This has been building up for a while. here goes nothing.
sunday night I got asked out of the blue by my team lead: "Do you have a lot of drama going on or something? You always look like you're mad at the world."
My Actual response: "No. No drama. I'm sorry I don't smile a lot. I've been told it's scary."
What I wanted to say: WHAT FUCKING BUSINESS IS IT OF YOURS? I'm sorry I don't partake in the rumor mill/ Work politics, but I'm not getting paid to express my opinion on who's fucking who at work, and i'm not about to let you know what the hell's going on in my head. I don't know why this pissed me off so much, but it did.
Monday Night, I got switched around a lot, and at one point was working the baler, something i don't have a lot of experience on. The production Lead was also keeping tabs on me to make sure i'm not goofing off.
Side note: last week when i was working on the baler, he walked off after a bit, as he's the lead and had other stuff to do obviously. i had finished up what he had told me to bale, and didn't know for sure if we were going to also bale up the two large boxes of cardboard scrap. So, instead of rushing off and having him search the floor for me, Ic took some initive started sweeping around the disgusting area. when he came back, he blew up at me and said "I Don't need anyone to sweep the warehouse." and then put me in time out. (a.k.a. Assembly. Assembly, in a word, sucks. I suck at it. he knows I hate it, and that's why he sent me there for the rest of the shift.) oh, Silly me. Okay then. Think how pissed off he would have been if he had waltzed out there and found me sitting there with my thumb up my ass, not doing anything.
So, with the lesson of taking initive having got me into trouble still fresh in mind, i end up goofing up on the baler. It takes time to get it fixed, and by the time he comes back out there, I'm still tying down the baling wires(which is another task in itself, since if it is too loose, the bale will fall apart when ejected).
He was already in a pissy mood since it snowed like hell that night and there were a lot of calloffs and basically laid into me about how long i was taking and that this isn't that hard of a job how areyounotgettingit in the tone that basically spoke "you're a fucking idiot." and walked off again. He cme back later and gruffly issued a command to grab the other tote from the floor for elements.
There are two things on the floor that contained elements that he could have been referring to: One, being the big blue wheelie totes that basically contains inital scrap waste, and the other being a large cardboard box that scrap elements found later down the line are tossed into.
I ask "Am i going to need to bring the pallet Jack?" Trying to discern which "tote" he is talking about. Remember, the last time I took initive, i got yelled at anyway.
"WHAT, YOU WANNA CARRY IT BY YOURSELF? YES BRING THE PALLET JACK!" and stormed off again. The LEam tead was there, and supposedly said something to him about it and that "I'll get an apology later on before you leave". Yeah, Sure. good thing i didn't hold my breath.
"Fuck and double fuck. these last two nights have sucked. Gosh, i hope tonight is better." Was all i could think when i woke up last night. Bzzzt. wrong.
At work last night, i got pulled aside by the team lead, and voiced her concerns about me wearing the same clothes every day to work, and that people are noticing and making comments about it.
"I mean, i dunno if you take a bath or anything, but i mean, you gotta have other pants and shirts to wear, right? Get some color going on there."
she actually said that. word for fucking word.
What. the. fuck.
Now, let me explain something here.
When I was hired, I was told not to "wear anything that I'm attached to", since they will most definately get covered in resin in the factory.
I have three pairs of older carhartt Jeans I cycle through for work. all are the same light brownish color, as they were bought aorund the same time and have faded with repeated washings. I have a Dickies long sleeve workshirt i wear as a smock over my tshirt(THAT I CHANGE EVERY FUCKING DAY AS WELL AS MY SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR, YOU FUCKTARDS) So only the smock gets resin on it and not the tshirt. The smock is covered in dried resin, and gets washed every week(AS WELL AS MY OTHER CLOTHES, YOU FUCKTARDS) but unfortunately some of that resin is just plain and simply not going to come off.
I don't have a large operating budget here, ESPECIALLY since they have been only running us 4 days a week for the last month, So I don't really like the idea of ruining all my clothes just so i can keep up appearences. I'm not there to catch snatch with what I wear, anyway. I'm there to work. I cannot afford the luxory of fashion at this point. especially on these wages.
And seriously, "I dunno if you take a bath or anything"? WHAT THE FUCK. Water's included in my fucking rent. so YES I take a fucking shower. DAILY. EVERY FUCKING DAY.
I was so pissed when I walked out of there at the end of the shift, I could barely see straight. I didn't even wait aroud in the lot for my car to warm up. I wanted the fuck out of there.
ANd yet, they wonder why they have such a high turnover.
If i had a sure line on another job, I would have walked out of there on lunch. if i didn't need the money, I would have walked and hope I got lucky on a job offer quick. Sadly, Luck does not pay bills.
As soon as I get a spare 300 bucks, I'm getting CompTIA A+ certified. Dosen't Mean I'm certainly going to land a job, but I'm real sick and tired of the skills i do have not getting much more than fucking peanuts. i should have been certified ten fucking years ago.
So, in summary.
I'm a retard, and a skank. Awesome.
Thanks for the performace review.
Maybe tonight I'll find out that I'm also a baby-raper or something.
In case you haven't noticed, I've not been doing much in the way up updating as of late. I have things to write about, but I find myself catching myself from writing it, thinking "Will it be good?" "Will so-and-so take it the wrong way?" "is it funny?" and other questions.
I also have a certain formula I do with writing updates, and I think the very formula is stifling me.
Hell, let's be honest, I'm stifling myself.
Third Shift in a factory is a lonely existence for me. I never realized how much of a social creature I am in my past jobs. Being a literal cog-in-the-machine, I have about 8 hours where I do nothing but think since the hands are on auto-pilot. When I'm not overanalyzing stuff with the girl, preparing myself for conversations and crazy, blown out of proportion situtations with the girl that never materialize outside of my own paranoid head, how much I miss being social with my customers, and how I feel severely underutilized at my job(if you knew my job, my pay, and my experience, you'd scream "What the fuck are you doing there?!?!?!", Too), I think about how I miss writing out the stories in my head, or the things that are on my mind. That takes me on a different avenue, to where I imagine a whacked-out future where I actually make a litle bank being a writer of stories. I have about 4 books(or at least pretty damn decent teleplays) in my head written at the moment just from the last 3 weeks of work. And I don't want it to stop.
I've been opening up my experiences musically, too. Finding inspiration in new stuff, sampling this and that from the girlfriend's collection, and expanding on others I heard a lot on Groove Salad, and Sirius Chill and during my last tenure at the Liquor store. Getting some reading in too, mostly books I have had for a while and couldn't get the time to finish, or picking up the rare new book that I feel like I can splurge on. It feels good to be developing my palate after not doing so in over a year. It's all feeding into driving me a bit more.
Now, you're probably going "What the hell? this sucks! COME ON, fucking dance already, cowboy!" Yeah, you're probably right. Hold the fuck on, already.
You see, I realized that things for me, while they aren't quite ideal yet, they're getting there, slowly. Now, given, when I first started doing updates back in aught-3, I was also in a particulary okay place. I wrote, and I covered things that interested me, but I didn't... write, and I don't feel like I truly started to pour myself out until the bottom dropped out. Granted, I look back on some of the stuff I did post and go "Jesus, what an emo fag" and want to tear it all down, but... I don't. Not becuse I want to leave a permanent Internet Memorial to lost love or think everything I shit out on here is fried fucking gold, but becuase it marks where things were at the time. It's a part of my history, and I can't and wouldn't change it. It does, However, clash with the more recent upbeat goings-on.
So, what I'm leading into is that the site is in a sort of a spiritual dichotomy. It was built on me being dejected and bleak, not having that feeling of hope for what tomorrow brings. It grew under the purpose of me venting my anger and self-hatred out into the world, of finding that kindred, self-destructive part in you that has been there before and remember how/what you felt, or for those who haven't been there, and wanted to watch a flame burn itself out. I wanted to be your mirror, or that horrible statue you just keep gawking at, wondering who in thier right mind would have sculpted that.
Not to piss on my own happiness, but Goddamnit, that's what i'm good at. I used to be awesome at fucking things up for myself. I'm great at generating volumes of worthless hatred for whatever's got me hacked off today. Throw a healthly Seasoning of What-a-fucking-Weirdo, bake at 375 Degrees for an hour, and ta-da! An TAOSD update. And now, I struggle with the very concept, it seems. I have happy, sometimes a bit fucking weird, things to talk about, but nothing there that seems to be what I used to write about. I even toyed with renaming the blog. The concept of Self-Destruction dosen't seem to be in these pages these days. But Mr. Reznor hasn't sued me yet, and I like the title.
And despite what it sounds, i'm not whining about how I feel I have lost that creative edge and need something to make me feel shitty in order to recapture it. Quite the opposite. I feel more creatively inspired than I have in a long time. I have quite the inspiring Muse to draw off of. My problem, of late, has been time, and how to frame what I got within the context of the blog without giving all three of you readers the feeling that I've jumped the shark and have nothing further to offer except puppies that shit sunshine out thier asses.
Then I got all Ving Rhames and said "Fuck y'all. I write what I want." So... if you're still following at this point, here's what I've come to, i think.
I'm going to write, just to write, and keep the noose of self-censure off my neck as much as I can. less Lawful Good, more Chaotic Neutral. As it should have been all along before I got myself caught up in whatever self-restraint I was doing trying to pander to a varied audience for validation. I'm gonna let it take me for a ride, not worry if anyone else hitched on, and see where the hell I end up. The Idea, in theory, will let me stretch my mental legs and get me back on this horse again. Things are going to be jumbled up a bit, and not everything is going to be presented as having a basis in fact with some sort of tragic or happy event that is going on in my life. Things may get obscure, or outright confusing. There may be in-jokes involved that only few or I get. I may ramble on and on about things that don't appear to have any sort of cohesion. Kind of like this whole wall of text.
One of the things I have been reintroduced to(i.e. i knew of,but didn't listen to much of) since I started this whole relationship business is Bjork. and I consider that a very good thing. Oh lord, how much have I missed out. I tend to associate music with who i am dating at the time, and I believe Bjork and Sparks is probably the most closely matched pairings i've ever made.
The Best way to explain it is to just have you look at the cover for Volta. just about any Music Video She has done works too: Very elegant, artistic, and surreal, but trying to make absolute sense out of(as I am often want to do with women it seems, that's a problem on my end) is a fucking nightmare.
Further using the "Sparks as my Bjork" Metaphor, this is probably the best way to describe some of our conversations.(EDIT: was a youtube link, found the .gif instead)
Now, onto what I really wanted to make a short post about.
As I said, I've been getting into the Icelandic wonder of late, and I stumbled across a video from her latest Album. I spent a half hour jumping around my apartment playing air guiter with a broom, which is pretty much the only reason i bought the broom, and quite possibly the only reason why i wanted to live on my own- So i could do such acts without crashing in the floor or pissing off moms or gma with my dreams of playing crazy electro-rock. Serious fucking business, yo.
If you can find the quicktime for this video, I highly recommend watching it. Youtube compression dosen't do justice to the crazy. Or to the hotness of Miss Guomundsdottir.
This is the update where I offically basically tell you all what is going down.
I'm moving. After 15 years of trying to find my place here in Southern Illinois, I'm done.
My last day at my current place of employment is nov. 24th. after that, I'm packing up and moving onto... something.
So, as tradition would have it, I must have a going away party. thankfully, I'm going to hold it during thanksfornothinggiving weekend, in the hopes that everyone who is or can be home, will be.
so, here's the dox.
Livingdead's going away/Roast/Birthday/Help me drink the rest of my beer because I can't take it with me party!
When: Saturday, Nov 24
Time: 7:00 p.m. CST. earlier if you help drink all my beer.
Where: Christopher IL. If you decide to help with the beer, it starts earlier at my place. Otherwise, I(we, hopefully) will be at 1 of 4 bars located in town. Your best bet is the S&S, followed by T Street, followed by KC hall, and if i get talked into it, PD's place. can anyone say PUB CRAWL WOOT WOOT?
Who is invited: If you read this, you're probably invited. Like I can kick you out of a public place, but you get the jist of it.
Anwyay, I would love it if you could plan a stop-by or a hang out or something. I would mean a lot to me. Yes, Even you.
If you need additional info, please drop me an email. I'll try to explain as much as I can.
At work, eating dinner as quick as I can, as I have explained before.
A older couple comes in, stockboy asks how thier day is going. the male grunts and waddles off to parts unknown. The female decides to takes this oppourtunity to give a Discovery Health Channel Special on her colonoscopy she had earlier that day.
Suddenly, I'm no longer hungry, and toss supper into the trash, half-finished.
I'm not a squeamish sort usually, but you can file "Talking about cameras in my ass" under "Shit I don't want to hear when I'm eating".
A quick one. I'm on dayshift this week, and it's fucking with my thought processes.
Guy comes in last week while I'm eating. Buys some liquor, and decides to educate me on my dinner.
Now, I'm one of those people who dosen't like to talk much when I'm eating. I want to eat, enjoy it, and get it over with without too many people staring at me and going "Oh my god! that guy is disgusting! no wonder he's a fucking fatass!" When in an envrioment where there's almost no privacy(i.e. work), I tend to get defensive with my food. one guy nearly got shanked with a pen once, And I tend to literally growl like a dog when someone starts hovering near my food at work. Some would probably see that as being too aggressive, but I look at it this way: If you're stupid enough to stick your fingers in a fat kid's food when they're eating, then you deserve to lose a finger because he mistakens it for a floating hot dog.
Anyway, back to the story. I just want to get back to sucking on the chicken bones like a ghoul, but the retarded offspring of Richard Simmons and Humpty Dumpty is standing there I guess trying to be funny and smart.
"Hey, did you know that KFC puts hormones in thier food that causes impotency in men? Hope you didn't want any kids!" He says matter-of-factly with a "Heh heh, fatass" look on his face.
Smirk. "Thanks for the heads up." Then a cold expression washes over my face. "Oh, by the way, that pint of Calvert you buy daily? Liv-ver fail-ure. Have a good one." Nod.
And I did exactly what I wanted to do - Turned back to licking the marrow of the poor chicken who was murdered for my fast-food feast. Yum.
Oh yeah, did anyone read the Letters to the Editor in the southern today? go read it the Last letter. I wish I was that... talented.
First and foremost, I am a 70 now. fear me for soon I shall deal out butthurt aplenty for the lulz with my imaginary bad ass self.
Work has continued to be work. sometimes it's okay, most of the time it's ruined by the grating sound of some of our most "prescious" customers walking in. Sorry. I meant "retards who should consider sterilization".
You know how every so often people kick around ideas that there should be a license for parenting? well, I have a similar idea with Being allowed to drink.
"But Livingdead", you begin to whine, "You do sort of kinda get a license to dirnk when you turn 21! isn't that enough?" BZZZZT. WRONG. GO BACK THREE SPACES AND LOSE YOUR TURN.
You see, I believe it should be less an age restraint and more of a merit-based thing that allows you to drink. More Specifically, you have to line up before a panel of judges who construct a trial to determine wheter or not one would be granted a license to drink. This would, in theory, let in generally fair minded people who would then be invited afterwards to enjoy thier first legal beer at the country club golf course with the judge to rock it in with style. Those who are generally socially retarded to begin with(i.e., buy beer instead of food or paying rent, act like a total dumbass without being intoxicated, or have multiple felonies) would be given a swift kick in the sack and sent along the way to go beat thier baby's momma or go do some low-grade meth or whatever. Also, hopefully I would get a sweet well-paying job on said panel and ruin all kinds of people's fun because sometimes, being a wet blanket for the masses is fun, dickheaded thing to do.
It's just a thought, But I got a couple samples of trial questions hashed out.
SQ1. When drinking, which is NOT okay to do?
a) Laugh heartily at a joke
b) Play a rousing game of asshole
c) Start a riot
d) Get trashed, beat your wife, get the neighbors to call the police on the you, then try to cash a two-party paycheck at a liquor store to bail out your wife, who, by the looks of it, Railed the shit out of you instead, and then act all pissy when they don't cash said two-party payroll check.
SQ2. What, in your opinion, constitutes "Too Much to drink"?
a) Getting a bit too light-headed from all the swill you call "beer".
b) "Pulling the trigger"(i.e. vomiting) in a bar after taking your ninth shot of Jager.
c) Choking up a Liquid Cocaine shot all over the barcounter, then meekly asking for a bartowel in front of a dozen seasoned drinkers who now think you are a total pansy.
d) Defecating and urinating in your sleep all over your very expensive sheets you bought because you wanted to impress that lady you see at the bar every week if you got the chance to take her home, but you notice the entire left-half of her teeth are rotted away, so you drink yourself into a complete stupor to forget the pain of being utterly alone.
SQ3. Bobby, Sam and Gina have 10 dollars each. they go to the supermarket to purchase alcohol for a party they are having. which is the proper way to buy alcoholic supplies for everyone?
a) Pool resources together and buy a 3 1.75's of cheap liquor. everybody gets smashed, good times are had. except for that one asshole who complains about how his colon is "intolerant to hard liquor", whom you will remember never to invite over again.
b) Buy a shit ton of cheap swill beer which everyone will complain about, but drink anyway.
c) Ask Gina to "Perform a favor" to get free booze to save money, even though she is clearly on the rag, has questionable mouth sores, and is underage for sexual relations.
d) Buy supplies for yourself, go back to the party and tell them to buy thier own goddamn alcohol.
SQ4. Is it okay to be a discourteous to the person serving you alcohol?
a). No. there is no reason to be uncourteous to someone who is working in customer service, as "the golden rule" is in play.
b) Yes. They're probably a tool anyway, and is going to complain on the internet about how much of a douche I'm being to them, so it all evens out.
c) No, Because the person serving me alcohol is my Current lord and master, and such divine creatures do not take kindly to any shennagians us mere mortals may attempt to pull. they are the Gatekeepers, and the Keyholders to the promised land.
d) FUCK THAT ASSHOLE! GIVE ME MY GODDAMNED BEER! IT'S MY CONSTIPATIONAL RIGHT TO DRINK!
Now, I do my best to be a socially responsible drinker(BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), but as it were, I would most likely fail my own rigid standards of the drinking exam. Naturally, i would do the responsible thing: say 'Fuck the System' for keeping a black man like me down, and drink illegally. that'll learn 'em.
I wanted to post this like, two weeks ago, but I seem to be having all kinds of trouble keeping up on a regular basis. I hate not staying regular this this stuff because i end up forgetting anything cool that has happened in the past week. The ast thing I want you to do is think that I am ignoring you. I'm really not trying to, I'm just having problems with time.
So, the reunion came and went. Nothing special to talk about. I got trashed, and ended up getting talked into going out to cotton's, which lasted for about ten minutes. I had a bottle of water while I was out there, and called in a chip for someone to come get me as I was uncomfortably Drunk(i.e. I was about to eject all that prescious beer I drank). Was good to see people I haven't seen in a long time, and i wish i would have had the foresight to get some phone numbers off of people so I could call them up at drunk o' clock in the morning.
Okay, I'm lying. There is something that did happen at the reunion that I was glad that happened.
I settled the past with a couple.
It had been something that has been more or less unsaid for about the last six months to a year, but we went ahead and made it offical. I always imagined it being much more cataclysmic as that seems to be my style with dealing with exes, but it really wasn't. there was catching up with each other families, how shitty our old places of work are becoming, lamenting on how Brandocrap dosen't work further south, how much i miss playing spades and getting fucked over by said Brandocrap, all intersparced with much needed doses of getting shit off my chest, burying the axe and starting the process of letting it rust.
cybrpunk is doing some zombie fiction of his own. I'm waiting for day 3. maybe if all three of my faithful go over there, he'll keep with it. come on readers, I feed on this zombie stories and if Neil had any other way than paypal, I would totally have long since made my donation to up my allowed reads per week. Anyway, boring shit for the most of you, I'm sure.
Once again had a run-in with another guy who was helping the poor people who are stuck in the 3rd world country of Japan. This time, I didn't get asked if I knew where Japan was, though. Still had the same flier with LARGE INSPIRATIONAL WORDS on it, though. No chintzy bracelets this time, though.
Since I'm running familar ground, I'm going to go ahead and call North a flat-out liar(P.S. I like you, seriously), as No ID girl came in yet again and failed to produce an ID. Except now she's almost 23 and can't believe that I'm still carding her. boo fucking hoo. If she would have had her ID this would all be done and over with by now, but carrying an ID in her white trash daisy dukes along with her cash is appearantly too fucking complicated of a concept for her. Or, MAYBE she's a Sleeper Cell terrorist that is looking to bomb the Rend Lake Dam now that the lake has become a Wonder of Illinois, complete with David Phelps and Ken Gray singing God Bless America. Which I don't understand at all. I mean, I get why Gray was there, and politicians in general, but WTF with the patriotic hymn? I mean, God and Jesus didn't create it, it's man-made. poorly, I might add. but hey, it's drinkable and it gives me a place to go when I'm pissed off and want to be alone. I'll save my "I'm not a Lake Engineer but this is FUBAR'd" critique for another blog.
ANYWAY, back to NO ID girl, If I knew her name(which I don't because, well, you should be able to figure that out), I'd totally nominate her for the female catagory of the 1st annual " Livingdead's Customers Who Deserve Centipedes in thier Vagina and/or Dickhole" award. I already have a very good front runner for the Female category though with another demonic bitch of a customer. Maybe she's a shemale and I need to expand my categories. Anyone willing to take one for the team and find out? I won't tell if you won't.
Also, remember the 90's flowchat? I found out where that came from. Go check it out if you're into geek humor and stick figures. I'll stick it into Linkage soon enough. as soon as I find time. Also, photo album is seriously needing to be added(which I know by now is turning into a long running joke, but like Zapp Brannigan, I do plan to finish someday).
As Commentors know, I had to turn on the "approval required" option for commenting a while back to combat blog spam. I'm cautiously glad to report that i haven't been spammed at all in the last week and a half. I would love nothing more than to let down the gaurd and allow anything to go through without approval, but before I do... I want to hear how anyone else who has had this problem has been faring. I know most people on bloghorn have thiers taken care of almost automagically, but if you run a blog and could spare some time to drop a comment or an email, let me know.
boy, did I go on a rambling yarn. covered a lot of ground. Time for sleepzors. Or warcraftzors. or further hacking apart my chocolatezors. Or maybe doing something useful with all the spare computer parts I got laying around. Zors.
chillin with the D-O-double-G and Gee Oh Dee,
drinking V.S.O.P.
on the LBC
Boyz II Men
ABC
BBD
the East coast family!
plagurizing two different genres of early 90's music will not get me into The Source anytime soon.
I've been off work for an hour and a half and i'm well on my way to getting trashed. I'm working crazy hours this week and bringing in mad duckets, Yo. WTF ever happened to that arcade place? anyway, so while the manager is away, i'm on dayshift. this should be easy, right? well. sort of. first off, there's a giant burning ball in the sky that instantly gets me grumbling on my way to work. today wasn't so bad, as it was overcast. i was still grumbling, as i had closed the night before and didn't get out till 1am. this isn't always a problem, but I had to be there to open at 7:45, which turns getting out late into a litnany of 'fucks' from yours truly.
today I had probbaly four main things to accomplish without burning the store down accidentally or otherwise. things that once you sit down and get to it(or if you've done it a jajillion times before), should only take you about an hour. it took me seven. everytime i would get started and timidly step into the exciting world of entering product into inventory into our venerable database, I would get a customer. one would lead to two, and two into four, and pretty soon you have fucking tribbles and gremlins all over the goddamn place. every time I would finish one P.O, i'd get another delivery, and each company doesn't exactly have carbon-copy invoices. forms. sheets that stuff is on. whatever.
so back to hunt and pecking in what we got from whomever, doing everything i can to keep from entering in 5000 cases of grenadine @ 2999.99 cost. Then the customers come back in, and once again, I have fucking tribbles and gremlins.
so yeah. I will say that i needed the break from my regulars. last night i had another run in with No id girl and i wanted to chokefuck her with a broken everclear bottle because i'm a really horrible person and wish such things on people sometimes.
I would fully support a law that would allow anyone in retail the ability to shoot someone in the crotch once a day with a taser with no reprucussions. people would be a hell of a lot nicer if there was the chance that the person behind the counter hadn't used thier daily freebie. but since i live in the land of pussies and we just passed a law that bans indoor smoking in public places(except casinos, of course. they make money for the state and a majority of patrons there smoke, so they're cool. which is fucking horseshit), i don't see that ever becoming a reality. don't bother commenting, emailing, or flaming me about my stance on the smoking issue. you're not going to chance my mind, and I'll just think you're an even bigger pussy. you win. I get it. I can't actively kill you anymore. I'll get over it or I'll find another way.
I like Edgy Eft, but I am ready to take a ride on the Fiesty Fawn. anyone got an opinon on it yet?
Anyway, So most of you got to meet Sparky at Bradley's Wedding(which was awesome, by the way), and i apologize for not getting face time with everyone and doing formal introductions. she's Shy and I have a track record about as good as my updating routine of late about doing the introduction thing. I don't think she's going anywhere, so you'll get your chance, I am sure.
Fuck. I just ruined a brand new tie in the wash. god damn it.
goddamn this hacker pschorr is fucking awesome.
i really want to write more, but now that i am rather soundly sloshed, i'm going to go get on WoW and spam "WTB 2 man suicide Molten Core run" on the channels. or get on as my hot blood elf and promise virtual sex for gold. wait. that's second life. or something like that. Maybe i'll kill more people In GTA liberty city stories. I don't care. I'm drunk enough to where i'm ready to fright someone, rip thier nuts off, eat them raw, then shit them down said person's throat. All you motherfuckers are gonna pay. You are the ones who are the ball-lickers. I told u I was hardcore.
And there you have it. Yet another xoxxed.com, The art of Self-Destruction, Livingdead's Blog, what the fuck ever you call it, update. Made in Fucking Southern Illinois. Fucking made in Southern Illinois. Made in Southern Fucking Illinois. Made in Southern Illinois fucking.
So, Me and Sparky go out for Lunch the other day, then head out ot the beach. it was good times. on the way back so I can go to work, I see I have something crawling up my forearm.
"Holy shit!"
"What?"
"a ladybug! a red one!"
"oh?"
"yeah, I haven't seen a red one in like, five years!"
I then go full into biology geek mode on and explain how the Asian variant that was brought in for pest control and had displaced the native species. she nods and tells her own story of dealing with ladybugs in the winkter back up north. She's awesome like that.
Heh. displacer beast. talking about ladybugs made me think about that for some reason.
then I go to work. Which pretty much sucked. Some jackass rang the bell three times, I told him to hold on twice as I was with other customers who where there before him. Then when i finally get to him, all he want's is a fucking pack of Dorals. THEN, the fucker paid in change. Yeah, I'm so Sorry that i didn't get to you Sooner, Rich Uncle Pennybags. now I'm in rant mode.
we have certain customers who come in asking for North. North is friendly and talkative, I am not. He's better known in the area because he went to school with a lot of the younger customers. unfortunately, a lot of the people who come in who ask for him are complete douchebags about it. this in turn, makes me resent North sometimes. but remind myself that North's a good guy. It's the customers that he knows that are pricks.
Example conversation:
drive thru bell rings.
"how can i help you?"
"I GOT SIX DOLLARS!"
sigh. take a breath, and answer. don't be a smartass.
"and what do you want with that?"
"I WANT YOU TO COME HERE!"
Deep breath. Fists are balling up. Urge to kill rising.
I try to keep my poker face, but my voice betrays me as I open the window.
"....Yes?"
"is North working tonight?"
"I wish he was, because he would be taking your order and you wouldn't be asking me stupid questions and barking orders at me like I'm your goddamned lapdog, you bald-headed prick."
ooops. Let me retry that.
sigh. "no, he's not. if he was, I wouldn't be here."
then there's the "No id" girl. I've wrote about her before, but she's still amusing to me when she tries to pull bullshit.
"I don't have my ID, But North Knows me, So you have to sell to me."
"I have to do what?"
"You have to sell to me. Or else I'll tell North you didn't and you'll be in trouble. I'm in good with him."
"I don't have to do shit if you don't have an ID."
"what?"
"And for the record, I'm North's Superior. He has to Listen to Me."
"This is such bullshit!. I'm 22!"
"It's not my Fault you sucked off the wrong person on the Totem Pole."
"what did you say? I didn't suck nobody off!"
"It's called a Metaphor."
"i'm not a whore!"
"oh my fucking god... I said Metaphor. M-E-T-A-P-H-O-R."
And a final one for the faithful.
Guy comes in, tries to buy. No id.
Sends girlfriend in. has ID. She's pissy because she has get her ass out of the car to buy it. Wah.
"You do know he's almost 30, right?"
"no, I don't know. You know why?"
"why?"
"becuase he didn't have his ID."
"Well I can assure you he's almost fucking 30. I know becuase I'm his girlfriend."
"well I can assure you that Brad Pitt is gay because we have sex regularly. Also, me and Jesus Skate together a lot at the rink. See how that works?"
It's that time of year, spring is here, weddings are just around the corner, Love is in the air and blah blah blah all that hanky-panky bullshit. Also, I'm counting how many times I'm going to hear "man it sure is NICE outside today!"
I understand the need to make small talk, but come the fuck on.
Yes, thank you for pointing out the fact that I suck at life and have to serve you while you get to go out and enjoy the day with your baby's momma or what the fuck ever. I can't wait for my day off so i can come to your business and point out that I get the day off and YOU don't. And if that don't work, I'm going to piss in all of your plants. if there are no plants, I will simply piss on your counter/desk/in a corner.
Also, if you happen to suffer from this, I wouldn't tell people that you hear "voices" that tell you to play certain instant lottery tickets. I won't think you are gifted with a special power. I will think you are dangerously batshit crazy.
STOP RINGING THE FUCKING BELL. WE KNOW YOU ARE THERE. WE ARE BUSY AND TOLD YOU TO HOLD ON. OH, YOU'RE REAL FUCKING FUNNY. I HOPE YOU GET CENTIPEDES IN YOUR DICKHOLE.
I got a chance to go on a date - with a woman who was prolly only about 10 years younger than Moms. I declined. I should probably be thankful that anyone even looked at me in that fashion, but it honestly didn't help my morale much.
The Promise Keepers are having some sort of convention around here. I only know this because I saw the ad on TV. It only caught my attention because it also used Nirvana's "Come as you are" as a slogan. Good luck with that.
Got something in the mail today: My 10-Year Reunion notice. Awesome. I only really want to go to find out if this one girl in my class got really hot and turned into a porn star. otherwise, it just serves as a marker as to where I should have been and where I am now. I was really hoping I would be going to this shindig and not be almost exactly where i was when i was 18. I should have been married by now. I should have graduated school by now. I should have had a decent job by now instead of being a wage slave. I should have been more than what I am now. Coulda. Woulda. Shoulda. Nothing I can do about it now except buck the fuck up.
Anyone know any local escort services? Preferably, ones that I don't have to pay in meth? wedding season's here, the reunion, and all that rot. Maybe I'm kidding, Maybe I'm not.
Work is work.
I nearly renounced my Atheism on account of a customer who just wouldn't leave.
I really have to try to like people sometimes.
Love life sucks, still and seemingly forever.
My Walls have been rebuilt.
Spent 5000 fake dollars gambling in my fake life.
I lost 20 bucks of my very real money.
That was a bad idea.
I wanted to do an April Fool's Update.
I didn't have time.
Next Year, flag semaphore.
Maybe.
Brandocrap would shove Jesus for A chance with Kari Byron.
I would murder all of you if I had the same chance.
Or even for a passable look-a-like.
I'm Morally Questionable.
I don't mind that so much anymore.
My Throskie is only a 63 :( and wears outdated gear. Year Zero is absoludicriously fucking awesome.
You knew I would say that.
Alanis Morissete does My Humps.
you've probably Seen it.
Tori Amos does Raining Blood.
You should hear the Classic first.
I'm a future 419 Scam victim.
I could go on and on.
Getting the fuck outta here on a one day trip.
All work and no play something something something.
Here, I Haven't done one of these in nearly forever. Enjoy.
Read/Watch/Listen/Play:
Promise of the Witch-King; R.A. Salvatore. 300; Gerard Butler, Rodrigo Santoro, Vincent Regan. Collected; Massive Attack. God of War 2; Sony Computer Entertainment of America.
The topic of the day is "why Livingdead will never win the lottery".
When you're slinging lottery tickets, You often hear two phrases:
1. If I win, I'm giving you a tip!
2. Man, what would you do with X million dollars?"
The first one I usually brush off with an "Aww gee, thanks!" Grin and wish them luck and hope they have a good day and hope that every single person that said that to me will hit the jackpot and come through with such promises of free money.
One guy I had come in today bought tickets for the Mega Millions(Powerball Jr.) and said "If I win, I'll be back to give you a 1 percent tip! That's 34 Million to you, pal!"
As he left excitedly, I murmured to my coworker "I really do hope he hits the jackpot."
"Why?"
"Because his math sucks worse than mine. 34 million is 10 percent, not one. and I'm gonna hold his ass to that."
Number 2 is the one I hear far more than anything else when the Jackpot gets high enough to tantalize even me into buying a ticket. I realize it's small chatter to be made as one is buying into a chance to be rich, but when you hear it all day long, you get tired of saying the same thing: " Oh, I've no idea what I'd do with all that money."
Fuck that. I know EXACTLY what I'd do. After hearing it for the ten thousandth time, I started giving "creative" answers, as I'm sure they're tired of hearing the same "I dunno" over and over again.
"Spend 5 million of it and throw the rest into high-yield stock options, and burn them for warmth since Ameren sucks more than a hooker in a black hole."
"Build a couple of houses for me and the Family and make them completely Solar-powered, since Illinois is a net metering state and Ameren sucks more than a hooker in a black hole."
"Rent a Huge Glacier and Re-enact Ice Climber or The Thing."
"Buy 340 million Dollars of Porn."
"Pick up a Coke Habit. Or whatever Drug is 'In', you Know?"
"Travel through Time."
"Buy my Neighbor's House(the Jackass one, not the good ones, I'm gonna give them a spruce tree, or a weathervane) and make it my dog's House."
"Drive an ice cream truck covered in human skulls."(I've been dying to use this quote for a long time)
"Call up all of my exes, rub it in thier face about how rich I am and how they're not but now I'm utterly lonely because i'll never know if a woman truely loves me or my money because that shit happens all the time you know HEY WAIT MISTER YOU FORGOT YOUR BEER AND I DIDN'T GET TO THE PART WHERE I CLAIM A MORAL VICTORY!!"
So there you have it. Reasons why I'll never come into a huge amount of money because I'd be a complete and total dick.
A few quick things before I go off and do all those awesome things I do on my days off.
1. A liquor store isn't going to sell toothpaste.
2. A liquor Store isn't most likely going to sell Milk, either.
3. I don't care if you play basketball for the University of Illinois Salukis(who to the what now?) and you're on TV all the time, I'm still going to card you. I don't watch Basketball because I think it sucks, and you're a double moron for not getting your colleges straight.
4. Nope, no diapers, either.
5. a fifth of Ten High on food stamps? Are you fucking serious?
6. If you sell off your individual cigarettes to other kids at college(i assume), Try to get american Currency. I can't sell you smokes if all you have is A canadian Toonie and a couple of jamacian Dollar Coins. Also, 1 USD = 67.5 JMD. You got ripped off, Dumbass. L2notsuck.
finally, a short story.
Girl comes in, looking for 40's of Bud. Turns to me, and says "you remember me, don't you?"
"Nope. haven't the faintest idea who you are."
"so you're going to card me, Aren't you?"
"Yeap."(which brings me to 7. If you ask "Are you going to card me?" Then yes, I'm going to card you. If there were such a thing, I'd double-card you for asking such a stupid question. anyway, back to the story)
"I Swear to god I'm 22! So-and-So knows who I am!"
"Sorry. Can't sell to you without an ID."
"Will You Take a Ticket? I lost My Driver's license."
"Nope." (8. Carry two forms of Goverment-Issued photo ID if you tend to break the Speed limit or, like my dumb ass did once long ago, Lose your license for a couple of months because you racked up a shitload of tickets.)
Needless to say, she starts walking out of the store, muttering loudly.
"I wish So-and-So was working. This is bullshit!"
"And I wish I had a pony that shot lasers out of it's eyes."
The other night an Asian fellow with a briefcase comes in, and asks how I am doing.
"Eh, not bad tonight. How about yourself?"
He lands me a glossy flier and starts speaking in heavily accented english about this program that shows lots of smiling people, and has words like "INTERNATIONAL" and "FAMILY" and "PROGRAM" and "OTHER LARGE WORDS". I didn't really look too well, as i had to strain to hear him as he spoke fast and I wanted to make sure I wasn't agreeing to selling off the store for a thousand bucks or something like that. I think he's talking about how they bring people overseas to this wonderful country to live long and prosper.
Then he asks "where were you born?"
"Right here, actually. Born and raised." I don't see a reason to explain my growing up took place a town over, as all the towns in SoIL are basically the same to anyone not from SoIL.
"Do you know where Japan is? Have you heard of it?"
I was playing Pac-Man before I could count properly. I Spent Grade school and a good portion of high school tethered to my NES and SNES. Of course I know where the fuck Japan is. But this guy obviously wants to speak to a Big Dumb Guy, so I play along.
"I got a general idea of where it's at. Never been there though."
At this point I take notice of a lanyard hanging from his neck with an ID badge stating he's from the Unification Church. Now I know where this is heading. He wants money.
Sure enough, as if on que, he opens his briefcase, showing off an assortment of "natural stone" bracelets and starts talking about how he's selling these to bring more people overseas to America. and at the low low price of 2 dollars, I can make my contribution and get a nice shiny trinket to remind myself of how I helped people move from Japan to America. Now this may be just me, but when I think of Japan, I don't think "Poor Backwater third-World". Somehow, I suspect Treachery.
"no, sorry. I don't have any money."
"Surely you can afford 2 dollars, sir."
I pull out my wallet, and let the moths fly in his face.
"No, I sure can't."
I didn't quite have the heart to tell him that me and all things Religion went through a messy divorce as he left.
Kabuto is a mammoth creature in size and strength with a hominid build. Many spikes addorn the creature's body, while its maw is fierce and imposing. He is the pinnacle of Sea Reaper magical ingenuity that went horribly, horribly wrong. Kabuto went rogue when his Sea Reaper masters angered him. Alone and with no one else of his kind there was only one thing Kabuto could possibly imagine of doing: eating his sacrifices and killing thousands with his bare hands.
I wanted to talk about how I am back to slinging liquor again(though I wish it was under better circumstances, but these things can't be helped), and how that makes me feels useful and productive once more. I wanted to talk about how far out of known territory I have been, how I've been looking over my shoulder for any percived enemies for a long time, and how much I've been in need of cool, comforting familiarity. I'm getting closer to that. I'm on my feet and stepping in the right direction instead of crawling away to a corner, licking perpetually bleeding wounds with a torn-out tongue over broken teeth. I wanted to thank those who have shown even a mote of belief in me, even when things looked like they'd never change and I would never get off of my knees. But other events that have transpired that took me on a different train of thought.
I told slowbek yesterday in a conversation about something else entirely that "You know I have a thing for suffering, right?" That statement made me take a good long thinking session about the particular situtations I have found myself in these times I have put myself through since my fall from grace, as it were. In my younger years, I also endured other losses and subsquently put myself through the wringer for a particularly long time. the difference being that afterward, some particular event, it didn't matter what size in the scope of things the particular event would be, would reignite that fire in me and make me want to live again. In another conversation this past weekend, someone who i wasn't aware was a regular reader of this atrosity I call a website labeled me a "pessimistic optimist". all irony aside, he stated that "things haven't gone your way for a while, but you still hope that someday it will come back around your way, but you also realize that it isn't going to happen overnight. Under it all, you write about eventual hope for the currently hopeless. And you use a lot of profanity while doing so."
So, this conversation was rolling through my head all weekend, and last night when I went to bed what I said to slowbek was mixed in there as well. It made me think about how I've been going through the motions for quite some time now. The "blazing fire" in me had been extinguished. It smouldered for a while, hungry for oxygen or tinder, but was steadily going cold. It was appearantly obvious to everyone but me, considering how many times my friends tried to say something and I would steadfastly rebuff them, even to the point of questioning thier True intentions, thinking they may be the very same enemies that I am trying to keep watch for. were they saddened too by my stumble? Or did they turn on me in the course of things? Did they blithely chuckle and said that I got what was coming to me and maybe now I would learn my place?
What friends would hope that in my suffering, that I would kowtow? None. None that have offered what support they could(and what I would take) all this time. None that saw that the fire was out. None that loved and remembered the old Livingdead and wept at the thought of a docile version of thier friend. A cinder begins to smoulder.
So all of this was running through my head today when I woke up. Then I saw my W-2's on the table. Then I found my paystubs from last year. Something's not adding up. Tinder chars. Oxygen rushes in.
They think I'm stupid or meek enough to let it pass without incident.
And just like that, A blaze roars back to life.
I know I have rambled on a lot of stuff that dosen't make a lot of sense right now, so let me just finish up for now.
You have awakened Kabuto, The Lumbering Mountain of Pain. For that, My friends Will thank you for igniting the fire. My enemies will curse your foolishness for ever allowing this to happen.
Sometimes, I do love work. Rarely, but I do. It usually comes after I get really bored and my curosity begins to get the best of me.
Bored at work, I took a browse through some of the new porn that one of the stores got in. I pick up a copy of "Bathroom Games" and, giggling like a 10 year old, proceed to read some of the blurbs on the back cover. Standard fare... things like "the Hottest wetplay you'll ever see" and "Only we can give you these kinds of golden showers!"
Then, something in the fine print caught my eye.
NOTICE: A panel of independant medical experts specializing in all phases of human sexuality has set forth guidlines for the producer taking into consideration the findings in Miller v. California, 413 US 15, and Pope v. Illinois, 491 US 497. Based upon the guidlines formulated by this panel, a qualified psychologist has reviewed the product and determined that when viewed in it's entirety the DVD motion picture presents serious scientific value to the average user.
Serious scientific value. O RLY?
I swear to god I am not making that up.
Now, Get me right here. I'm not about to bash porn. I think a little porn(the legal stuff) can be a healthy thing for singles and couples. But scientific? hmmm....color me a skeptic. I'm having a little trouble seeing the findings of "Fresh Faces #2 of 5" in Scientific American. I don't remember the last time a bunch of science majors were sitting around bedating theories found in "Family Affairs". And "Furry Little Asians" isn't likely to be played in a high school health class anytime soon, no matter how much "value" such a title might hold.
Admittedly, I do like the idea of a nobel prize doing to the stirring documentry, "Britney Skye And her Big Titted Friends". I may be biased, though, as I steadfastly believe that world peace, nay, dare i say, peace across endless Galaxies, would follow if only Tiffany Towers would just touch my wing-wang. Repeatedly.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do some "research" on the internet. Mostly concerning Dolly from Big Naturals and that really fucking hot chick(Lori?) from Cum Fiesta. Muwhahahahaha It's not perverted, it's SCIENCE!
I just got home from running around after work. I'm tired, pissy, and in one of "those" moods.
Basically, I was about to go all "Z gangsta" on your asses. Thankfully, you have been saved, as we're going to play a game. or rather, an experiment, if you will.
I am going to drink. Heavy. I mean "the gods will remember this one" drinking.
We're going to see how many it actually takes before i do something stupid: i.e. Make an update or drunken call about how i'm going to kill myself, Hump a statue, bite a dog, that kind of thing. Simple, yet effective.
And since i know most of you aren't even on right now, i'm going to let you make the call... you see my email addy over in that corner? If you use MSN messenger, add me to your list, and send me a message. it'll come to my phone, and it might just spark an interesting conversation, or you can order me to drink for tonight only. This offer ends at 3 am.
Why am I doing this?
becuase Paris Hilton has produced a record, They're playing her single on the radio, and some of you morons are requesting it, thereby forcing me to listen to it during work.
At this point in the week, I have run out of babies to kick, and must now punish myself-with your help.
Who out of this list Has been shot Nine times, stabbed, hung or strangled, and lived to tell about it? Remember, they have to qualify for all three.
1. Missouri State Trooper Brandon Brashear
2. 50 Cent
3. Monica Seles
4. Gregori Rasputin
5. My new boss
6. John "Babbacombe' Lee
Give up? All have suffered at least one, but only number 5 has done all three. Yes, he actually told one of the employees he has been shot nine times. WTF?
And you know what? I totally believe him. It sounds absurd, I know, but when you look at my curriculum vitae, you begin to see just how weak his Kung Fu really is. Take a look at some of my more minor accomplishments(the big ones I can't really talk about, you know, National Security and whatnot):
Recieved an F minus in Algebra 2, one of the few students EVER at C.C.H.S. to do so.
Beat Metroid 40 times in one Night. Yes I used the JUSTIN BAILEY code but regardless....
Read Microsoft Windows' EULA down to the last word.
Got laid in a parking lot of a hotel by a hot chick. in Canada.
Got laughed at by James Hetfield at the '97 Metallica show @ the Keil for falling into the row below me after rocking out a little too hard.
Discovered a lesbian relationship between Samus Aran and Lara Croft. Took pictures. Got sued.
ALMOST killed the last living unicorn, thereby sending the world into a never-ending Age of Darkness. If it hadn't been for fucking Tom Cruise....
Killed a Terrasque by rolling natural 20's for an hour straight, then casting wish. My AD&D homies know what i'm talking about. 2E REPREZENT BITCHES!
Time-traveled in a phone booth.
Shot Andy Warhol.
Drank 70 beers at Herrinfest and lost my phone in a port-o-potty.
Taught Kim Jong-il how to make a hamburger, but then he went off and told his friends that HE invented it. Asshole. Last time I ever invite him over for "Movie night".
Learned to tie my shoes....at 14.
Fought the Predator and won by sissorkicking.
Fought Mike Tyson and lost, disqualified by sissorkicking. Damned rules and regulations.
Fought Voltron And lost. I never had a chance.
Beat Vin Diesel, Chuck Norris, and Bill Brasky in a game of Trival Pursuit.
Honorary Member of: PALS4LIFE, SIU Alumni Association, the Foot Clan, John A. Logan Biology Club, Naked Death, Better Business Bureau, X-men, The Recording Industry Assocation of America, Hellfire Club, and The local Rotary and Lion's clubs.
HEAD: APPLY DIRECTLY TO WALL.
HEAD: APPLY DIRECTLY TO WALL.
HEAD: APPLY DIRECTLY TO WALL.
I'm supposed to Love fridays, I end up usually hating them the most. And now i'm going to be getting up even earlier next week. Class, Did I ever give you the impression that I was a morning person? Also, a whole bunch of other things that i'm not going to bore you with for now, becuase all i want to do is get the fuck out of here, go pick up my check(this is the third fucking week in a row i have to make a special trip to another store to pick up payroll and then back to this store so everyone else can get paid. Why? Because the other store is easier for the person who delivers my checks to drop them off at. Did I mention my gas bill last month? Thanks a lot, jackasses. yeah, all of you.
I'm thinking either i'm going on another blackout drinking binge tonight, or I'm going to be Spending a lot of time in Warsong Gulch swinging [Corpsemaker] into a lot of alliance faces this weekend.
Somebody has to pay for my frustration(social and sexual, as it were), and what better way than to take it out on some unsuspecting night elves?
As most of you know, I have started a new job within the company. I'm still making up my mind as to whether or not this was what we would call "A good move". A lot of the times I feel less a manager and more of a redcoat continually putting down mini-rebellions and explaining to George why the hell everything's going wrong. Like I needed to be the one with this kind of responsibility. Oh, and the drive sucks. You don't want to know what the gas bill was for last month.
The scenery is nice, though. However, I have a gripe about that too. Why? Simple. let's go into pretend-land.
Imagine it's 110 degrees outside. You've been in the heat all day, and some stranger hands you an ice cream cone. It looks absolutely delicious. Big, cold, heavy, scoops of your favorite flavor, sprinkles, the works. After being in the heat all day, you can't imagine anything better than taking a lick of that savory-looking cone.
Only, you can't. All you can do is sit there and watch the ice cream cone melt quickly away before the kind(?) stranger hands you another one, ad infinitum.
Why can't you eat it? I dunno. Make up a reason. I like "Because your mouth has been sewn shut with steel wire. Then riveted over with an iron plate. Also, your tongue has been torn out so you wouldn't enjoy it anyway. and they kicked my dog, too."
Hell sucks, but at least I got a view.
Anyway, by now you get the point that there's a lot of pretty lasses that come through my doors.
About a week into my new job, I get a visit from The Owner. He's asks me why video "dosen't do well and what can we do about it to get this place to make some money?"
"Probably becuase there's three major rental chains in town, not to mention the mom-and-pop shops, and not to mention if i was a poor college student, I'd just as soon download the movie at college and spend the 2.50 on cheap beer. as far as ideas, i have none. I just started here and i'm still getting a feel for the place."
Appearantly I'm not telling him anything new. But he's got an idea for this place. A real kayo punch that will net a big win for everybody.
TO: "Let's get these movies out of here, and get Adult Movies in here."
LD: "Adult movies only?"
TO: "Yeah. we can compete if we only have adult movies, since only family's got them. It'll narrow the field down. We'll focus on two big moneymakers: Tanning and Adult movies."
LD: ".....are you fucking serious?"
TO: "You don't think it will work?"
LD: "You didn't just ask me that seriously, did you?"
Yeah. Tanning and Porno for the Win, according to Jack "Batshit crazy" Businessman.
I got a better idea. How about we just drill holes into the walls to the tanning booths, and just charge guys for peepshows? We'd actually SAVE money by not having to buy more adult videos, maybe even make our own by setting up cameras in all the rooms. Seriously, The Core demographic for this store is 18-25 females. The core demo for adult? just a WAG, but i'm betting 21-55 Males. Now, I'm not a nubile coed or anything, but if i was, the last place I would want to fake bake would be in a salon that was populated with men who were browsing porn and most likely leering at every girl that came in, waiting with bated breath for them to come out of the tanning bed wearing less than what they were wearing coming in.
As far as i know, that idea got put to the sword, which is good becuase I'm not being paid enough to be a jizzmopper.
To counterbalance that, I came home from work to find out that my MP3 Drive is roached. all my music is gone.
FUCK.
The luck giveth, and The luck taketh away.
Could be worse, I suppose. I could have found out that i just won a Bazillion dollars and then find out i'm going to die in a few weeks from a Deadly Strain of Herpes or something.
All I seem to be doing recently is running commentary on the weird-ass instances I'm having at work. As much as I don't like running a good thing into the ground, I do have another wonderful story featuring one of our more dysfunctional residents of C-town.
I was on my way to work sunday, and I see someone on a bike heading in the same direction. Once I catch a glimpse of who it is, I make the sign of the cross and hope that said person has no reason to come to the store. Well, that cross thing doesn't seem to work for little heathens like myself. Not twenty minutes into my shift, said person comes in. And while I was in the middle of looking up a title for a customer, he marches right in and launches into a barrage of words. I can't understand him very well because he sounds like I did when I young before I had my tongue clipped, only there's more screeching and TALKING AT THE TOP OF THE LUNGS in his voice.
The first words I can recognize is "You, know, Peaches?" and points to a missing cat poster we have up in the window.
"Uh, yeah. What about him?"
"well, I found him."
"Okay."
"I burned it, took off it's collar, and threw it in the drain."
"..." Yeah. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
"I just thought I should let you know."
"Huh. Well... thanks for telling me, But I think the owners would like to know. You should call them." At this point I'm looking for the sharpest object I can field in case he decides to come over the counter, because this kid(and by "kid", I mean "twenty-three") is apparently a fucking loon. Hopefully, he's also stupid enough to call the owner and tell them this story, as said owner is a cop and, hopefully, able to shoot dangerously crazy people.
He nods, asks for a pen and paper, goes outside, takes down the number, and takes off on his bike. And that's that.
Now, let me let you in on a little secret. My various jobs with the public have allowed me to play host to, in scientific terms, a lot of weird-ass shit(I seem attract the strange, and have been known to be a bit strange myself). But I've always been a bit jealous of the brothers Jones, as they always had a story that one-upped anything I had: their youthful experience with a certain boy who, as the legend goes, "poop his pants".
I am longer jealous, for now I have my very own J McP story to tell.
Besides having my own J McP experience now, there is a silver lining: I called the owners, and they said that their cat doesn't have a collar. So sleep a little easier knowing that someone's pet wasn't burned to death and thrown callously into the gutter.
Seriously, what the fuck? That’s got "future serial killer" written all over it.
There's this fucknut that came in today to start a new account to rent. At first things are going well, though I get the idea that he's only starting an account so this methed-out skank that lives near me can rent some movies becuase she's a goddamned fucktard and has a 50 dollar late charge and dosen't want to pay it. Case in point:
"Is there any way I can get my asshole husband off the account, start up an account under his name, and put the late charge on him? It's his fault, really."
"No. you allowed him to rent on your account when we opened this account up, remember?. You assumed liablity by letting him rent on your account. The late charge stays on your account."
"that's fuckin bullshit. it's his late charge." As you can see, the idea of responsibility is alive and well in this upstanding citizen.
Anyway, so I'm opening the new account, and I take a look at the Address. it's for a place in rural Marion. There's no fucking way I'm opening an account for someone who lives in Marion.
"Is this your current address?"
"No. I live here in town now."
"Well, I'm going to need a current piece of mail that shows where you currently live."
Here follows an annotated list of schemes they were going to use in order to bypass this little requirement:
1. The Paystub
"How about his tax refund stub? It's got his address on it..."
"I could take a paystub. Does it show where he currently lives?"
"No."
"I can't take it, then."
"But it's a federal taxstub!"
"With the wrong address. I need a current address."
2. The Second ID
"How about if I show you another ID with my address on it?"
"Okay." He hands me the ID. which now states that he lives in Sesser. Wow. Thanks, Dumbass.
"This isn't current, is it?"
"No. Like I said, I just moved here."
"well now that i've seen two pices of ID with two different addresses, I'm definately going to require a piece of mail that states your current address."
3. The Flyer
"How about this? will this work?"
"Sure. Now I just need a driver's license or State ID that says his name is "CURRENT RESIDENT".
Okay, I was a bit of a smartass, but seriously, WTF?
4. The Letter
"His dad is going to write him a letter to my house. will you take that?"
"No."
"Well why the fuck not?"
"Because it's just letter."
"But it's a piece of mail addressed to him! That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Oh, My. I see. I must have confused you. Let me clarify. I need one of the following: A rent reciept, a water bill, a light bill, a telephone bill, a voter registration card, or a new license or ID that has...his current address on it."
At this point the guy gets mad, says "fuck it", and starts for the door, on his way out, he retorts "fucking asshole." with the girl in tow, telling him to cool off. And they ride off back home upon thier BMX bike.
Oh no! I pissed off some white trash who most likely would have either Returned the movies late and never paid the late fee, if they even bothered to return them! How Can I Live With myself?
So...Guess who's NEVER getting a rental account now?
This story was going to be part of the earlier update, but this one needed to be told on it's own.
One of my tanners is a burnout. now, when I say "burnout", I really mean "rode hard, put up wet, then torn unceremoniously off the clothesline, beaten threadbare, and ran over by a convoy of semi's". Whatever drugs this woman was on at woodstock wasn't the "good shit", to say the least. I have problems with her being on time, and as we're fast approaching the high point fo the season, this is a problem.
Anyway, so said tanner comes in today, and wants to try a laydown bed. At first, I think she says she wants to go for four minutes, and since she mumbles like she's got a thousand dicks in her mouth and I'm hard of hearing, I ask her how long to confirm.
"I wanna go forty minutes."
"Forty minutes?"
"yeah."
"You can't go forty minutes. The max is twenty minutes."
"How about thirty minutes, then?"
"No. The max is twenty minutes."
"Okay then." with a scowl like I just killed her children.
"Your bed is ready."
A shake of my locks as she move towards thew salon, thinking mo more of her.
A few minutes pass, and another tanner comes in. I gotta go get the bed ready, and as I do so, I go past the room that Burnout is supposed to be in.
The door is wide open. The room, empty.
"Goddamnit, I don't believe this...."
I go back up front, see which machines are running, and find out Burnout slipped into the upgrade bed. I go back there, Knock on the door and yell "You're in the wrong bed. You're supposed to be in 2."
About ten minutes later, she still hasn't come out. A male tanner comes in, and I put him in a bed. I follow him back to knock on Burnout's door. On the way, the Door opens, and the male tanner quickly looks away as Burnout emerges from the door, complaining: "My bed won't turn on". Sadly, I don't catch the quick head turn and increased pace of the male tanner in time.
"That's because you're in the wron-OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCKPUTYOURGODDAMNSHIRTONJESUSCHRISTITHINKIJUSTTURNEDGAY"
When I was young, I was lucky in the fact that I never had to deal with the whole "catching your parents having sex" situtation that ends up doing damage to a child's psyche. Seeing a pair Of dry leather fun bags on a nasty old hag should more than make up for that now.
Thank God I got the Weekend off so I can spend it Drinking myself retarded in a vain attempt to erase the vision of hell I witnessed at work today.
Whereupon Livingdead answers some of the more interesting questions recieved during tanning season.
"No, I'm not going to let you sign up for a tanning package."
"Why not?"
"Because you're 11. The State of Illinois hates you, appearantly.
"Your tanning beds suck. How come I have white stripes running down My back? All my friends tell me they've never had that happen to them!"
"Look into something called 'pressure points'. I'm sure your friends have never had a problem with white stripes down the back, and that it would have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you are shaped and Look like Kraid."
"You don't look like you tan."
"I prefer to get my cancer the old fashioned way- By smoking and eating too much red meat, and getting married."
(A tanner comes in late)
"I have an appointment to tan..."
"I'm sorry, but I can't get you in."
"But I HAVE an appointment!"
"Yeah, I know. But since you're almost an hour late, and I Don't have a Time Machine, I can't work you in."
Do I Look like I'm getting darker?"
"Yeah, But you still need to do something about your ugly problem."
There was a bit more here I scribbled down as it happened, but I'm going to turn it into a post of it's own.
Sorry. been busy all week with work. I'm splitting time between two stores now, and I can't really say I enjoy it, But it gives me some more of the all-important money. I haven't had much to write about of late anyway. there's only so many ways you can write "Life sucks and I hate the world" before you start resorting to bad Poetry. and since i'm not a memeber of the cure or a teenaged goth/emo kid, i'll spare you.
Going to the NIN concert in champaign tonight, first concert of thier second leg of the tour, so hopefully it'll have a different setlist than what me, brandocrap, and slowbek saw in STL back in October.
Been playing a lot of Diablo 2 again, which is another reason why there haven't been many updates of late(especially on the weekend). It's a time-killer, and since the bars are in decline as of late, I'm down with that.
Working this Valentine's day. Yippee. I get to see a bunch of couple come in and rent movies that they aren't going to watch anyway. Fuck them. and fuck Valentine's Day. I hope the world ends that day.
Yesterday, I was at work. A teacher from my alma mater comes in, looking for a movie for her kids. "One with either Reptiles or Amphibians. you got any of those?"
"Unless we have Any Nat Geo Movies, I don’t think so." I look to the manager, as she shakes her head no.
"How about this one? This Has a Huge Amphibian in it! and it’s Rated PG-13, so it can’t be too nasty for the kids, right?"
This is the movie she picked up for her class.
Does anyone see the problem here? Here, I’ll spell it out for you:
IT’S A FUCKING SHARK.
Now, I don’t really expect anyone, let alone a High school "Special Needs" Teacher, to know the difference between Osteichthyes and Chrondrichthyes, but as a teacher, I would hope that you’d know that Sharks are a Godamned Fish and not an Amphibian. Let me Reiterate that for you.
SHARKS ARE NOT FUCKING AMPHIBIANS!
I won’t even go into the whole "Shitty sci-fi movie as a legitimate teaching aid" angle that should be rather appearant. might as well teach them to be Ditchdiggers.
From now on, I’m just going to say that I graduated from a School in Southern Illinois and not specify which one.
In other news, there’s stuff going on, which I will talk about later tonight. I’m gonna go get some Radiata Stories time in. I got a backlog from the last couple of weeks, most of which is probably forgotten, but i’ll try my best to recreate the magic.
I meant to get this up earlier then now, but hey, things happen.
Friday at work. this guy comes in, looks around, asks if he has any late charges. No, no you don’t, because you haven’t rented in a month, and you didn’t have any when you checked monday, either.
Anyway, looks around, then leaves.
Comes back ten minutes later,. asks me and My co-worker a question.
"Did you guys happen to notice anything strange when i was in here?"
We look to each other, and shake our heads. I’m thinking ’Wonderful. Some do-gooder dumbshit who wanted to see if we’d notice him stealing something.’
"Uhm, no."
"Well, My belt buckle was undone and I just noticed it myself, and I was just wondering if you guys noticed, or if anyone complained about my belt being undone."
Right, because when a GUY comes into the store, the first place I’m going to look is at his crotch. Moron.
Of course, he then motions towards said nether parts, showing the now offending belt properly buckled. Customers are staring in our direction in desbelief.
"No. No one complained."
"Okay then. Have a nice night." then walks out.
Upon his exit, co-worker starts laughing, Customers are laughing, some elaborating on how he’s a fruitcake, and I’m Creeped the fuck out, having just heard earlier this week that he’s *ahem* a bit of a Peeper with the boys.
Seriously, if you realized that you had your fly open, would you go BACK INTO the place of business you were just at and then ask the employees if they happened to notice that the barn door was open? I think I wouldn’t show up again till at least the next shift change.
this ranks right up there with the time the old black woman stopped in and asked about our tanning lotion, thinking it was sex jelly, then telling me that we shoudl sell that stuff so she can buy some to "get her man excited". in fact, i’m pretty damned sure this surpasses that. at least that was funny. this was outright creepy.
I really want these goddamned holidays to hurry the fuck up and get over with. i value the time with the friends, but hate just about every other aspect of it nowadays, and for good reason.
Of course I had to end on a bitter note. Did you expect any less of me?
Saw Sin city Uncut for sale last night at Wal-Mart( I have a love-hate relationship on many levels with that place) and took everything in me to keep from buying it. between that, Resident Evil 4, Tony Hawk’s American Wasteland, Dragon Quest VII, and a slew of other things, I made good getting out of there not buying any of them. Times like this make me miss having two jobs. Sure, I was burnt the fuck out, and i had almost no free time, but i made enough money that blowing 50-60 bucks on games or movies a week didn’t put me in a tight spot.
Then again, when I was working two jobs, I was also drinking half my paycheck away every weekend in addition to buying said games and movies, so I still ended up close to broke every weekend.
I’m half-ass confident now that I'm not trying to actively kill myself by way of Alcohol Poisoning, that I would at least do marginally better. hindsight, 20/20, and all that fucking bullshit that people use to assuage themselves about the past.
More musings later. Time to cook up some grits, hash, bacon, eggs, and toast for the G-ma and Moms.
"Non-entity" is sweet. you should find it and give it a listen.
Damnit Rockstar, thanks a lot. Now i want to buy a PSP.
I may end up at Pinch Saturday after all.
goddamnit. I got modded for threadjacking on FARK for talking about White pie in a Abortion thread. to be fair, it was an attempt to defuse an almost guaranteed flamewar, and i sure as hell didn't start it. shame on me, though, i guess.
The power went out yesterday for the most of Christopher, and while i was outside, Rod Serling's "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street" was going through my head. Thankfully, Power was restored just before Dark, so We didn't have to resort to pillaging and general mayhem.
Sorry, i'm all over the dial today. my circadian rhythm is beyond fubared. But hey, it makes for great delusions sometimes and great sleep when i finally crash.
And now, I'm off to get ready for WONDERFUL day of work.
I get a call while i'm at work, asking for the manager. I tell them she's not here, she'll be back on thursday.
they begin to launch thier pitch. In Business, this is Cold-calling. in real Life, this is Unsolicited telemarketing. tell them i have no power to authorize charges and that the person they need to talk to will be back on thursday.
back and forth we go a couple of times, them telling me that they're not asking for billing and me explaining that the person they should talk to isn't here. I must have said this about seven times between the lackey and then the supervisor.
i begin to take down callback info, whereupon they launch into thier spiel about how they have a website built and ready for us and that they are going to leave a callback number and a password for the manager to check out for free for 15 days and if we do't like it we can cancel anytime and if you're ready we're going to ask you a couple of questions via computer so we can generate your password and when you get to the final question just say yes becuase it's a preloaded question. this call will be recorded.
"fine, Goddamnit. Let's this this over with. Start the computer."
a couple of easy going questions, my name, and the business... easy shit, all said in a comforting computer voive."
then we get to this question, paraphrased since i have slept since the incident:
"Shadycorp is not affilated with the phone company, as such, and we need authorization to approve of sending the one time set-up charge of 49.99 and a 49.99 monthly maintainence charge to your local phone bill. Say yes if you are 18 years of age and are authorized to make charges to your Phone Bill."
This is what i like to call Railroading the customer.
So, in the deepest, loudest voice i can muster.."NO, Goddamnit! I fucking told you that seven times!"
the recording cuts off, and the supervisor comes back online.
"Sir, you said No to the question we told you to say yes to."
"You're Right. How Perceptive of you."
"sir, we told you that was a preloaded Question-"
NO GODAMNIT, YOU LISTEN TO ME! The Manager isn't here, I TOLD you Several Times I can't make charges, and yet you persisted on tyring to make me say yes. If you are really interested IN selling us something, YOU'LL CALL BACK THURSDAY JUST LIKE I TOLD YOU! GOODBYE!"
and that was my Tuesday. I'm hoping to hear back from them today, becuase now that i've got a little information from a helpful Website, i'm going to be merciless this time.
this is as good of a time as any to mention on of my more personal favorite Sites, AntiTelemarketer.com.
and I found This on Hack A Day. I might actually print it out and give it a try. I find being a complete Asshole to Telemarketers All the time gets boring.
Got reminded yesterday that the state fair is approaching. more musings on that later.
Well, time to get some more Neverwinter Nights in before i go to work.
damnit. I can't get my baldur's Gate 2 to work. like any of you care, but i've been reading a lot of frogotten realms lately, and immersing myself back into the world of Dungeons and Dragons.
Yes, i'm a dork. Fuck you. let's move on.
Anyways, so i've been on this kick with FR. Most likely to gear up for my favorite time of the year, October, when Salvatore releases his newest book, which deals directly with two of my favorite characters from the series, Artemis Entreri and Jarlaxle.
Now that i'm thinking of it, October is going to be a kickass month for all kinds of reasons. Nails concert, trips, and the fact that it'll be getting colder again. ohhh, how i love that cold. fat kids aren't built for Summer Weather. and the winter reflects a lot about me anymore, i believe.
anyways, up early this morning cause i gotta go to work. actually made myself breakfast this morning for the first time in what seems forever. usually, i'm not a big fan of breakfast, but i got up way earlier than i needed to, and decided to give it a whirl to see if i still got mad cooking skillz, and i do. though Mrs. Dash and coffee dosen't mix too well, let me tell you.
anyways, got the next couple of days off, and i hear there's happenings going on as well. gonna make the most of them. and if it results in me getting horribly drunk and pulling another stupid-ass, possibly life-threatening stunt, then more power to me, right?
The flames of rebellion burn hotter than ever in me. Three generations strong.
Nothing can, and nothing will quench the firestorm now.
Read/Watch/Listen/Play:
Star of Cursrah, clayton Emery.
Million Dollar Baby, Clint Eastwood, Morgan Freeman, Hillary Swank.
I worked with the new hire tonight. that was kinda cool becuase at least i had someone to yap at for my shift, but not too much as we were kinda busy for a wednesday night. it's usually boring as hell up there. no short shift, and usually not much else going on. Anywho, the NH was pretty cool to work with. She was featured in the "New Legal Ass Issue" of the Progress a couple of weeks ago. Well, that's what i call the High School Graduation Insert. i thought it was funny. anywho, she's seems cool and dosen't mind my weirdness is unrecordable by current three dimentional standards, so it oughta go okay then. sorry, my life was kinda unexciting tonight.
fast forward about seven hours...
i just spent the last six hours writing, jotting down quick stories, and plots. you wanna talk dorking out, i just did on a massive scale. I stopped writing the blog update even to go on my wild binge.
I haven't done that or been motivated to do that in an age. now it's like i can't turn it off, i just want to go write some more and flesh out some more ideas.
WTF got me in this creative spurt? and why can't i do it to make a update?
blah. I'm gonna go write some more, and not for you guys. Later.
Okay, help me out here. How many of you actually watch the "special features" disc on a two disc DVD? i realize this is a loaded question, as i myself dork out and watch said fluff disc. hey, if i spent 20 bucks on it, i'm going to wring every last cent out of it.
I ask this becuase i got bitched out today by some old guy becuase he didn't get the second disc and acted like he didn't get the WHOLE movie. i calmly explained to him over the phone that we don't normally lend out the Features disc becuase most renters arent' interested in them.
"but that disc has Ten extra hours of the movie! how can you NOT include it?"
"Holy Christ Almighty", i'm thinking.
"sir, it's extra features, 'making of" features, how certain effects are done. most renters aren't interested in that stuff. they just want the movie. We keep the second disc becuase most of the time people don't bring it back when we do let it go out. If someone wants the features disc, they just have to ask."
"well, i don't know how your business is run, but let me give you some advice... You should give people the option!"
It's at this point i'm biting my tongue, becuase i'm appearantly not the half-deaf one anymore in this conversation. yes, you can have the extra disc at no extra charge. No, i don't really give a fuck that this is your third time up here today. I didn't make you drive up here becuase you're so goddamned incensed that you feel you got jypped.
Now, like i said, don't get me wrong. I regularly watch the Extra disc on my DVDs... However, I also BOUGHT the damn thing, and for me to buy it, it means that i am interested enough in a movie that i would garner enjoyment out of dorking out over the technical details of a film.
If i'm renting a movie, or going to the theaters, i just want to see the movie. I could care less about hearing the commentary from The Second Keygrip Jizzmopper's friend Steve and the director's Son, ad nausaum,/i>.
sucks that it's only tuesday. I wish it was friday already. not that the weekend is much better at far as things go with my life, but at least i'll be drunk and Listening to Dr Zhivegas and Hairbangers Ball at Herrinfesta Italiana.
nevermind the fact that i'm german(with an irish Last name, no less.)
Thank god, he's gone. JoJo the idiot circus boy's last night was tonight. No more mangled lyrics and bullshit stories and hearing the same goddamned "woe is me cause i have to be here tonight" story fifteen times. I'll miss the lil fucker, mostly becuase his logic was so flawed it was hilarious.
in unrelated news, i put my own two weeks in saturday. no more Liquor boy after the first of may. less money'll be comin in, but more time off and less stress all around. which will translate into a nicer Mike. at least, that's the plan.
anywho, rock outs at the S friday. got to see some peoples i haven't seen in a While, and it was good. Speaking of Strangers, Bam Bam Stopped in unexpectedly tonight. I hadn't seen him in like three years, and hadn't talked to him in a little over a year. I had wrangled his number from his dad and drunk-dialed him last year while i was in the IC. It was late, and he had to work in the morning. I told him i would call him tomorrow, and well... i never did, becuase i'm a Jackass like that. but got like three of his numbers, and he works close by, so we'll see if we can get together for old time's sake.
Also found out a friend of mine's mother died, and that she had been trying to contact me, and i felt like a jackass again, but she's doing fine considering the circumstances, so that is good.
Gonna try and crack open Brandocrap's Drambuie, which, shamefully, i can't seem to figure out, and have a glass and watch a movie then some rest. I gotta work tomorrow and Kris is coming down for dinner after i get off work. good times.
Read/Watch/Listen/Play:
The Time Machine, H.G. Wells.
Hotel Rwanda, Don Cheadle, Nick Nolte.
Tweekend, The Crystal Method.
Xenosaga: Der Wille Zur Macht, Namco.
mdame
Yes I'm a New World Samurai
and a redneck nonetheless
Boy, sometimes it's a toss up as to which co-worker i dislike more at which job.
it's either the brown-nose that thinks he knows everything becuase he's 18 and he can make babies and he's in "tight" (har har) with the bosses, or the 20something that knows kung-fu, ninjitsu, and jeet-kune-do AND is going to be a bounty-hunting rock star.
I just can't decide.
anyways, that was my last couple of days. exciting stuff, no?
Sometimes, i get really great ideas in my head about what to write. this usually happens when i am out at the bar. OH YEAH i knew talking about that would help me remember.
Guys... The Juke at the S is now offically the Greatest Jukebox ever. Go there and find out why.
anyways, as i was saying, i get these ideas, and then when i get home, i end up forgetting them. this can be for a myraid of reasons, usually having to do with either going to the bathroom, or deciding to watch a movie, or reading Fark for an obscene amount of hours. then, when i decide it's time to do an update, i forget whatever kickass thing i was going to talk about and stir up trouble/offend with.
You, the reader, are the ones who usually get screwed becuase of my fickle nature which strands this site for possibly days, or even a week. so here's an apology: sorry, I suck.
i also have talked several times about doing a site upgrade, which i DO intend on doing sometime soon, but i have to talk to Justin Sane, one half of my gracious hosts, in order to do that and to, as we(not I, very obviously) in the web-building business, "make sure the transition goes smoothly". I promise to do that... uhm... sometime. considering my sleep schedule, and his work schedule, and my appearant inablility to email him, i can't give an honest timeframe. but for the sake of those who just can't live without such a time, let's say... sometime this decade.
Some of you May ask: But livingdead, others give thier blogs a facelift all the time! Why can't you, dunderhead?"
well, it's a technical answer that i'm only half-prepared to give and you are not really interested in hearing. so i'll save it for the next update, of which i will, of course completely forget about for a couple of days and then most likely not even cover becuase by the time i update, i will most likely have found something else to ramble and/or rant on about.
let's see... this is the hard part. trying to think of all the things i was going to write yesterday, but didn't.
first off: Unkunkie, Cracker Jack, and Angie are in serious need of updating.
secondly, in case you have been living under a rock for the last couple of months, 05_03_05 is a very important date. VERY important.
Also, if the computer Fairy is listening, i'd like the money for a new computer. I got to play Half-life 2 tonight, and well... I need to change my shorts. then i watched some Single Player DOOM3. i'm going to be having dreams of being Gordon Freeman Stuck on a hell-zombie infested Mars for the next couple of infinities.
I was up at the civic center here in christopher this past sunday, helping Mama Livingdead put chairs up before i go to work. Up there, they have a ton of old pictures of what christopher Used to look like. It was rather sad, actually. The town that used to be used to be so bustling with life compared to the shell that we have now. it's weird to see a hotel standing where the dairy queen is now, or the dirt road that served as main street. or to see buildings that have stood decadant for years and the businesses that once housed them.
I had a call tonight from a regular customer who, after asking who i was and asked for someone else who wasn't working, wanted to know if her brother could come in and cash one of her checks for her becuase, you know, she's out of money. she kept saying that i knew her and that it'd be alright blah blah blah.
"sorry, i really can't do that."
"oh but come on! You know me! blonde curly hair, comes through drive through all the time?"(Describing half of Southern illinois dosen't help)
"sorry, not ringing a bell."
"well how come you won't let me?"
At this point, slowbek caught a visual cue that i was getting annoyed and threw me a bone. "It's against company policy" he said.
"it's against company policy." I faithfully parrot back to her.
"it wouldn't be against company policy if you knew me." Said in a, i shit you not, "come-hither" voice.
At this point i figure out who it is, and yes, i do know her. and i'm still pissed off that Suicidal Tendancies and co. didn't help run interference one night at Cotton's last year when she pulled me out onto the dance floor and started grinding on a rather drunk and dumbfounded Livingdead. I had to fake going to the bathroom and hope she was too drunk to remember me.
"sorry, can't do it."
"Whatever." Click.
the moral of the story? You should make sure that the person you're trying to charm to get your way is indeed attracted to you.
I had a Lovely Weekend. and i also obviously like vague statements about how my times are going.
a bunch of unrelated stuff to talk about, so this updates gonna be kinda meaty with a dash of incohereant.
Happy birthday to Jehboah, one half of the gracious hosts of newbloodstudio.com that allow me to continue to exist on the web Ad-free, pop-up free, and Admin-free...all so i can keep serving up my own saucy brand of wit. Work with me here, Kids.
I sold my PS2 This weekend on a whim. I've been wanting one of the sexier, smaller ones due to the fact that i use it constantly, and such usage could burn out the drive tray. Not only that, but the network adapter provided au gratis by braddong was incompatible with my current hardware. So, after selling it, i headed to Wal-mart in benton to grab one of the sleek new pieces of wonderbox, only to find out that they were sold out.
"Damnit," i thought. "guess i'll just wait till tomorrow to go find one elsewhere." And then i decide against waiting becuase i'm probably going to Die without one.
I get to DuQuoin Wal-mart around 2:30 in the morning. Sold out.
Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot. This simply will not stand.
3:50 in the am, and i'm in Carbondale. As luck would have it, i get my hands on the very last PS2 they have in stock, amid the musings of the electronics guy going "that's the first time i've seen someone dance like that in my time working here. Granted, I probably shouldn't have been doing the bump and grind on the casing holding said system at four in the morning, but that's neither here nor there.
the rarity of these things in Southern Illinois(at least in this particular area) made me think about my own adventures behind the counter at EB. You see, back in 2002, there was a rash of sales concerning the redesigned Playstation 1's by men who were akin to buying three or four at a time. The strange thing was, they were buying nothing else but the systems. no warranties, no memory cards, nothing. just multiple systems at once. they were appearantly buying out the area, it seems.
Well, this got the attention of the Local authorities, as there was rumors that the components were being used to create bombs for an impending terrorist attack. That turned out that the systems weren't being bought so Osama can build a Nuclear Device out of Tekken(he should have taken a Cue From Saddam and Bought PS2's instead), but they were using the small redesigned units to ship drugs in after tearing out the electronic components.
What kind of drugs, do you ask? I can only speculate on this, but just for reference, here is a Picture of a Kilo-sized Brick of Cocaine. draw your own conclusions.
anyways, i just worked out a secret deal that it going to wrap up this update for today. Hey, you all want something to read tomorrow, right? Thought so.
Read/Watch/listen/Play
the Silent Blade R.A. Salvatore.
Interview with the Vampire: the Vampire ChroniclesBrad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Antonio Banderas.
Got tomorrow and monday off at both places. friday becuase One of the other workers that had orginally called off dosen't need to, and monday becuase i'd rather not be at work on that day. i dunno what i'm going to do, but the last thing i want to see is is a bunch of couples going out to enjoy thier night.
sorry this is short and not thought-provoking and/or funny, but i'm getting ready to go out. this week's been a long one with a lot of stuff in my head.
blah. i dunno what to write right now. I've been stumped for the last few days as to what to throw up on here. i put a hold on a certain announcement, but rest assured, it will appear soon.(read: this is a clever ploy to keep you reading, heh heh heh.)
here be links(i.e. I'm stalling until something pops on me head):
and something else i found: How many of These have you seen? I got a score of 14, but i also believe that the movie "Troll 2" was rated far too fairly. it should be right under, if not completely usurping the #1 spot.
quick hit from tonight:
Guy comes through drive-thru at the liquor store. wants a pack of smokes.
"can i trade these for those smokes i ordered?(it was the comp. pack of a buy 1 get 1 deal)
"negative."
"uh, what?"
"that means no."
"so i can't?"
"sorry buddy."
so he coughs up the money and lays it upon the sill.
"can i see your ID?"
"are you serious?"
"quite."
"man, i'm 19-20 years old! I don't believe this!"
"Well good for you! now prove it."
Whips out his ID, everything's kosher. pack of smokes sold over the ambiance of him swearing that he's not being a jackass(uh huh), but this is the first time in 6 billion years he's been carded yadda yadda yadda.
Well, about ten minutes later... he comes walking in.
"hey buddy, when i handed that money, was there a pill in there?"
"uhm, no."
he looks skeptically at me. "are you Positive there wasn't a pill in there?"
I've been dealing with idiots all night asking me if i knew the score(no) /watching the game(no, No T.V. and i'm in a tin can that gets shit for reception and i don't watch football)/howcome you don't like football, big'un?(because it's boring, and hockey's better anyways) comments all night, my "customer service" level is running a bit low.
all of this, and now i have a goddamned pillhead asking me if i've got his score.
"Quite positive."
"cause that was my blood pressure pill, man.."
"you should try not smoking."
no i'm on another rant.
big boy/big guy/big'un comments are so not cool. Seriously. if you think you're paying a compliment, you're not. How would you like this:
"hey big'un! how's it going? looks like you're staying wel-fed."
"Not too bad, Sir. How's that anexoria treating ya?"
We're not comparing dick sizes here, guys, becuase quite honestly, there's no comparison to be made. I'm bigger than you. I can survive longer in case we're stuck outside in the freezing cold on the side of a mountain. if we were on the moon, you'd float away before i would. I can't ride certain rides and i have to pay more for my clothes. i somehow live with it. I'm so sorry that you suddenly feel inadquate becuase i don't look like i've got a tapeworm or a coke habit. I'm fat and happy. you're skinny/average/whatever and happy. let's move on and hate each other for reasons other than weight.
now, don't get me wrong. i don't feel i have to point out that commenting how large or not is somehting i have to do, as i tend to think that my readers are intelligent enough to know better. That bit of advice is for all the dipshits who happen upon my page accidentally looking for hot and angaging crackwhore porn via AOL. plus, i just wanted to vent and right now seemed like a cool time.
anyway, i gotta get to bed.
Read/Watch/listen/play:
Servant of the Shard, R.A. Salvatore.
Unforgiven, clint Eastwood, Gene Hackman, Morgan Freeman.
Not much to report. i have a day off tomorrow from both places. I'm stoked. I am Offically out of SIU for a year. not so stoked about that.
REALLY not stoked about ESPN jumping into bed with EA. It's offical: Electronic Arts eats diseased cock for breakfast and ESPN sucks now, too. goddamnit. if you like good sports games, this is the last year to get the good ones, if you ask me.
So i talked one time about a coworker i hate at the liquor store. I got another awesome story to tell you about him.
He's going to become a certified Bounty Hunter now. He's gonna take classes and catch all the bad crooks and earn a living and gets all the wimmins.
Do you know what it takes to get certified? In most cases, a gun and a little reading on skip tracing. That's it. If you're a sucker, you end up buying some other bounty hunter's "textbook" and get a shiny piece of paper that any bondsman would Laugh his ass off at.
As much as i hate to shit on Little Boba Fett's Dreams here, but the other term for "bounty Hunter" is called "Bail Enforcement". In illinois, it's illegal. If you find that stuff interesting, you can read some more here.
Oh, to correct an error, on the last R/W/L/P, The Game was NHL 2K5, and not 2K4. My apologies.
speaking of that...
Read/Watch/Listen/Play
The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Douglas Adams.
Schindler's List, Liam Neeson, Ben Kingsley, Ralph Fiennes.
So tonight that i might see Mazzy Star.
Tour of the dead update Next Friday.
Confidential to Unknunkie: Tie Domi is a dirty bastard.
“He who fights with monsters should take care lest he thereby become a monster. For if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
-Neitzsche
i like that quote.
"the back will snap from burdens of envy
And I'll forget the mould who set me
I'll love it, and shove it from proof to trial
Because I carry the weight of denial"
-Ruby
I like those lyrics too.
I passed my classes, And I have my Degree. SIU is screwing around with me though. I may or May not be going this fall. If i don't get my financial aid, i can't go this semester. i have an appeal in, so we'll see how that goes.
either way, i'm preparing. I took on a second job back At the Barrell. between that, Working at what is now called Silver Screens, and doing some odd jobs for my old boss pooh, I'm not doing much else. Keeping busy right now is good. It gives me less time to think about things.
I'm seeing someone at the moment. Pardon me if i don't sound too excited about it, but i have a rather dim view of things pertaining to relationships these days, for obvious reasons. things are okay when i'm hanging with her, but when i'm not, i have time to think. I struggle daily with the thought of just ending it, just to spare her and me the inevitable end. My mind says "Let it ride and see where this goes. Nothing ventured, nothing Gained, Right?", and my heart says "There's only room for one in here, pal. You still haven't let her go, and you're never going to give someone a fair shake." So i just stay in this limbo. but since i'm keeping my nose to the grindstone, i don't have to think about it.
Ahh... good ol' Busch. You help me dull my senses in times like these, make me think less about things, or make me numb to them. when i don't have my nose in the books, or splitting time between two jobs, i can use you. and when you get me drunk, i can stumble off into my bed, and sleep knowing any dreams about the things i don't want to think about will not be remembered.
then i can wake up, wash, rise, repeat.
and since i'm now drunk... here is an excerpt from my offline journal becsause, well why the fuck not?
sometimes, at night when i am on the border of consciousness and sleep, i can stil hear her rhythmic breathing when she was asleep. And for a moment, i know a sense of true peace. The kind where everything's alright and it was all a bad dream that i just woke up from and i'm falling back asleep. and My hand slips over to her side of the bed only to feel a cold pillow. True peace for me is gone. The only Peace i know is the dead calm that results after tearing myself apart emotionally. Self-destruction: it's not just a catchy term, It's a way of Absolving myself.
If there is ever one piece of technology in the world i wish to never EVER have to fuck around with again, It's the Dot Matrix Printer. It is obviously clear that the only reason we advanced in printer technology is becuase someon techie had it up to here with Satan's Device.
That is all. i'm going to beds.
Confidential to Dreaders: That link was the Shit, yo.
sometimes, it's hard to come up with subject lines, so it ends up being the first weird thing that pops in my mind. there's your explanation, if you're wondering.
it's the day of Saturn, and i am bored, and don't have much plans. going to try and keep the rest of my money so i can do this thing called "go up to see The Lady" next weekend.
unfortunately, there is a kink in the plan. not a major one, i assume, but one nonetheless. i have to be back by five saturday becuase i have to work a short shift. there seems to be a lot going on, and just about damn near everyone needed off, and finally, instead of keeping the pressure on my manager to force someone to work, i went ahead and said i'd do it, long as i don't have to be in till five, in order to allow for some time to get home from SIUE.
Do not fear, peoples, for i will be out of there ASAP, and will quite happily play catchup in the race to projectile vomit the most alcohol violently out of my body.
anywho, i don't have much to say today. I just got back from Carbondale, i still feel hungover, and i had that damned meeting today at 8 in the am. i'm gonna go and relax with equal measures of the 5th edition of DP, rock out to some out skool alternative, and play the newest piece to my ever growing collection of games-i-buy-but-will-never-make-any-money-off-of-them-probably, Secret of Evermore.
here's something to keep the monkeys busy: Name three chicks(or dudes, for those of you of the labial nature) in music that you'd bump uglies with.
My three: Beth Gibbons, Juliana Hatfield, and Amy Lee.
how about that for a starter? hopefully, it makes up for such a late update. i just got off work, after smelling the acrid stench of radiated flesh for about the last four hours. boy, i can't wait for the real tanning season.
by the way, if you haven't heard already, Science just gave the girlfriends of the world the the Biggest Weapon ever for not giving head. thanks a lot, science. really. i love the fact that you can't find the time to study other things, like things we drink, or better yet, a cure for cancer. Instead, you do this. really, thanks. good thing i can still masturbate violently without cuasing myself cancer.
argh. anyways... since i'm pissed off... it's time for
The ongoing misadventures of a late 20's 30 year old male still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Suggestions, hate mail, wedding proposals, and naked pictures of hot women can be sent here.
