(I am back and we have some things to discuss. Can't... control.... anger!"

Thursday, March 31, 2005

More on (moron) gas prices

I made a previous post about gas prices going up towards $2.50/gallon. So, since that post prices have gone up more. So the news sent a team out to see the man on the street. They interview some guy, "This is Bill from Cleveland - Bill is only getting $5 worth of gas - because it is all he can afford." So they cut to the guy filling his tank - he makes some comment about how expensive gas is getting and I shit-you-not he has a carton of cigarettes in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. Well.... that looks like about $20 worth of crap you probably could forgo shithead.

My gripe isn't with gas prices its with the actual price. Let me clarify. I don't mind paying $2.29/gallon for gas. I DO mind paying $2.299/gallon. What the fuck is that? Pennies are stupid and useless - but fractions of pennies? That is total bullshit. I think all of the stations need to band together and just agree to shit-can the fraction of a penny. They all do it and it annoys the shit out of me.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

I am a food racist

I figured this ot last night - I am a food racist. I hate black food. I don't mean I hate the food that is associated with African Americans. [I don't think we should be talking about this]

What I mean is I hate foods that are the color black. We had biscuits last night and the bottom of mine got burnt. Ummmmm.... no thanks. Sorry - too black for me. Same goes for hamburgers - medium is good - but once it blackens up, I am out - I can't eat it. Ever go to a cookout and there is a platter of hotdogs - I always go for the pink ones. Some people grab the Chernobyl leftovers that are singed beyond recognition - gross!! I hate banana's that have turned black - they are nasty. If I am eat a non-black banana and I see a black patch I ditch the whole thing. Burnt marshmallows? I just dump them into the fire - or pull off the black shell and eat the white goodness (damn I *am* a food racist). Black jellybeans? Are people for real eating these? And black licorice? No one is eating that shit.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Keep your fucking hands off my kid

I went to BJ's the other day with my wife and 2 kids. My littlest kid is 7 months old (and is super ridiculously cute). Anyway, I have to go get my card renewed so I take the little'n and my wife gets the big one. We are standing in line and I see a lady in my periferal vision. I immediately realize she is going to touch my kid - I am not sure how I know this - I just know. She moves in close and starts ooohing and ahhhing him. I actually turn my shoulders to interpose myself between her and the object of her tactile desire. She breaks off the attack and goes away.

When I get to the front of the line - this same lady is the one running the register for renewals. Dammit - it was a strategic withdrawl - she's got us cornered. I hand her my credit card and she rings it up. She goes to hand me the reciept and sees her opening. "I can hold him while you sign this." Fuck - I am too slow and she grabs the bub's wrist (gently - not trying to pry him free or anything). I smile and get the F out of there.

Another time the whole fam is in the food court at the mall. My wife has the little one (he is about 4 months at this point - but still enticingly cute). My kid-toucher sensor starts going off. I get the bigger kid (2.5 years old) and I shove him into a quarter operated ride. The attacker is close - I can feel her. Decloaking off the starboard bow!!! This totally crazy lady and some other lady walk up. "Look at heeem, he is soooooo beautiful!!" [inner monolgue - okay - back off slowly] The lady touched his arm. [honey back off - back off now - full reverse - release chaff - fire flares - evasive manuver pattern Tango!!!] Too late. Crazy lady says, "he is sooooo gorgeous!!" Then she leans in and kisses my kid's cheek!!! WTF? Are you insane? I should have karate chopped her ass - but I was stunned. As she is pulling away I am studying her in excruciating detail. I could pick this lady out from a lineup with her 3 other quadruplet sisters. She had bucked up chompers and the kicker is that she had a Medic-Alert braclet!!! What!! What is wrong with her - why does she have this? "Dear medic please be aware that this crazy lady has a scortching case of syphillus" Dammit.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

My Interview

So there is an idea out there for blogger interviews. I hadn't heard of it until earlier in the month - but it is a pretty cool idea. Basically you ask someone who posts to your blog some questions and they answer them. This is a good way to get people to look at both blogs etc. Anyway I agreed to be interviewed by Beck. Beck is a new mom (it is hard to tell from her fuzzy profile picture - but I think she is a hot mom) in Utah. She is very sweet and I bet people like getting hugs from her (that is a guess - but she seems like the good hugger type). The official Interview rules are at the bottom of this post - feel free to volunteer for the scrutiny and humiliation.

Beck's questions....
(1) Where is the most interesting place that you've been naked?
Freshman year of college I lived in a coed dorm (Goodyear Hall). I am obsessed with walking around while I brush my teeth. I see nothing socially inappropriate about it and it is better than standing infront of the mirror. So I am brushing my teeth and I decide to walk around and I head out into the hall. No one is around - but I hear talking in Amy's room. I walk in and she is talking to one of our friends. I am mumbling through the tooth paste foam and they are listening. {Let's stop and discuss attire. I am in some Tshirt and boxer shorts. I have sexy legs - so this is really my best look.] Suddenly Amy starts laughing and pointing and our other friend dives for cover yelling "POOR!" (this was similar to "weak" or "awful!"). I realize I am "smurfing". [smer : f : ing] v. when ones male bits pop out of boxers or other shorts and resemble the adorable (and small) domaciles of the Smurfs. Yep - I'm out there and looking like an asshole.

2) Do you believe in God?
This is simply the hardest question you could have asked. I would have answered these a long time ago if all I had to talk about was my penis falling out in awkward situations. I want to plead some kind of cosmic 5th amendmant. Like I want to say I don't believe in God - but I want to make sure he doesn't hold it against me if I am wrong. This isn't like hearing your radar detector and saying, "nah, nothing to worry about - its a false alarm" Getting this one wrong could mean eternal damnation. So I am "Agnostic" - agnostic is really atheism for p**sies but I need some wiggle room. I will start posting about religion since Beck has outed me.

3) What, if any, are the genetic conditions you might inherit that may lead to your eventual death? (for example, my husband has prostate cancer coming from both sides. Yup, it'll do him in one day.)
My entire family tree has heart problems - frankly I am amazed we live long enough to procreate. I think a heart attack will be my undoing.

4) What is the most embarrassing moment you've ever witnessed someone else having?
Nothing is jumping to mind. I was with my friend Sarah when she had a Gall Bladder Attack. She looked like she was going to die. I didn't think it was embarassing - but she did. She was too embarassed to go into the ER - she would rather have died of a heart attack.

5) Do you have any fun zoo stories? Please share! (Like the time the orangutan smeared poo all over the window right in front of my brother and I.... that was awesome.)
I have like 1,000,000 stories - my coworkers have heard all of them like 1,000,000 times - but I have no zoo stories. I did go to Marine Land on my birthday when I was little. And that is supposed to get you kissed by Shamu - but they saw fit to fuck me over and not give me my sweet fish lovin'.

Here's how it works: (the official Interview rules)
1. Leave me a comment saying "interview me"
2. I'll respond by asking you five questions here on my site (you'll each get your own questions)
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you'll ask them five questions.

Friday, March 18, 2005


Oh my god!! On the news today they said gas prices might jump to $2.50 this summer! I mean it was such big news that our local FOX channel had a lady standing infront of a gas station and reporting (thank god the gas was only $2.19 - better stock up now!)

Are you fucking stupid America? Okay, I'll break this down for you.

* 1,000,000 years ago a dinosaur has to die in a bog
* millions of years of pressure squeeze the bio-matter into oil
* a survey team with millions of dollars of equipment comb the fucking scortching desert to find the oil
* They might even be wrong a few times and waste a bunch of money
* Then the oil is discovered and a massive operation is built to tap the source
* Once the oil starts pumping it is put into a pipeline (oh they have to build that too)
* The pipline takes the oil to huge containers near the sea
* Oh and people have to protect these with their army so fuckwits like Saddam don't burn them down
* Then it is pumped on to a super-tanker (which must be a couple hundred million a copy)
* Then the ship and her whole crew sail to the US
* Then the oil goes to a refinery (by pipeline or truck)
* Then the oil is refined by a bunch of people at some super fucking expensive place
* Then it is put on to trucks and shipped to 7-11 (the truck driver gets paid)
* Then you pump the gas and pay Rajneesh (he gets a cut too)

After all of that - all of those people it is fucking $2.19!!! Are you kidding? It should be like $400 a gallon. But no we bitch and complain. My commute is 60 miles a day - my car gets roughly 30 miles/gallon so a $1 increase in gas costs me $2 a day. So there is some impact.

So this is the big complaint $2? Let's get some TV crews on the scene fast!! You fucking idiots! You pay $4.25 for a fucking Chai Latte-chino every goddamn day!!! To make this they do this -

* Some kid picks some beans and gets paid with a bowl of rice
* The beans are shipped to 'bucks
* A dude making minimum wage grinds them and gives them to you

Somehow this is worth $4.25 and no one complains. God I will fucking throat punch the next reporter at a gas station - get your shit over to StarBucks - that is where the news is. Dammit - am I the only person that is thinking this??

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Back in the Saddle

I'm back baby! I know I could give dozens of excuses for not posting (illness, training etc) but none of them are true. You'll notice that Toren hadn't posted for quite while too. That is because we have totally been making out for like a week straight. I cannot resist her southern charms. I have come up for air and it is time to post something.

The Hungover Interview ---
I went to college in Buffalo (University at Buffalo - who got totally fucked by the NCAA selection commitee). In Buffalo every Thursday night they had $5 all you can drink at Molly's Pub. $5!!!! So needless to say we would get shithoused regularly. Well one week in particular I had a phone interview with Gilbarco (they make gas pumps - glamorous I know). Well Marc, Choach and I got lit off our asses and then stumbled to Choach's place to crash. I woke up at about 7am in a total panic. My interview was in 1 hour. I had to get a ride back to my place - but I felt sick as a dog. The sun light made me wanna puke - as did Choach's irradic driving. I got to my place at about 7:55am - not enough time to shower or do anything.

My head was pounding and I wanted to puke. I went into my room in the basement (which was very dark) and waited for the call. Finally the dude calls. He asks me some prelim questions and then says what the job is. They need C programmers for their new gas pumps.... What ... did I hear that right - God I must be more fucked up than I thought. I just say, "uh huh" But I am thinking "it just dispenses gas... not a lot of programming needed." Oh and I am pretty sure I have to puke - so I am trying to wrap things up. But not southern Charlie he wants to spin a yarn about gas pumps of the future. "See the pumps'll have these screens that people'll interact with - ya know - order food from inside - tell how much cream and sugar - and the like" [I want to die, oh don't puke, please don't puke...]

Mind you - he has asked me zero technical questions. So after telling me all of the fabulous things I will be doing at the gas pump in the future he fires into some questions. Now, fortunately for me - some alcohol enhanced BS center in my brain fired up at full speed. I was answering questions WHILE looking up more info in different text books I had. So I would softball the answer for a bit and then find info in a book and give him a more complete answer. This was seamless and the dude must have thought I was a fucking rock star. I was hoping he'd be so impressed we'd cut things short. I gave about 10 solid answers in a row - but I needed to hit the shower to extinguish this monster f'ing headache I had.

I could sense things were wrapping up so I grabbed a towel and bathroom stuff and headed up there. I was sitting in the darken bathroom - contimplating turning the shower on and he is still going on about the fucking wonders of gas pumps. Oh, shit I am going to puke. I flip the lid up and figure out how to get the phone muted for impact. I also contimplate hanging up on him and puking while he is calling back, "yeah weird - our phone has been doing that a lot lately..." It is go time and spanky is still chatting away. I am "uh huh"ing my ass off. Finally, he says "Do you have any other questions for me?" I say no - and praise the lord the call ends. I dive into the shower and curl into the fetal position. Fortunately, the shower takes care of the headache and the puking sensation.

Gilbarco called back later in the week - they offered to fly me down to S.C. for a followup. I declined - I had partying to do and I couldn't be bothered with travelling to Gas Pump central.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Tool - The Grudge

Wear the grudge like a crown of negativity.
Calculate what we will or will not tolerate.
Desperate to control all and everything.
Unable to forgive your scarlet lettermen.

Wear the grudge like a crown. Desperate to control.
Unable to forgive. And we're sinking deeper.

Defining, confining, controlling, and we're sinking deeper.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005


I am in some class for 3 days so I can't really post during the day. Oh and my hotel charges for Internet access - so I can't post at night (If I am getting a room charge it will be of the porno variety). So my blog is going to hella suck until Friday (at least). Oh... what the hell, how 'bout a quick one.

Gas Pumps
Here is some shit that pisses me off at the gas pump (I have to be brief).
(1) Sometimes the credit card reader is broken. I am not sure why or how this happens - but I never discover it until I am parked and out of my car.
(2) Remove card QUICKLY!!! Why - what is the deal? Do you not have to pay if you remove card slowly?? No other card readers on earth have a speed requirement.
(3) Credit or Debit? My card is *only* credit - isn't there a computer in there that can figure it out and skip that question?
(4) Car wash? F you. I never want a car wash - they are a stupid waste of money - let me start pumping gas and THEN lets play 20 questions.
(5) People who have to "top off" and then some little "shock wave" is sent through the whole gas station and every pump sort of hiccups as they click away for the last ounce.

Okay that's it. I have a good story about having a hang over and getting an interview with a company that makes gas pumps.

Other stories I owe you:
bathrooms (in the stall)
the hungover Interview

Friday, March 04, 2005

Airports.... (some of my best rage yet)

God - please give me the strength and endurance to properly convey my rage regarding airports. Nothing makes me want to end the lives of strangers more than the airport. Take 100's of perfectly sane and rtional people and put them in an airport and it's like Lord of the frickin' Flies. I'll try to keep this in some logical order (my brain is screaming everything I hate in one overbearing rant stream - I will try to make sense of it).

Outside the airport
Before even entering the airport - it sucks. The traffic sucks. Long term parking is about 400 miles from the airport and is still like a billion dollars a day (oh and a "day" equals 31 minutes apparently). If you are getting dropped off it is just as bad. One million people jockeying for position in the curb lane - taxis wizzing about - some ego inflated rent-a-cop yelling at you to move along. You basically have to toss the person and the luggage out - or a dude with an M-16 comes over to speed things up. It is worse on the pickup end - because you can't find the person so they (M-16 guy) makes you drive away. Then you have to loop around and jockey again.

Finally there is curbside check in. A bunch of dock-worker looking guys that can check you in. F that - some people swear by this - but I am never doing it. I don't know who they are or where my luggage will go. Plus I just spent $500 for an hour flight - I am not tipping anyone.

Inside the Airport
If there are 100 airlines flying - and only *1* has a really long queue at check-in - that is the one I will be flying on. So I get in a line with the other 1,000 people. We are all schlepping a ton of shit and anxiously await our chance to move 11 inches closer. As soon as the line moves - you are like AWESOME movement. Then the guy infront of me doesn't move - and I am thinking come on - 11 inches - MOVE!! People with platinum-gold-medalion-one-pass service are flying through some other line that has 14 dedicated check-in people. I finally get about 2 people from check in. Then comes the pain. "Ma'am? ma'am? Next available please. MA'AM?? Excuse me MA'AM??" For fuck's sake lady we have been in line for fricken 3 hours - have you watched the process AT ALL? When you get to the front of the queue - you have to actively scan back and forth for the next agent - not sit there with your thumb in your ass. Finally the lady notices she is next and is being hailed. (This is the exact smae shit people pull when they are in the pole position at a red light. I am 13 cars back thinking, "okay I *can* make this light - be we have to work together here. Then it goes green and dipshit at the front doesn't move!! You have one job - when the light goes green punch it!! God!) [better make a new paragraph so anonymous doesn't have a shit fit]

I get to the check-in agent and I have all of my papers and ID ready (this is rare and I can see her appreciation). I generally ask for a seat with more leg room - and sometimes I get it. I think because I am not being a total demanding fuckwad like most people. She asks if I am checking any bags and I usually say no (Note: if I am on the borderline I will check it to avoid the embarassment of having to try to shove the thing into the overhead when it won't go). Off to the metal detectors.

I think society really breaks down here. It is another long line. People fidget relentlessly. I look around and take note of people with *way* too much shit for one person to take in carry on. People should know the drill empty everything out, take off shoes and belt, open laptop then walk through radiation bombarding arch and hope for no beep. But people are stupid and always decide to go piecemeal. BEEP! So they take off the watch. BEEP! They take off their belt. BEEP! They remove the shoes. BEEP! So they get the little wand thing. People get *really* pissed if they are detained at this stage. (Lots of sighing and groaning). See I don't give a shit - becuase (1) I don't want to get blown up. (2) I am 2 hours early for my flight - they can do a full cavity search and I'll still have plenty of time to relax before my flight. People are stupid and try to cut it razor thin so that if they are slowed for more than 20 seconds they miss their flight.

At the gate
When you are waiting for the flight you get to people watch - which is awesome. I love to watch smokers get off a flight and run full speed to a designated smoking area. I love to watch people run to catch a flight. I just love to watch people suffer. So they make the announcement, "Flight 7837 with non-stop service to Miami will begin a courtesy preboard for the handicapped and those with children and the mile-high club" At this point everyone starts to look around and weigh the competition. They think, "I am in row 9, which will be called last - but if I go stand close to the gate I can dart in front of people - maybe I'll go when they call row 10 and higher - yeah fuck em." So there is an impenetrible wall of people that aren't moving - you have to weave through when your row is called. Hey - assholes - you have a ticket - no one is taking your seat. RELAX!!

At the baggage claim
This is the worst part of all. People are in a genuine panic. They have to be 1 millimeter from the conveyor thingy. They have to have their huge cart 1 millimeter from the conveyor. As soon as they hear the "BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ" they almost lose their minds. (Like a dog waiting to be fed). I usually stand back and wait to see my bag - when I do I walk up and politely say, "excuse me" If people move we are fine - if they don't I intentioanally shove them and bash them with my baggage as I pull it off. Yeah - that's right - fuck you.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005


Voicemail is the worst thing ever. People leave long rambling messages that have zero content. "I am having an issue with a specific system. Everytime I go in a get this weird error. I had Toby try it to and he gets the error. It is really annoying and it is hampering our ability to do our job. This is urgent - please address it as soon as possible!" Great - so I have no idea WHAT system it is or WHAT you were doing or WHAT the error is. So I have to call you and tell that to your voicemail - so you can voicemail me back. Use Email and give specifics!!!

The other bad one is this guy. The guy that leaves a voicemail like he's Ban Stein, "Hi.... Scott... It's.... Reggie..... I .... am.... having ...... an ....... issue ......" It is like my whole life. Then right at the end he makes the jump to light speed. ".... really ...... important ...... please ...... call ..... me ..... at 546060349343459" Like this wicked fast turbo charged deluge of fucking numbers that my brain cannot handle. Holy crap - it is overloaded. Then I have to listen to his P.o.S. message again and poise myself to capture the phone number at the end.

Why? Why do they want me to hate them?