is bad enough as is. And I do believe I already look like a moron most times. I see no need to dress up (or down) in order to make a further spectacle of myself. I do have to say, some of you ladies know what your doing. And then there’s this guy.

Furry Cosplay

You’re most likely thinking that since this is cosplay it should be grouped with the previous listed. But no. This thing is its own entity. And within it is yet another subculture. A frightening anthropomorphic grotesquery representing some people’s desire to be and/or hump their teddy bears or pets. There’s a whole bunch of scary WTF in this geekdom. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against anthropomorphic cartoons, comics, etc. Hell I grew up on the stuff. From Disney films to things like The Thunder Cats. I loved The Thunder Cats. Except for Snarf. He pissed me off and creeped me out all at the same time. This subculture/mutation of “Furries” is one that seems to garner arousal from dressing as Sparky and getting frisky with someone else in a cracked out mascot costume. I usually see them scattered about at Otakon. Generally harmless as most of them are just the run of the mill Furry Cosplayers. But there are a few out there ready to “yiff” someone. And some don’t care if it’s furry or not. I don’t fault them for having a fetish. But I do fault them for looking at the dog funny. And I also damn you for making Bugs Bunny seem so unwholesome to me.

I’m sure there are few other geekdoms that I avoid. I’ll most likely end up listing them later. Now on with the show.

Saturday:

So now that you’ve been warned of my geekery. On Saturday around 2:00 PM my friend Inq (that’s his nickname. I don’t know how it came about but I think I had a hand in it) picked me up for a fun session of Role Playing Games. (See.. geekery right there.) Well as it turns out Inq lives in the attic of an old two bedroom house out in the middle of nowhere. Do you know what that means? That means the heating in the joint is all sorts of screwed up. That whole scientific deal of heat rising that you learned a while back? Not there. This is the house that defies logic. The basement was warmer than the rest of the house. As you traveled up from the basement it got progressively colder and colder. And then there was Inq’s room were the game session was being held. It was a meat locker. We began congregating in the middle of the room huddling against each other for warmth. Cold stiffened knuckles cracked as we lethargically grasped pencils and dice. The smokers, myself one of them, took more frequent smoke breaks just to be in the warmer basement. (That’s where the smoking room is. It’s the garage connected to the basement.)

It got to a point where we contemplated the following:

1. Who had the most muscle. Did I mention that Inq lives out in vacuous oblivion known as the countryside? That means no one delivers to him, and the closest means for obtaining food is far enough for the driver to die from hypothermia and starvation before ever reaching their destination. (actually I’m kidding. There was a High’s down the street. But that’s not necessarily food. I’m sure all of you think that RPG geeks subsist on junk food. But there are a select few of us who’d rather have something of more substance.)

2. Who was the biggest. This was to decide who was to be gutted so that we could all crawl into their body cavity for warmth.

And then Inq turned on the space heater.

(by the way, sorry about that whole trying to gut you thing, Murray. Yes I know that Murray is not your real name but I can’t remember what it is. And I’m not about to call someone to find out. Because you’re really not all that important and no one loves a geek. Now stop it.)

So with the space heater going the room became delightfully warm. And we realized that we were uncomfortably close to each other.

As the night dragged on we lost more and more gamers to weariness or the need to work the next day. In the end it was Inq, Sharys (that’s her character’s name), and myself. This is basically the norm of our meetings. It ends up with just a few of us sitting around having drinks and shooting the shit. And I have to say we are experts at that. No one shoots the shit like we do. If you should ever need shit shot look us up. We’ll shoot the shit out of that shit. (On a side note. Maybe we could make money that way. Hells yeah! We could have commercials on TV and everything. “Who ya gonna call? Shit Shooters!”. Eh.. maybe not.)

During our evening we began trying to add more detail to our RPG adventure. You see what most of you non-gamers don’t know, and couldn’t care less about, is that a really good RPG session needs plenty of detail. You have to create and flesh out a world or scenario for optimal gamery. (Yes gamery is a word! I thought of it, wrote it, and therefore it is a word!) At some point it came to this:

Inq: Ok.. we need a new term for dignitary or diplomat.

Me: Buttsucker?

Sharys: ew?

Inq: Dip Smack!

Us: What?

Inq: You know… a diplomat.. smack talker… Dip Smack. Ok now one for president.

Me: Happy Homewrecker? (don't ask me where that came from. It had to be the drinks talking.)

*And then there was riotous laughter*

(We were tired and a little tipsy.)

Eventually we all passed out. The next morning I had a wonderful discovery. Inq is not a “pet” person. He tolerates it when his roomies have them. But he himself has no desire to have actual living breathing pets. I believe he makes up for this by turning his room into his pet. I had three sweaters worth of carpet shed all over me. And thus my first words for the day were, “You’re friggin room shed all over me man!”.

Sunday:

We all woke and basically sat around watching movies, eating homemade tacos, and once again shooting the shit. Except sober this time which means our aim was better. Around 8 PM Inq and I jumped in his truck and he drove me home. There I made another interesting, frightening, and hilarious discovery.

I got home to my apartment at around 9 and decided to do laundry so that I could have clean clothes for the week. The washer and dryer are in the laundry room/breakfast nook. (It’s a cheap cheesy apartment and that means all rooms have double use. This one actually serves to house the 4 rabbits I have) When turned on the lights I saw what I thought to be a LARGE grey rat rushing right at me. This incited and entitled me to leap straight up into the air as if the ceiling would reach out and cradle me protectively in its arms. This is not so. I landed on my ass… hard. It was then that I realized that the infamous grey rat was in fact my rabbit Skitters. “How can you mistake a rabbit for a rat?” you may ask. Skitters is fast. Even on tile she’s a speedy behemoth seeming no more than a blur of grey while in motion. And even though she’s a chinchilla grey mini rex breed, Skitters is large. (Well actually fat. Very fat. With a double chin. She’s that large because she overeats, because I feed her too much, because like everyone else in America I feed and feed the ones I love. Feed them until they’re too grossly obese to run away. Or they sue you for feeding them too much tasty food. And being that Skitters is a rabbit I have no fears of being sued.)

So after seeing Skitters make her way to me (after my ass met cold tile floor) I realized that she was terrified. She looked to me with the expression of, “Please help me. I’m lost and scared. Where is my home? Will you take me home?”. The setup of my 4 rabbit cages is two on the floor and the other two stacked atop of them. Skitters’ cage is one of the upper tier homes. It’s like a bunny apartment complex. And then I realized it. When I left on Saturday I fed the rabbits and forgot to close Skitters’ cage. Obviously the cute little dimwit decided to see what was outside and took a flying leap. Then she couldn’t get back up. She had been out of her cage without food or water for the entire time I was gone.

I stood in the room staring down at Skitters for a while. She stared up at me with those big adorable bunny eyes and that twitching nose. Then as if on cue she produced a cloudy yellow puddle about her. I just couldn’t be mad at her for that. I sympathized. If you locked me outside of my apartment for a day and a half I’m sure I’d wet the floor when you came back and just stared at me. Or I’d punch you in the face.

After returning Skitters to her rightful domain and mopping up her puddle of joy/fear, I began to search the apartment for signs of a bunny on the loose. It’s my belief that if I were to let all the rabbits or even one out and leave for a few hours they would have a wild and crazed party. It seems as though I was wrong. As I searched my entire apartment I only found signs of Skitters in the room where the cages are. Seems my bunny isn’t much of a part animal after all.

Hooray! 2007 is finally DEAD

Sorry for the delay in posting this, but I was hanging back to make sure 2007 was actually dead and gone. Sometimes they surprise you. And you really don't want to get caught in the middle of a bastard year's death throes.

Anyway.. My friend Claire demanded that I fill this thing out.

It's some sort of Year End Meme.

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?

I went to Las Vegas for work!

I went on an actual vacation! I spent a week in North Carolina relaxing on the beach and being drunk.

I got dumped WHILE on vacation WITH the woman who dumped me! (and that’s why I was relaxing on the beach being drunk)

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Well seeing as how my resolution is always “Don’t Die”, I can pretty much say that I did. At least I think so.

Is there something you’re not telling me?

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Being that I’m not in the medical field, people don’t generally give birth while "close" to me. And I'd prefer that they didn't start.

However the lovely Mrs. Grau, who is near and dear to all who know her, gave birth to the wonder bundle known as Bennet

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Ah.. baring your fangs now eh? Ready to lunge for those squishy emotional parts huh?

My grandmother on my father’s side passed away.

5. What countries did you visit?

I am considered an illegal substance in the majority of the countries anyone would want to visit.

Therefore I visited none.

But I’d also like to say that I’m also considered a delicacy the world round.

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?

Everything.

Does that count as a suitable answer? Because in 2007 I had “jack” and “shit”. And jack left town near the beginning of that year.

Deserting bastard. Always running away. THIS IS NOT CONTRIBUTING TO A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, JACK!

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

I don’t so much remember the dates as I remember the horrible life shattering scenarios that played out about me.

I could list them off right now but that would take all the fun out of filling out the rest of this thing.

Besides, I’m really bad with dates. Especially when I’m drunk. And yes, all types.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Not dying!

Isn’t that amazing?! I went through a whole year without dying!

I mean I think that’s just utterly spectacular that I managed to avoid the cold grasping hands of death.

What, you don’t think that it’s all that wonderful?

Screw you! Don’t you rain on my parade! I built all those floats by hand!

9. What was your biggest failure?

Lets not go there. Did you see my answers to previous questions?

That is one serious bucket of worms that we will not be opening.

I’d like to avoid therapy just a bit longer.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Unless broken hearts count, none.

Do they count? Are we getting points?

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Booze!

What?!

Don’t you judge me!

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Mine because I kept from flipping out during the scenario of being dumped while on vacation and stuck in the same freaking beach house for a whole week with the woman who dumped me!

My ex. Because she had worked on her communication skills and tried her best to avoid a painful breakup. (guess what… she failed.)

My rabbits! Because they’re rabbits. All cute and fuzzy.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Oh joy! It’s finger pointing time!

Mine because I should have completely flipped out during the scenario of being dumped while on vacation and stuck in the same freaking beach house for a whole week with the woman who dumped me!

My ex. Because even with the improvement her communication skills are still TEH SUCK! and didn’t avoid a painful breakup.

My rabbits! Because they’re rabbits… gnawing on everything!

14. Where did most of your money go?

I’d like to think that an industrious good hearted gnome or elf hides my money away from me. Hording it until it is a mountain of fortune. Then he will return it to me. (and if I ever find him I’m going to backhand him. That’s right.. “bitch betta have my money!”)

But no. I know exactly where it goes. It goes to everything other than making me happy. My car, and it’s newly formed penchant for dying, ate a lot of it.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Going to Las Vegas!

Going on vacation! (and then I stopped being excited.)

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?

All of the songs I listened to. Although I think someone of them came before 2007.

You’re not going to deduct points are you? Why are you keeping points on this?

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? 
b) thinner or fatter? 
c) richer or poorer?

1. Apathetic

2. Fluctuating

3. Did you not see the answer to #14? POOOOOORRRRRRRREEEEEERRRRRR

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Being motivated

Not being poor

Not getting dumped

Eating

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Being lazy

Being poor

Getting dumped

Not eating

(notice how I can just take answers from the first one and add a word to make answers for the second. Yeah! That’s called skill right there. Either that or being a lazy ass. I can never remember which one.)

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

I spent it with my siblings who live in NY.

We’ll not go into details or else I won’t have a blog post for later.

21. Did you fall in love in 2007?

With things, people or ideas? How about I answer them all!

Things: Booze, not my car, my gaming consoles (it’s an on again off again relationship), and probably a whole bunch of things I can’t think of right now.

People: Keep pushing my buttons and see what happens! Ok.. well there’s the rabbits. But how couldn’t you fall in love with them? They’re freaking bunnies! And YES they do count as people.

Ideas: All the horrid little ones floating around on my head.

22. How many one-night stands?

I don’t have a night stand. Are you going to give me one?

23. What was your favorite TV program?

You should put an “S” at the end of that so it can be plural.

Heroes

Journey Man

And a few others that escape my mind at the time. Maybe I’ll come back and add them in when I remember them.

Most likely not. I be lazy.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Surprisingly it’s not my ex girlfriend.

25. What was the best book you read?

Do comic books count?

I have a tendency to re-read books that I already have. So it’s continually the following:

Real Ultimate Power

Neverwhere

Stardust

Watership Down

Of Mice and Men

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah (too lazy to think and list the others but not too lazy to type a bunch of “blah”. I am a mystery.)

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?

AFI, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance

(DON’T YOU JUDGE ME!)

27. What did you want and get?

A year of me not dying.

Maintaining what minimal sanity I have.

A Nintendo DS. (I bought it for myself)

28. What did you want and not get?

Way too much and way too lazy to list!

29. What was your favorite film of this year?

300 (aka “The movie of fantastic abs”. Ha! I bet you thought I was going to do something like “THIS IS SPARTA!”… aw crap… I just did.)

Transformers

30 Days of Night

DEFINITELY NOT Ghost Rider!

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was in NY visiting my siblings up there. If you haven’t guessed my birthday is Christmas day.

So I spent the day watching them open presents and being somewhat disappointed that no one said happy birthday to me until sometime after 4 PM.

Oh and I turned 30. Yes the magical Three-Oh-Crap-I’m-Not-In-My-Twenties-Anymore!

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Please re-read my answers for the this. Remove all the negative or unhappy moments I listed.

There.. that would have made my year immeasurably satisfying.

Oh and while you’re at it.. 8 trillion in USD would help too.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?

Personal fashion what?

I guess it would be, “I have clothes… I put them on… I am wearing clothes!”

My coworkers found their year to be immeasurably satisfying when I learned the concept of “wearing” pants.

33. What kept you sane?

My rabbits and my friends.

Nope.. no smartass remark for this one.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Myself. I fancy myself all the time.

Especially when I’m wearing that tight leather outfit I love so much.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?

I’m allergic to political issues. They make me break out utter distrust for my fellow man.

36. Who did you miss?

Everyone who managed to dodge.

(smartassery abounds!)

37. Who was the best new person you met?

Captain Morgan?

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.

I’m not dead yet.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I don’t think 2007 produced too many songs with lyrics pertaining to my car catching fire, being dumped while on vacation, more car incidents, and having everything fall apart.

Wait.. I might be wrong. There’s probably a country song or 50 out there with that and much more in the lyrics.

I’m not looking them up for you.

Snack Time Terror *filler material*

I bought a "Slim Jim" from 7-11 today for lunch.
Just a little something snack on around 3 or 4 when I'm feeling restless and in that snacky mood.

Well I've commenced the snacking and realized something very WRONG with my choice in munchies.

I've been chewing on the same first bite of this so-called snack for about 3 minutes now. I'm hesitant to attempt to actually ingest this thing as it still seems to have plenty of vigor left. It's very resistant to the continual grinding and brutalizing it is suffering between my molars. What is this thing?! Did I somehow end up with the Bizzaro World snack item? Did I mistakenly pickup an underworld 20th level of hell version?

How long do I have to fight this accursed devil stick before I can actually consume it?

It's like chewing on faux meat flavored gum. Except chewier and with less satisfaction.

Is this what a cow goes through when it chews its cud?
This is quite disturbing... yet I persist.

I may give up in a few moments. I may pull the slobbery still intact remains of whatnot from my displeased maw. I may even toss it over the cubicle wall at my coworkers. I mean what repercussions could they deliver upon me? I don't think much (beyond using fecal matter or inappropriate body parts) could best having processed/re-processed chewed on not even meat nastiness soar through the air, strike you in the face, and then stick there until removed. See scenario below:

Me- Hey John!
John- What's up man?
Me- I've got a present for you!
John- It's not a kick in the junk is it?
Me- Nope. That was last week.
John- ok
Me- Here ya go!
*THWACK!* (note that it's a thwack and not a splat due to the fact that this thing is still somewhat solid in substance)
John- NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! why? WHY?!
Me- *maniacal laughter of the damned*
John- You have dishonored me, and my entire family. In order to regain my honor I will have to commit ritual suicide!
Me- Holy crap! Are you serious?!
John- Yes.. it is the only way.
Me- Want to borrow my pocketknife?
John- That would be nice.. Thanks. You're a good friend.
Me- Less chat more cut.
John- Hold on I have to prep.
Me- blah blah blah.. Hurry up and make with the shanking!

And there you have it. I believe I've proven my case with that. And the whole time I've still been chewing on the same chunk of immortal slim jim!


There are two things that I chew on for this long.
1. Gum... actual gum
2. The flesh of my freshly slain enemies.... you HAVE to savor that stuff.

My first real blog post. It's a little late but whatever...

I rolled into the office early to get some overdue work done before my official work day started. (Ok ok… I was there early because my ride had to drop me off 3 hours before I needed to be there.) During my early hours of working (surfing the internet for the most frivolous things ever) one of the warehouse employees passed through the sales office to gather the paper trash from the office. This is actually part of his job description and not due to the sheer laziness of the sales reps at my company. No really I swear! If I bag up my own trash this certain employee becomes quite irate.

So as I'm "working" I hear Shuffles moving his way through the offices and cubicles.

DIGRESSION!:

(Being that this could be considered my first "actual" blog post let me explain a few things. "Shuffles" is an employee of my company who works in the warehouse. In fact he's worked for my company and sister companies longer than I've been able to drink. Throughout his stint at my company he's had many nicknames. Whopps or Whoppers due to the fact that he vaguely… very vaguely.. resembles the beloved and infamous "King" of a very famous fast food restaurant, and JC due to his initials. Those are just a few. Here I will refer to him as "Shuffles". Why? Because the man is LARGE and shuffles when he walks. I didn't give him this nickname to make fun of him. It's just the easiest way for me to remember him.)

End of digression:

While Shuffles is moving through the offices I realize that he's humming. Well not really humming. Shuffles is huffing, humming "Winter Wonderland", and well… making what I can only describe as a motorboat on turrets impersonation. I so wish I had a audio clip for all of you to listen to! It was like listening to a skipping CD of "Winter Wonderland" through a whale's bladder while under water, with multiple choking motors, and rabid lamprey-wolverine-hybrids trying to chew their way through your brain. I was dumbfounding at first. But after a while you end up humming something along the lines of "Walking in a Wint-brrr-brrr-crap-brrrrrrrrrt-hrgh-gasp-hrasp-frrrt-mmmmm-hrk-hrk-blarg-grrr-brrr Wond-drrrr-errrr-argh-frrrr-lonnnn-derrrrrrrrrr-Ngh *Gasp wheeze*".

I’m not exactly sure as to why Shuffles makes motor boat noises. What I do know is that it’s somewhat disturbing to hear a large 40+ year old man making the same spitty flappy lipped noise that you’d hear from a 4 month old baby.

More things about about Shuffles to follow!

I was sent the most wonderful link ever! (I'm kidding of course).

The end is nigh! http://www.icv2.com/articles/news/11785.html

(Go ahead… take a peek at the link. I’ll wait for you to get back.)

Which resulted in the following conversation with two coworkers:

Me: Mr. T don't need no Singleton to direct an A-Team movie!
Mr. T can direct the movie himself.
Don't you be givin me no jibba jabba! T is directing/acting genius!
Mr. T studied at Cambridge!
I pity the fool who don't see T's movie!

CW1: There is something not right about you! This just means they are reaching… really reaching… but what are they going to do without a writer?

Me: The usual thing Hollywood does when they have no plot or actual script. Explosions and gratuitous nudity. I think they should do some role swapping as Hollywood is apt to do. You know.. like have a white guy play B.A. Baracus and the rest of the crew is black.

CW2: I wouldn't mind having Face be played by Jessica Biel... yummy.

Me: You're a genius! An all female crew for the A-Team! Brilliant!

And some stuff for you to read!

I believe that managers have a special unwritten job description to be annoying. Also to make annoying demands subtly guised as “requests”. Things like the following.

“Please limit your smoke breaks for the day”

“Please use the internet for work related projects only.”

“Please take a reasonable lunch break.”

“Please try to refrain from using inappropriate language in the office.”

“Please do not talk smack about the upper management.”

“Please stop browsing porn sites on the company’s time and internet connection.”

“Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Please take your hand out of your pants.”

“No really, please stop looking at me like that.”

“OMG! Please don’t point that at me!”

Blah blah blah….

Now my manager has found new, interesting, and most personal way to be annoyingly demanding. “What is it?” you’re asking. Well my manager in his sick and twisted insight has found a way to get his “demands” met with merely music. It’s only useful during this time of year. You know, the “Holiday” time of year. The time of year where everything becomes sickly sweet and disgustingly full of “cheer”. No not the laundry detergent. I’m talking about the weak and fake “joy to the world” spirit that fills everyone and makes them act WAY outside of their norm during “that time of year”. It’s like a seasonal PMS that affects every ass who wants to pretend they’re a good person around the Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza time of year. (Did I miss a season or holiday?)

Anyway, during this particular time of year my manager CRANKS the holiday music. It is, what I have to admit, a genius surgical strike. He seems to wait until we are full and fed up with “holiday cheer” to start his assault. At that point he calls us into his office for a short conference. And that conference is chocked full of holiday music cranked at nearly ear bleeding volume. At that point we reps are usually dying to either have him shut up or to get away from the “music”. I swear this is a brilliant tactic. Every time this happens I end up doing what he wants just to escape the audio holiday cheer suppression of his office.

BTW:

If I have to hear one more of (insert random pseudo-famous really not all that great music artist)'s rendition of a tired played out holiday season related tune… THINGS WILL BE DESTROYED!

I'm serious!

Everywhere you turn they're blaring regurgitated faux holiday cheer in audio format.

And it's the same damn songs!

This version is slower.

This version has a "punk" feel to it.

This one the "artist" decided to extend your agony by inserting 10 minutes of them attempting really bad scat singing in the middle of the song. (COME ON!! Whoever that was I caught a snippet of the other day seriously needs to ski ba bop ba dop the hell up!)

It's like having someone vomit partially digested candy canes and eggnog in your ear… all day!

I'm not saying that Christmas music in general needs to stop. But use some moderation people! And how many different versions of Rudolph do you have to hear back to back?!

Screw your winter wonderland.

Hark the herald angels can SHUT IT!

And go jingle your bells somewhere else.

I have to listen to something angry and very non-holiday cheery.

Have a holly jolly BRICK TO YOUR SKULL!!!

End of BTW:

Random crap:

My co-worker “K” does this weird humming thing that I can only describe as "The Grandma Hum". It reminds me of some old (maybe southern) grandmother humming (not really a song at all, just humming) to herself. The sound resonates through the sales office. It's a bizarre sound. It lingers and has this fluctuating tone. Kinda makes me think of a southern Baptist church woman humming. Makes me want to slap the shit out of K every time I hear it.

He's challenging me basically. I know he’s challenging me!

Either that or he's possessed by the malignant soul of a southern Baptist grandma who needs me to exorcise her from K’s body by beating the ever loving shit out of him.

"The power of pain compels thee!"

THWACK!!!

(rinse and repeat… a lot!)

End of Random crap:

Let us begin...

Why did I start this blog?

It’s a therapy thing mostly.

You see throughout this year I had quite a few “interesting” moments. The type of moments that leave you damn close to weeping or going on a murderous rampage. Hell, who am I kidding? My whole life has been full of WTF, with a generous portion of surreal, and dash of lime for seasoning.

I had been reading my friend’s blog, "Your biting sarcasm wounds me, Madam...", for a while. You should check it out. She’s quite feisty. So while I was reading her blog I realized that I wanted to start my own blog. To post all the odd and quirky things I’ve been through, yet use it for therapy. To write about all the things plaguing me without all the “woe is me” crap you’ll find in some over privileged emo kid’s MySpace blog. (By the way I have one of those… a MySpace blog.. full of woe is me crap. It came with an emo kid instructional video on how to blog as if everything in my life was catastrophic. I don’t use it much, because I realized that I’m a bit too old to blog about how my parents don’t understand me or how I’m crushing on a girl who doesn’t know I exist.) so I figured out that I didn’t want to do a blog that was nothing but weepy sad sack prattling. I decided that I wanted to take the epically shitacular scenes in my life and just outright make fun of them. Why? Well because it’s my form of therapy. That and whenever I tell my “friends” about these scenarios they end up laughing. And I’m not talking about chuckling. I mean fall the floor, soil yourself, can’t breathe, most likely going to herniated everything style laughter. But before you get all sorts of critical and say that maybe my friends aren’t such good friends, laughing at how my girlfriend dumped me while we were on vacation together for a week, I’d like to add that I don’t blame them for laughing. Because I’m funny! I’m freaking hilarious! Admit it! Your mom thinks I’m hilarious. (oohhh… 5th grade humor right there. That’s how comedic I am.) “Only in bed.” (Oh snap! I added a 6th grade humor come back for you. Yeah, I’m that damn funny.)

So you’ve most likely noticed the name of this blog, Overlord Complex. I’m betting you’re wondering why I named it that. Well it’s simple, and I’m not about to explain it to you. Because the sooner you realize that I’m your overlord and you are all my minions the better off we’ll all be. Go ahead and begin bathing me in your worship and abhorrence…. Uh.. I mean adoration. Yes, adoration, because everyone loves me. Love me or else I will smite you all! (Eh… maybe I’ll explain the reason for the name later.)

Throughout this wonderful excursion we’ll call my blog you’ll find many grammatical mistakes. Some of them are accidental and some on purpose. You’ll wonder why. And my answer is, “Because I’m so much more intelligent than you, you’ll never understand why!”. Actually it’s because Grammar and I aren’t getting along. I hurt Grammar. I slap Grammar around and make it my dirty bitch. I do things to Grammar that make it feel dirty and used. I do terrible unmentionable things to Grammar. When I walk into the room with 40 oz. of cheep beer in hand, decked out in my wife-beater, Grammar cowers in the corner and wets itself uncontrollably. Because Grammar knows what’s in store for it. If it weren’t for my word processor’s protective services Grammar would most likely be face down in a shallow grave by now.

Actually Grammar is my evil angry bitch of a wife. It busts my balls and wrings me dry every chance it gets. So if you ever see any grammatical mistakes feel free to let me know. I’ll take anything to keep Grammar from kicking me in the ass and telling me about how much of a lazy bastard I am.

So with that all said feel free to send me emails. Questions, comments, or whatever. I welcome them all. Hell, send me hate mail. I love that stuff. It’s like the toffee filling to my chocolate coated kitten heads!

No no.. I kid. I’d never eat toffee filled chocolate coated kitten heads. The toffee and chocolate coating are just too fattening. Mmmm kitten heads. Well anyway, here’s my e-mail address…

Complex.Overlord@gmail.com

Look forward to more from me.