I don't know how much longer I can take this

It's happening again. I am going to be (for the most part) serious here. It is the last day before a 3 day weekend (unless of course like me you have two jobs, in which case it is one more day of work and a one day weekend, but still...), and no one is doing any work. Me included mind you. I have no problem admitting that I have not done one damn thing today. That's what happens in an office. But its the conversations that are killing me here.

Apparently Asian (who just won't go the hell away) is down here discussing how she was watching Nickelodeon with one of her kids, and on "The Fairly OddParents", someone made some kind of reference that was pro-evolution. Repeat after me...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! For the love of Christ Almighty, are we still dealing with this shit? Quick, call the PMRC and the Coalition for Family Values and every other fringe outfit (and while you are at it, give a shout out to the ACLU, because if there is a chance to make a point of mistaking having a differing opinion than them so they can denounce you as being Un-American, they will take it). I don't like this whole "Intelligent Design", because let's call it what it is, Creationism. And let me make this clear, I believe in Creationism. But I also believe in Evolution. It's not that big of a leap. My problem is that Intelligent Design, or whatever you want to call it, is based in the Judeo-Christian theology. Muslims and Hindus and every other belief system doesn't necessarily believe that, and to teach that and not acknowledge EVERY other theological version of creation is tantamount to having a state religion. And that is not what we believe in as a country (at least that is what it says in the Owner's Manual).

So Asian says, "If they are pro-evolution, where does that put Adam and Eve?" NEWSFLASH::::::::: they can still be there. Fact of the matter is, God didn't create the sun until the 4th Day if I remember my Genesis correctly. So the first 3 Days could have been any length of time as we measure them. I am pretty sure God measures time a little differently than we do. And IMHO, God can make any day he wants lasts as long as he wants. And how is THIS for a theory. Adam was created from the clay of the Earth, correct? Couldn't "clay" in this case be the primordial ooze that birthed the single cell organisms that evolved into human beings? And since Eve came from Adam, couldn't her split be when one being became two, much like single celled organisms do now? And really, doesn't EVERYBODY come from a single celled organism running into another different single cell organism? Sperm to egg, and BINGO! Its a ZYGOTE!

I am going to ramble here and will hopefully be able to come back tomorrow after work and complete this. I do need to make a point very clear. I do not think that being created in God's image is a physical thing. God is not some man or woman walking around. God has no color. To me, being created in God's image is that we as human beings are multifaceted. We experience a range of emotions and have ranges of reactions to each emotion depending on various stimuli and scenarios. Read some Old Testement, see God's love and God's wrath and God's revenge. He creates the Earth and floods it to start over, all in Genesis. That is one hell of a delete key.

Okay, I have to wrap this up, but let me make a few bullet points to reference for tomorrow...

• female priests
• homosexuality
• prosecution from 100 yrs ago
• slavery
• Uncle David
• Pop and Grandpa Chick

There is more, but I will have to recall it and write it down tonight in between annoying "guests" at Target.

my brain hurts

I think I have officially cracked. Gone off the deep end. No more Mr. Rational Guy. It is probably due to a combination of exhaustion from my schedule and sensory overload from the bombardment of the holidays season (plural on purpose. Chanukkah and Kwanzaa both start the day after Christmas, and they are both holidays). For instance, as I was doing my closing walk/item count/inspection the other night while at Target, I walked past the Chanukkah display. As I looked at it, I swear I saw a shelf full of containers of Chanukkah Pepperoni sticks. That made me pause for a moment, because nothing says Jewish Holiday like cured and seasoned pork. Well, upon closer inspection, it turns out that it said "peppermint" sticks. But I think there is one hell of an untapped market for Channukah pepperoni sticks. Who wants to get in the ground floor for this. It could be the next Pet Rock. Of course it could also be the next Cop Rock. But life without risk is just too damn boring for me.

Secondly, I just got some stuff I ordered from a woman in the office that she was selling for her daughter (side bar - the wife and I need to start having kids soon, if for no other reason so that I can start hawking overpriced crap at people in the office. Revenge shall be mine!!!!!). I was looking at the box it came in (it is a box of different cookie doughs), and could have sworn I saw the words "fucking powder" on the box. It turns out it said "baking powder". It was clear as day. But the first time I saw it, it did NOT say "baking" on it anywhere.

Finally, for the majority of the day, I have had the theme to Charles in Charge stuck in my head. Why? I have no earthyl idea except that I have done something to incur God's wrath, and since it can't rain frogs in the middle of the hospital, this was the next thing He thought of. I haven't seen the show, nor any mention of it, not even a reference to it in so long that I cannot remember how long it has been. There has been one Scott Baio reference recently, while discussing Arrested Development with my buddy/upstairs neighbor/tenant. But that reference not got past Chachi, if it got that far.

I must head out to work. I have to go to Bel Air tonight again (repeat after me...wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee). I want to be home by 11 so I can get a little sleep before work tomorrow, to be followed by my cousin's wedding. But I needed to share that.

Feast or Famine

Apparently I have the bug up my ass to write again. So here goes...

I hate when people call Target "tar-JAY" (soft "j"). It is not funny, and whatever irony you think exists by shopping at a value priced store and giving it a name that supposedly makes it sound haughty and expensive just doesn't exist. The only irony is that there is no irony there (oooh, mental moebius strip!). And really, it's just not funny. I don't know if it has ever been. You are the same people that called the alvation Army "Le Sal's", and Nordstrom's "Nordy's". You are all blathering idiots.

Now back to trouser socks. I really do need to know what the difference is between "trouser" socks, and socks you can buy in a 6 pack or 12 pack at Wal-Mart or Target or K-Mart or any other damn place. To me, it sounds like an excuse to charge extra for tube socks. And (gender differences and stereotypes be damned) I am willing to bet that men have never bought trouser socks. NEVER.

I have a few random thoughts that are floating in my head, so here they are in no particular order...

The Power Rangers are nothing but a pale imitation of Voltron (the lions, not the cars. But IMHO, the cars never got a fair shake. They were like Bo and Luke's cousins. Doomed from the start), with some really bad karate moves thrown in for good measure. And they have been on for what, 10 years now? Longer? No wonder kids are getting dumber.

Speaking of kids, I do not believe that time outs work. I got my ass whupped more times than I can possibly count (I am pretty sure that having to whup my ass is the reason my mother has arthritis now. All the slaps she gave me must have thrown her bones out of alignment. Especially because I learned early to clench up my butt cheeks when the whuppin started, so my mother just started whuppin harder. She probably knocked her spine out of alignment trying to make sure I got the message. And eventually I did. It took longer than expected, but still. And since my juvenile record is sealed, you will have to take my word on it). I am either for spankings or psychological warfare. My "big brother" (mentioned earlier) uses the latter. He has convinced his son that if he misbehaves, he can call the Amish to vome take him away. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a straight face the first time you hear a grown man threaten to call the Amish to take his son away if the son doesn't stop misbehaving. Thank God I was there and knew he wasn't joking (at least not as far as his son was concerned). And to see the panic in his eyes when he grabbed the phone, the boy running to his father crying "PLEASE don't call the Amish!! I'll be good!!!". I had to excuse myself and go outside and down the street so as to not ruin it by gut laughing. It works. And really, shouldn't we all be at least a little afraid of the Amish? But here is the best part. About 2 years ago, my bro and his wife bought a house in Red Lion PA. Right in the middle of Amish Country. Apparently whenever they pass one of the buggies, he sinks REAL low in his seat and whimpers a little. Of course, there is an off chance the kid will end up on a tower somewhere going all Lee Harvey Oswald on people, but as long as you don't have a beard w/out a mustache and don't wear big hats, you should be okay. He'll probably just wing you.

Dammitall, I had others, but I just got 3 phone calls in a row from patients and completely lost my train of thought. Hopefully I will get it back soon and I can finish this before I leave work today. I doubt I will have time to do anything this weekend. We shall see.

The Circle of Life, office style

Okay, here we go again. As I said last post, Asian is gone. Except for one thing, SHE WON'T LEAVE!!!!! For some reason, even though she was promoted and moved to a floor where you can actually have windows that view air and the outside world, she keeps coming back down here and spending 30 minutes to an hour or even longer chatting away. But this did lead to a brilliant conversation about "trouser socks". And I ask to you all, WHAT THE F%&* ARE TROUSER SOCKS?!?!?!?!? Why do you need to designate socks as to be worn only with "trousers"? Every time I hear the phrase trouser socks, I think trouser snake, and that is a COMPLETELY different thing.

As I typed this, she came back again. I have no reason why she is here. There is no work that she has brought down and none for her to take back up. She is just here to cluck away.

The thing that really gets me about this place is that the Circle of Life here still congregates to chirp away. Apparently we have decided to move on and discuss the odd hour that the hospital "holiday" party is starting (make sure you aren't offending anyone with your using the word "Christmas". PC bullshit). It seems to me that the prevailing thought is that 3pm is just not the right time to start the party. It should be earlier dammit!

I have more to say, but I need to escape for a moment and get away from the din of inanity.

Type at you later.

Welcome to the Middle of the Aftermath

First of all, for all of you who have been pining for my return, and that means both of you, I am in fact back. Odds are, this will be my last post until after Christmas, and the reason for that is the same reason that I haven't posted in 3 weeks or so. And that is that my jobs are kicking my ASS (insert Ian/Rodney noise here). I have been pulling 80 hour weeks since the beginning of the "holiday season", and to tell you the truth my brain has just been too damn tired to process any kind of coherent thoughts into any kind of entry. And how am I doing it now, you ask? Go ahead, ask. Thank you. Well, I actually am off the night job tonight and for some unknown reason have some semblance of mental acuity. So here we go.

I won't give you any boring details as far as Target goes. In fact, I am disappointed in just how uneventful the last month has been there. The only real excitement is that I stopped some woman from trying to do a "ticket switch". That means she pulled a barcode sticker off of an inexpensive item, in this case a $40 vacuum, and put it on a more expensive item, in this case a $500 vacuum. The suits liked that. But for the most part, people have been very cooperative with me and my need to do my job. Ho hum.

Dayside, it is officially the end of the Era of the Asian Mustard Lady. Feel free to sound whatever death knell you wish. However, in her place I have found a new muse. One that I do not deal with as directly, but still one worth monitoring and reporting on. Her name shall henceforth be known as Mother Hen. I mentioned her previously. She is the one trying to organize everything and randomly brings in treats. Yesterday, it was a cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. Yummy indeed, but sometimes I get the feeling that she is trying to fatten us all up in order to eat us, a la Hansel and Gretel. I have to keep an eye on that. Plus, she collects back scratchers and Elvis memorabilia. Hell of a combo. The Elvis stuff I can at least understand, after all Elvis was a bad ass in his day. But back scratchers? Her walls in her office (she is one of the few people in cubicle world to have real walls and a door) are covered with back scratchers hanging from push pins and nails. It's like she is a sadist, but not a mean one. I just see her conducting experiments on homeless people in the hours she is in the basement by herself (she keeps kinda weird hours), but it's hard to break someone's spirit with a Mickey Mouse Back Scratcher. I don't know.

Anyway, her current pet project is the aforementioned Secret Santa, and the offshoot of that, the Office Christmas Breakfast. Today she sent a spreadsheet to everyone so they could sign up. Maybe I am overreacting here, but it's a little too sterile that way. I am going to have to check under the bowl of oatmeal, Golden Child style.

One other thing before I wrap this up. This past Saturday, the wife and I had a party at our house. We figured it had been 5 months since we moved in, it was time to invite people over. Plus, she is in a play that ends this Sunday, but this way it was a holiday/cast party. The party went well. It seemed to be a pretty big hit. I am a little put off though, because it was my first "adult" rager. By that I mean, we had the drinking and carousing, just like my parties in college. There even wound up being a special smoking room, unbeknownst to me at the time. I went down to the basement at one point and realized that it smelled like Cheech and Chong were filming in the utility room. Oh well. No harm, no foul. And the cat we adopted (a story for another time - I will have to fill you in on the cat falling through the ceiling and breaking my nightstand that I have had since I was 12. It's a hoot. Maybe next Tuesday if I have the gumption) was much more relaxed around all the guests than we thought he would be. He just kept licking his paw and then staring at it. But with all of that, there were conversations abounding regarding people refinancing their homes and discussing techniques on what they do when their children are crying and blah blah blah. It was quite disconcerting to be sitting there and between shots of whiskey to talk about my plans for remodeling the house and the market value of the neighborhood as "the next Canton" (for you non locals, Canton is a neighborhood in Baltimore that was kind of run down, but over the last 10 years or so has experienced a renaissance and is now one of the most expensive, some would say overpriced, neighborhoods in town). And discussing this made me happy because all I could think about were rising property values and what that would mean if and when we sell the place. As I typed those last couple of sentences, I died a little. It is like the Barenaked Ladies said, "Old at being young, young at being old". That has become the description of my life.

All in all, this has been a pretty boring entry. Not nearly as funny as I would have hoped. Still, I am back, and I will do my best to post again before Christmas, or at least before New Years Day. And as always, I will try to do better next time. If I am lucky, someone at work will piss me off this week. That is always good for a chortle.

Maybe I will post pics from the wedding. Once I figure out how to post pictures that aren't saved to the hard drive.

I just had to share this

Honestly, if you haven't already done it, just click on the link directly above these words. I'll wait here patiently for you.

Okay, are you done wincing/giggling yet? Good.

Here is the beginning of a list of things I want:

1. Good news that doesn't involve car insurance.

2. To have a day when I wake up because my body is ready to, not because an pre-programmed artificial noise maker tells me it is time to.

3. To have at least one of those kind of days every week.

4. To find out that delivery pizza is actually a perfect food created by God that provides perfect nutritional balance for our lives.

5. To have my brilliance recognized by all.

6. To be brilliant at SOMETHING.

7. To discover that chocolate actually cures diabetes.

8. To find any cure for diabetes.

9. To find a way to make JabberJaws not speak for 15 minutes.

10. To play in the Super Bowl (not the halftime show).

I will probably come up with more, unless this becomes another "words that sound funny to me" kinda thing, in which case I apparently will NOT come up with any more. Besides, at least 4 of those were lame anyway. I just wanted to post the tasered genitals man link before it became commonly shared and it lost the power to shock people I send it too (pun pretty much unintended, but I like it, so as of this very second I am going to make it intentional).

The Scottish Gypsy Book Club

okay, there are only 2 books. But both should be in your personal library. As for the other 3 pics, well, farts are always funny, superheores are always at least a little bit of an exhibitionist (hence the parading around in tights), and Ivy and Harley speak for themselves. They make me wish I was animated, or that my wife would pick up some new outfits not sold at Old Navy, if you know what I mean (although the makeup on Harley might be a bit much. And I would probably rather see her in the Linda Carter era Wonder Woman outfit before the Poison Ivy one. Perhaps I have said too much).

More Crap I Haven't Covered Yet

The link is a fun quiz if you know anything about super heroes or cleaning agents. I only got two wrong, and both ones I got wrong could have easily been at least minor characters from He-Man. Oh well.

There is a lot of crap I haven't gotten to yet, and I wanted to do it now, so without further ado...

To all the people who waited outside all night for a new XBox system, and more specifically to the gang who was outside the Towson Target last night...YOU ARE ALL MORONS!!!!! The concept of camping out for something like a game or a movie is beyond me. I saw all the jackasses in line for the first Star Wars prequel lo those many years ago (when the hell was that again? 1999? I lose track. Anyway, I made about three calls and found a theatre not 2 miles from where I was living at the time, and got tickets the day of. ANYTHING that isn't a one moment in time experience is not worth sitting outside in (at least here in Baltimore) mid to upper 30's and rainy weather. If this was 1965 and the Stones were coming to town (arguably the height of their power and showmanship as a band), I could see sleeping on the corner. But for a damn video game (especially when in spring the PS3 is coming out, and it will blow XBox out of the damn water), it is just not a smart thing to do. And as far as the crew who at 12:15 this morning was sitting outside of the Target in Towson goes, well if nothing else it was one hell of an exercise in group psychology. I felt like I was actually witnessing The Lord of the lies circa 2005. I was waiting for the IPod to start being passed around like a conch shell so the holder could be recognized and speak to the group. I even picked out which one was Piggy (hint - it was the fat guy).

I picked up a container of chocolate milk from the cafeteria this morning to go with my morning coffee. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It was a half pint container, just like we used to get in school. Was that really enough for us to drink back then? I was holding the thing in my hand (and in fact I am looking at it right now. I kept it as inspiration for the post. I drank it first though, otherwise it would be yogurt or cheese by now, and that's just wrong), and I felt like Andre the Giant holding Cary Elwes' neck in Princess Bride. Anybody want a peanut?

Christmas is rapidly approaching, and it is time for the office Secret Santa parade. For about 3 weeks, everybody has to pretend they like each other so they can get something off the list of three choices for under $20 they turned in to the office planner. The person (usually a woman suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome) who wants to involve everybody in morale building activities. But you have to be nice to the person (even if the planned activity would be preferrable only to "Let's inject our corneas with Boric Acid and go to Rock and Bowl" this Friday), because she (let's face it, it's always a she. No use for PC lingo here) will bake cookies and bring bagels and generally feed you good momma cooked food when she gets that urge to coddle. And I ain't gonna mess that up. And because I am in limbo between two offices, I get to play Secret Santa twice. But that means TWO pot luck lunches, which means TWO afternoons of eating and generally carousing on company time. And THAT, my friends, is worth having to buy two different people the Regis Philben Christmas album (with bonus version of the Notre Dame theme song as done by the St. Margaret's Unitarian Handbell Choir for that special feeling of Feliz Navidad Irish Style!).

Asian is leaving the Batcave. I overheard that she is accepting a promotion and moving upstairs. Honestly, I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I truly do like her, and will miss having her as a neighbor. But on the other hand, no more mumbling and complaining, and no more righteous indignation for no reason that anyone can find. I can only hope my new neighbor (if and when I get one) will be as entertaining.

And in news that was annoying to me at least, I lost my cell phone this past weekend. I know the last place I had it, but that did me and my friends who looked for it while I was at work (big thanks to Pat, Tony and Greg for the futile assist) absolutely no good. So Sunday I had to get a new phone. I needed one anyway, the 1 and 4 on my phone worked randomly if at all, and the volume control on the side only worked to turn it down. To turn it back up required you to push hard enough to almost break your finger. But still, the whole thing was a pain in the buttocks.

That should just about cover it for now. If anything comes up before Thanksgiving I shall let all of you know. If not, well Happy Thanksgiving to you all, and go local footbal squadron (this way you can repeat the sentiments wherever you may be).

A mouse pissed in my shoe this morning

Yup. Tis true. I woke up and was getting ready for work, and was about to reach down to grab my shoe, and I saw a medium sized field mouse perched on the top of my shoe, right above the foot hole. I looked at it, and it wasn't moving at all. I kicked a box next to my shoe, no movement. I honestly thought it was dead, but I was still hesitant. Finally, my realization that I was already running late for work and was only getting later (the fact that I95 South was a damn parking lot all the way to he tunnels didn't help my tardiness one bit) made me reach down for my shoes, at which time he scampered into the shoe itself. I immediately covered that shoe with the other one, and roused my wife (who to her credit did not freak out at all, which I was expecting her to do from her response to mice. The fact that she took a perversely large amount of joy from the eventual outcome of Stuart Not-So-Little is a little worrisome though). She opened the door and lifted the lid to the toilet for me. Yes that is right, I sent the mouseto go turd surfing. I thought of throwing him out the back door (which is what I usually do with insects, except for bees), but honestly, Baltimore has such a problem with mice and rats that it didn't seem fair. And I couldn't just snap the things neck the way she waned to (another outcome my wife alluded to this morning. Specifically she said "Compared to what I would have done to it that was nothing" when I expressed remorse over flushing it down the john. It took 2 flushes by the way. That was the worst part. Watching it swim vainly upstream and beating the tidal wave the first time, its little paws trying to find purchase on the porcelain bowl, and hiting the lever the second time to watch it lose and float down the river of dreams that is the Baltimore City Sewer System). After all of this. I was about to put my shoe on (I took great pains to shake it out over the toilet, expecting to find droppings in at least one of my shoes, making me wonder how many times I have put on shoes w/mouse shit in them since we moved in almost 7 months ago), when I happened to look in it and saw the big wet spot. These are my only black shoes (I know, typical male. Bite me if you don't like it). I sprayed anti-bacterial disenfectant into them, but I am just not sure I can wear them again. I might have to get new ones on the way to work tonight. Dammit.

I need to leave work for work, but I gotta do this first

more funny pics. I feel better now, btw.

It is Friday you know. Maybe I will get lucky tonight. At least I might get some pizza delivered. If it arrives in under 45 minutes, I would count THAT as lucky.

Picture pages

I'll be honest. I am in a bit of a crappy mood today, and I am just waiting for the chance to get the hell out of work, NOT go to my night job (yay for scheduled days off!), and go home. Of course, I have a bunch of crap to do before the sweet embrace of sleep, but either way, I am going to relax. RELAX DAMMIT!!!!!!

I did just get a major project here at the good old hospital done, and so I am taking it easy today. So I am going to randomly post pictures I have saved on my computer here at work. They might be photos, or stuff pilfered from some of my favorite sites (namely Something Awful and Superdickery. They are linked over there on the right. Go there and enjoy yourself). Either way, enjoy the slices of my psyche.

And a special Shout-Out to Really This Weird who hipped me on the picture pasting, and whose blog (also linked to the right) is fast becoming required reading for those who can read. So Arkansas is out, but everybody else...DO IT!

REAL quick hit

I hve to post this, it is cracking me up. Asian and I got into a verbal disagreement on Monday. Details are kind of boring. Maybe I will post them later, maybe not. Either way, as a result of the disagreement, I stated I am not going to speak anymore, because whenever I do it comes back on me, and I am tired of games. I will be cordial, and speak when spoken to, and I will be polite. But I am not joking around any more, because it isn't worth the heartburn. Well, today she made a point of coming into the office and saying hello to people by name, omitting my name. It didn't bother me. The fact that it didn't bother me bothered her it seems. Now I keep seeing her in my peripheral vision staring at me, glowering almost. I feel like one of us is going to wind up challenging the other to meet in front of the swings after school. It is kind of pathetic. I learned within a couple weeks of working across the row of cubicles from her to ignore her running commentary. "I'm tired". "They hung up on me". Blah blah blah. Not said loud, just verbalized because she needs attention. I am pretty sure that I am the only one in the office who can hear her almost constant updates on her health and well being, as well as the goings on in her business (and WAY too often her personal life). I just turn my music on and drift away.

The hardest part of this whole excursion in inanity is not smiling/laughing when I catch her glaring at me, waiting for me to break, or whatever the hell it is she hopes to accomplish by staring at me while she talks on the phone.

I work in an office of 12 year olds (the two co-workers down here in the basement who are aware of the existence of this blog and have my permission to read it are of course exempt from the age limitation).

Jabberjaws has dentures

I have a lot of things that I want to cover, and unfortunately I do not have the time to delve into all of them. I plan on doing some posting this weekend, so hopefully I will be able to catch up. But I have to take a break from my data entry/drone-like existence and my whole wheat bagel (which I am letting absorb the butter I put on top. YUM) to tell you about my new, most favorite annoyance here in the office. In the interest of protecting myself and to give myself a semblance of a conscience as far as naming those who should be thinned from the herd out loud, I shall call this annoyance Blabs. Because THAT IS ALL SHE DOES. She talks and talks. I do not envy her husband, and I am sure that he spends an inordinate amount of time in the garage. I am not being mean when I say that. I know it is fact. SHE TOLD ME. She tells everybody EVERYTHING. For instance, I just found out that due to her allergies, she has to use unscented deoderant.

I haven't even had a chance to drink my morning coffee yet.

The thought of those lunch-lady arms and wrinkles with wrinkles and the shoulder harness that must be her undergarments and her raising her arm to use unscented Mitchum...I am feeling a little nauseous.

And she just keeps going. There isn't a moment of peace when she is here (thank whatever God you believe in for me that she only works part time). Now she is talking about the Salem Witch Trials and the history behind them and what the prevailing theory as to what started them (a girl had an epileptic seizure and a woman was accused. The rest of the girls faked it, setting the stage for all women and the words "faking it" for the rest of existence. But tell the truth, would you rather your woman fake an orgasm to make you feel better or fake demonic possession in order to have you burned at the stake?). My only problem is, why didn't she use her nurse training to diagnose the poor girl? Hell, I have no doubt she was actually there.

If this continues, I will be drinking "Grampa's special Coffee" by Thanksgiving. At least a pot a day.

Profiling White Males in the Name of Fighting Terrorists

Okay, I am a white male. I know I am responsible for all the misery perpetuated in the world for the last 5000 years or so, give or take a millenia. I am fine with that, really. So I cannot say I was surprised last week when I, while working my night job, asked to see someone's receipt because they had unbagged merchandise (it is store policy to do this, and since I have been there less than a month, I am uneasy with the thought of deciding what products are worthy of receipt checks like my more seasoned colleagues are wont to do), and was told I was stopping them because they were black. I have no doubt that there are places that do that sort of thing, and I don't take it personally. However, last night I hit a new low (or high, depending on your point of view). Then, about an hour later, I TOPPED IT.

I asked a couple to stop so I could check their unbagged merchandise against a receipt. I was asked by the husband if this was because he is white. I will give you a moment to let that sink in. Because. He. Is. White. Now maybe I am not up to snuff on my racial agendas, but 2 things bothered me about that. 1, if you stop a member of your race, how is that racism? Excuse my baseness, but that is the reason I have heard that it is okay for black people to use the word "nigger". It can't be racist for a black person to call another black person that. Or like George Carlin said, "No one is bothered when Eddie Murphy or Richard Pryor say nigger, because everybody knows they aren't racist. They're niggers!" So there is problem 1. Problem 2 (and this is the one that is still confusing me), is it possible to profile white males? I guess it is, but it doesn't seem correct. To the best of my knowledge, profiling is singling out a particular group of people for a particular reason. Unless white males are known for going to Target and stealing 50 gallon storage containers, I am not profiling. And since (in plain view of him as he approached the doors) I had a line of people I had stopped (including a black woman and an Asian woman), if I am guilty of profiling, it is only profiling ALL Target customers who buy things that don't fit in shopping bags. I must be the biggest asshole EVER.

After that I was planning on having the rest of the day go relatively easy. In my limited experience, there is one really crappy customer per shift, and I figured the one I had would definitely qualify. Boy was I wrong. A woman who was leaving with some items on the bottom of the cart, so I asked to see her receipt. After expressing SEVERE exasperation, she asked why I was harassing decent law abiding people. I should be out hunting down terrorists. Yup. Terrorists. I hate to break it to her (and it took an EXTREME amount of control on my part to not say this), but unless Bin Laden is over in Green World shopping for end tables, odds are I ain't gonna find him anytime soon. But if he tries to steal an IPod, I am SOOOO gonna bust his ass. For that I might even ignore company policy regarding Non-violent Crisis Intervention (NCI as the acronym happy Target management likes to use). I would probably have to beat the ever-luvin shit out of him first. So consider yourself warned Osama. If you are in Towson and need gthrow pillows that tastefully match your decor and are value priced so as to maximize your spending dollar, you better drag your ass to Wal-Mart, coz you ain't shopping at Target. Not On MY Watch!

Damn but I feel patriotic.

Condoms and Candy and Employee Discounts

I started working at Target last week. I am a security guard (like a rent-a-cop, but with an option to buy). As a Target employee, I get a discount when shopping there. Standard perk, but always nice to have. Well, Halloween is rapidly approaching and this is the first holiday my wife and I will celebrate as a couple (of course, I am working that night), and while Halloween isn't exactly a major holiday (hell even banks stay open, and they close for all kinds of holidays you have never heard of. If you can get a job with a bank or with the government, it's like getting 2 weeks extra off each year, just all spread out over 52 weeks. Still it's one hell of a sweet deal), it is something to note. Of more importance is that this is the first holiday in our new home, and since I was once a rambunctious tyke, I know that the neighborhood kids are going to decide who's homes and cars to vandalize for the next year based on what they get in their plastic pumpkin this coming Monday. In other words, don't be the asshole who gives out loose change, unless you are planning to give each kid at LEAST $2-3 in quarters. No dimes nickels or pennies. And no half dollars or silver dollars. Kids HATE those. All kids do. Don't ask why. If you are planning on giving out nickels, or even worse, 5 pennies taped together, expect all of them to be chipping the paint on your car and possibly breaking all of your windows before sunrise. It is a sad state of affairs, but it is true. So I need to get some quality candy. Snickers/Milky Way/M&M's, or Hersheys/Reeses/Mr. Goodbar. Something like that. A mixture of the two is okay, but you are better off picking one brand, so that the kids know what they are getting and can plan out trades with the other moochers accordingly. And since I get them at a discount, I know where I am getting my bribes from.

Also, since my wife and I are newlyweds, we want to wait at least a couple of years before we have kids, because once you have kids, you have no freedom. Everyone knows that, but it can't hurt to reinforce it. But since we both REALLY enjoy practicing making babies, we need some kind of way to keep one from pulling a "WHOOPSEE", and then it is Pampers City. Neither one of us is Catholic, so we wrap that rascal. And since I get an employee discount...

This leads to my first purchase (besides a soda during a break in orientation). Candy and condoms. As I was signing my check, I realized just how bad this looked. I can only hope that since I AM security, I can talk my boss out of contacting the proper authorities by explaining the situation. But even still, it is creepy, even to me.

One last shout out. A big "Thanks" to X-E Entertainment (the title link), for reminding me about the old ladies who used to think 5 pennies taped together was a treat. Even in the 70's that sucked. X-E is a great site, and the Halloween countdown should be required reading. You can spend a couple of days surfing through all the stuff on that site, and the nostalgia for the 80's warms my cynical little heart.

TYPE HARD! (sorry. That will be the last time. I promise. Talk to you all later).

TYPE HARD

My buddy Greg (more like a big brother than just a friend really) is not a big 'net guy. As such, when he finally looked at my blog the other day, he said it reminded him of Pump up the Volume . I had never thought of that, but it is absolutely true.

Also, the link above has nothing to do with the title. In fact, if I had thought about it I would have made the link to Pump up the Volume the link in the title, and made the link in the title just something I typed here. But dammit, I gotta be me! And the link of honor goes to Burger King (again). My fascination (which is bordering on obsession) with the King and his plastic face is reaching eic proportions. And the BK meals are reaching epic portions (HA!). It is a brilliant campaign and if General Zod winds up not running for president (ZOD FOR PRESIDENT 2008) , than I want the Burger King to be the ruler of the free world. A campaign of chicken fries and Meatnormous Omlettes would garner my vote (speaking of garner, I would also vote for James Garner in either a Presidential or vice-presidential ticket. In fact, if the King hires James Garner as his running mate, it might sway my vote from Zod).

I have another post to write, but it needs its own title, so I will go for now.

Welcome...TO THE RANDOM!!!

Random thoughts...
People who work for dental insurance companies based in Utah are all assholes and have the mental capacity of a squash. If we need a place to start thinning the herd in order to up the collective average of intelligence in our great nation, THAT should be the first place to go.

My lovely wife was wondering if I was talking about her in a previous post. She realized that I wasn't. I know she occasionally reads this, and I want her to know that I am about to talk about her. So here goes...I am a firm believer that snooze bars on alarm clocks were invented by Satan in order to help usher in the downfall of humanity and the onset of Armageddon. However, our addictive personality as a mass of humanity means that they are in all likelyhood here to stay, so I have to adapt to that. I use an alarm that has to be reset if I want to continue sleeping, and the annoyance of having to focus my thoughts enough to set the alarm, as well as having to squint because I don't wear contacts overnight and putting on glasses is akin to getting out of bed and shuffling off to the bathroom makes me get out of bed just because I don't want to deal with the damn thing. My wife (all of these thoughts feel like they should be in different paragraphs, but I am going to ignore my grammatical instinct for the moment) is a very sound sleeper. Sound enough that I have on more than one occasion held a mirror to her nose to make sure I wasn't a widower. She also likes to wake up approximately 6 hours before she has to, give or take a few hours (that is less of an exaggeration than you think). What is all of this leading to? Well, it means that every morning, for a good 30-45 minutes before I need to be rising from my rejuvanation ritual, I have to wake up to her alarm clock. Problem is, it won't wake her up half the time. And since I cannot Reed Richards' my arms over her to hit that damn snooze bar, I have to wake her up to tell her that her alarm is going off. At which point she rolls over, slaps the snooze bar and falls right back to sleep so that we can repeat the whole thing in 7 minutes. After the morning coffee has kicked in, its funny. At 5:38 AM, it's not. Luckily I gat my revenge each morning by getting to the bathroom first for my constitutional. THAT always wakes her up.

Speaking of the Armageddon, expect the world to end in about 12 months or so. Maybe a week or to either way. But unlike all the KoolAid swilling "I am the Messiah" spewing wackos out there, I am coming from a sense of reality. I am not claiming that God spoke to me or that I know who the Great Beast is. I AM saying that I know what the mark that we will be forced to wear is, and many are wearing it right now. Maybe even YOU. Sometime next year in late October or early November, the Cubs are going to win the World Series. Probably playing the Yankees. Or if you want a true feeling of terror, the Devil Rays. One is named after Satan, one is owned by him. So either one will fulfill the prophecy. A couple of years ago, when both the Red Sox and the Cubs were in the playoffs and it looked like an inevitable showdown, I thought that the end would come during Game 7 of their World Series. Game tied, bottom of the 9th, bases loaded, two outs, full count, he whole nine yards. It didn't matter which team was at bat. The pitched would throw a mighty fastball, which the hitter would connect with, driving the ball to straight center. The center fielder races back, prepared to make his leap. Does it have the distance? MILLIONS of people stand silent around the worls, watching to see what happens. Suddenly, a giant fiery hand reaches up and catches the ball, the center fielder, and the entire left field bleachers. Bing Bang Boom we have the Rapture. When both teams were less than one inning from making the World Series, I maxed out my credit card and planned to head to Vegas for one final week of debauchery. If I was gonna die, I was gonna go in style, with all you can eat prime rib for $10 and hookers that cost 20x that much (no, I wasn't married yet. We were dating, but I wasn't as sure of the outcome of the relationship at the time, plus, I figured her for a "stay w/her mom and be close until they are called" kinda girl. Now I can ride her coattails straight to Heaven. Yay for loopholes!). But when both were eliminated, I realized that it wouldn't be that simple. When the Red Sox won last year I thought we might be approaching cataclysm, but nothing happened. I figured maybe it was not that one (Cubs and Red Sox) would finally win one, but that BOTH had to win one for it to happen. So I waited patiently this year for the Cubs to break out and storm into the postseason and bring an end to humanity. If I had known they were going to do no such thing, I would have cut back on wedding expenses and just rented tuxes instead of going for the full kilt and accessories. Anyway, it was curious. That is when it hit me. There are 3 teams that need redemption before God can call us home.

At this time, I want to make it clear that while I am much more of a football fan than I am baseball, there are no tortured teams in the NFL. No teams with 80+ years of futility. So as much as I would rather watch football on the final day of existence, I will be tuned into the baseball game. With a room full of friends, and plenty of pizza, wings, chips and pretzels, and beer. Even my friends who have stopped drinking for whatever reason wil be joining in for a final toast. There are no 12 step programs in heaven (and in hell, you are forced to listen to Dr. Phil, so you will probably need the booze).

Anyway, I forgot about the White Sox! Satan is a sneaky bastard (I still won't eat apples. It's my way of keeping him at bay), and he knew that we would all think "CUBS AND RED SOX", and forget about the South Siders. Well BeezleBub, I am on to you. 365 days or so, and then it is Revelations time. If you want to refi w/an interest only loan and start spending the kids college funds, go for it. And fuck choloeserol. Have some sausage on your bacon. Fry that Thanksgiving turkey! Eggs and guacamole with EVERY meal! Ice Cream and whole milk. What's the worst that could happen, you miss living through hell, and instead watch it on God's 500ft widescreen digital plasma screen with the DLP technology and surround sound while eating anything you want and spending quality time with all the ones you loved, and all the ones you tried to love but got turned down (you have your Heaven, I have mine).

I have more, but I will get to it later.

Okay, I lied. No post after Oktoberfest. No post from work Monday. I hope all of you reading this self masturbation understand and forgive me.

Not too much to go into. I had some good post ideas yesterday, but couldn't get the time to log in and write 'em. I am enjoying the show that is Asian Mustard Lady (forevermore known here as Mustard. I was gonna call her ASL, but then it feels like I am trying to cyber with all of you every time I type it). She is having issues with other hospital employees causing her to have to repeat work she has already done. Also, she is getting the runaround from Blue Cross (which for those of you who don't know, is about as regular as a man in a Metamucil drinking contest). She is getting very frustuated, and as a result she keeps muting her phone to vent "under her breath" (but I can hear just fine), than goign back and starting over. I shant repeat the comments, but trust me when I say they are priceless. My favorite is **press hold button** "Sugar Honey Iced Tea! I did not say that to them! I would NEVER say that!" **take person off hold**, I'm sorry. Do you have documentation of that conversation? I think I would recall that...". The whole time I am watching her do a slow burn that would make Jack Benny proud (and if you don't know who that is, well that's just awful). I love using Sugar Honey Iced Tea as way of cussing without cussing. THAT makes it all worthwhile.

If you like comic books, or just really damn funny web pages, go to www.superdickery.com . I will soon be making that a permanent link, as it is THAT good of a site and it updates fairly regularly (as much as his job will allow. With options like "Superman is a Dick", and "Everything is Better With Monkeys", it will entertain for HOURS (longer if you use dial-up)

*****SPECIAL I AM A WHORE ANNOUNCEMENT*****

As soon as I get the logistics worked out, I will be opening my new CafePress store. Soon you can be as snarky as me, and in 100% pre-shrunk cotton! GET TO KNOW ME!!!!! (credit to Jon Lovitz)

This post has been the suck, I will strive to do better next time. Hopefully I will have something worth writing about. But with my life, you never know.

Have murder your way

The link is not the commercial I am about to refer to, but on the off chance you have no idea what I am talkling about when I reference the creepy Burger King, now you will be able to fathom the character.

Personally, I think the new Burger King ads are freaking hilarious. The giant headed King with a case of Perma-grin makes me laugh every time I see one of the spots. Until recently.

The latest commercial I have seen is for BK coffee, or "joe" as they are calling it. I DO like the fact that they are trying to bring back the nickname "joe" for coffee. I have always liked dime store novel terminology and would like to see more of it. Humphrey Bogart is due for an upturn in nostalgia and reverence. As long as they leave the song "Key Largo" out of the montage.

Anyway, the newest commercial starts with a construction worker on a high rise site, driving rivets into some framework. Once again, the face of the King peers around a girder, all grinning and happy. He hands the worker a large cup of coffee.

In BK's attempt to reach out more to the average man who wants more bang for the buck, they have 3 kinds of coffee...decaf, regular, and extra-strength. It goes alongf with the Ultimate Whopper and Meatnourmous Omlette (Which by the way is MIGHTY tasty). Extra strength coffee is a good idea, and I am surprised one of the big companies hasn't thought of it before.

But HERE is where it gets truly macabre. After the obligitory cut away to the "action shots" of coffee being brewed and poured into waiting cups, all hot and steamy and inviting, they cut back to the King and the construction worker standing on a girder, HIGH above the streets. and the King PUSHES THE CONSTRUCTION WORKER, WHO MOMENTARILY LOSES HIS BALANCE BEFORE RECOVERING. The King just attempted homicide! And the construction worker gives him a dirty look, then the King does that two handed point gesture, as if to say "GOTCHA", and the construction worker starts laughing! Either he is a moron or that is ONE DAMN GOOD CUP OF COFFEE! For me, I don't care how good the coffee is, I am not to fond of attempts on my life. I don't care how much of a cultural icon you were or are.

By the way, does anyone else remember when BK used the King back in the 70's and 80's? He would go to different chains and do magic shows? I used to have a collection of his (whatever they called Happy Meals in BK) toys. I LOVED the magic water jug.

I might be going to an Oktoberfest in a little while. If I do, I will have to come back with my drunken ramblings tonight. If not, well, who knows. Definitely no later than when I get bored at work on Monday.

If you click on enough things, something will eventually happen

But is it a good thing? I thought I had figured out how to make my pic seen on this thing. I followed some link and even downloaded some program onto my computer here at work (technically a no-no, but the firewall didn't stop it so screw 'em!). And now, instead of one photo floating in the e-ether, I have 7 or 8 of them that will end up on some German fetish site. DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I haven't slept since I woke up on Thursday at 6:30 in the morning. I have had 2 24 ounce cups of coffee and about a half gallon of diet green tea. The only reason I am still blinking right now is because my contacts would dry up if I didn't. Other than that it is completely unnecessary (that looks wrong, but I don't care right now). So maybe I am missing an obvious step here. But I will be damned if I know what it is.

I just had to change the water bottle for the basement dwellers. I call it "Post Femenist Role Playing". The exact quote was "Ron! We need a he-man over here!". That is code for "lift something heavy". I have no problem being typecast into roles, and I would much rather be the he-man than the guy who can't lift a 2 liter Coke w/out a spotter. That being said, it still kind of grates me that a lot of women fall into that "damsel needs help" role when it suits them and are Gloria Swanson with a shot of Ernest Hemmingway the rest of the time. And before I start getting flamed on this, I am not saying women are helpless and need a man's help. Genetically I can lift heavier things easier than the women down here can. There IS a reason the first part of my name id "Big". It is just the approach taken that irks me. But God forbid I pat them on the ass and give 'em a little wolf whistle when they saunter by. Then I am the bad guy...

And now a few more fun words...
Whoopee (only when you say it with conviction, otherwise ironic detachment ruins it)
Garbanzo
Bosom (sp?) (either the buddy or the boobies, to quote Martha Stewart, "It's a GOOD thing...)
Gazpacho
Boullibase (sp?)
really all foreign soups are fun to say. Egg Drop (a cross between funny and nasty), WonTon (say it out loud. Over ennunciate it. you will wind up giggling) Borschst (aww, you know I can't spell for crap by now, I'm tired of apologizing for it. You want proper grammar? Go read a dictionary and get off my back!). Borschst might not be a soup, but to the best of my knowledge it is very soup like and a main ingredient is beets. Is your mouth watering as much as mine is right now?

Happy Friday SUCKAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(ones on purpose. That always makes me giggle too. I am not right in the head.)

A change of pace

I have been rather negative, or at least snippy, in my last few posts. I intend to (for at least THIS post) be much more positive in my ranting. And to show the level of my sincerity, this post is entirely dedicated to words I think are fun to say. This may wind up being a few posts depending on my workload today. But no matter what, I am going to think positive here! So without further ado...
Jarlsburg
Rattattouille (sp?)
Contusion
Smock
Intravenous (sounds kinda dirty, don't it?)
Melanoma (sp?)
Guacamole
Asanine (Asinine? me no spell good now)

...more to come

Halloween Update

As I was typing my last post, I was approached by Asian Mustard Lover. She told me that he basement is doing "Willy Wonka and the (insert hospital name here) Factory. She didn't mention what part they wanted me for. Dental left me a voice mail yesterday after hours (they didn't want anyone hearing their idea. Now do you comprehend the depths of my pain?) saying they were doing "Annie" and if I shave my head I can be Daddy Warbucks. Let me make sure you caught that. If I Shave My Head I Can Be Daddy Warbucks. In the vain hope of winning a pizza party for the office (pizza made by the cafeteria. The cheap bastards won't even spring for Papa John's) worth $100 (oooh...ahhhhh), they want me to actually shave my head.

I can't wait to see what the hospital has planned for Rammadan.

Star Wars soundtrack in my office

First let me say that I am not a huge fan of science fiction. I watched Star Trek reruns with my father when I was a kid, and as such anything with that moniker has a place in my heart. And anyone in my general age group knows that Star Wars was not a movie, it was a cultural phenomenon (sp?), and as such I have the original trilogy pretty much memorized backwards and forward. That being said, I really wish for some kind of Cone of Silence (RIP Don Adams). All day long there are keyboards clacking, phones ringing, copiers and fax machines beeping and feeding paper (loudly), and since IT (the computer people, not the scary clown coming to kill us all) is on this floor, all of the extra bells and whistles from constantly seting up new computers and troubleshooting the old ones cascades down from the ceiling tiles like a cacophony of white noise drowning out my will to live. Or at least my will to work. And as the day goes on, little things start to give me my own Excedrin Headache #9. Like the lady who works in the cubicle across from me who, even though she has a wireless headset, constantly uses the speaker option on the phone. To dial AND to talk. And because of the inordinate amount of background noise, she has to almost yell to be heard. If it wasn't for the mandatory 5 day waiting period...

And then there is gossip. WARNING: EXTREME USE OF GENERALITIES AHEAD. My office is mainly women. There is a pocket of guys over in IT, but they stay to themselves and always travel in packs to avoid all possible human contact. It's like The Phantom of The Opera, only with a degree from Strayer. So in actuality, I am the only guy in the immediate area without a door I can shut when the hens start clucking. And boy do they cluck. They surf the 'net while on hold, and ANYTHING that catches their eye is immediately cannon fodder for a minimum of 30 minutes up to 2-3 hours of "Gurrll, did you hear about..." and "Oh my God listen to this..." and my personal favorite "Oh sh*#! Oh no he/she did NOT! No WAY!..." They will do this until SOMEONE asks them what has got them so riled up. Have you ever been in the store when a kid is trying to get his/her mother to buy them something so they just start saying "Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom..." until you are ready to either buy the damn kid the box of SpongeBob fruit snacks just so you can shove the entire box (not the contents of the box, but the actual box) in the kids mouth? Are you one of those parents that have a child that does that? How do you block it out? What zen mind technique allows you to block out that annoying sound? A little help here? Anyway, that kid's technique for getting the Frosted Cheerios is the same technique that is used here so that we can all learn that Britney Spears and her husband what's his name (the greasy wanna be pimp with the I'm 15 and can almost grow a beard looking facial hair) have hired his ex to be their nanny. Thank GOD I found that out now. It is so much more important than my call to Utah to line up insurance coverage for a special needs patient to have necessary surgery.

To give you an idea of just how banal my office conversation has become, I just sat through a 20 minute discussion on mustard. Yup, I said mustard. It turns out the lady across the aisle LOVES "that Asian mustard". From the other side of the cubicle wall comes "You know what I use? (no but I am about to know, ain't I?) I love that honey dijon kind in the squeeze bottle". Lather. Rinse. Repeat. This is a HOSPITAL! I am not so naive as to think that we work at St. Elsewhere or anything, but DAMN! Can't we at least throw in a few medical terms once in a while so we don't sound like complete morons? If we are going to have Tarantino on qualuudes (sp?) conversations all day, can we at least go full out and go Scrubs here? I want the residents to walk into swinging doors and for someone to sit on a needle full of novocaine so their butt goes numb, with hilarious results. THEN AND ONLY THEN can we have dissertations on mustard.

If you work in an office, especially a cubicle, and you haven't seen the movie Office Space yet, you are a fool. Do it right now. Leave work, go to Blockbuster, and rent it. Otherwise you will not appreciate the brilliance of this website http://www.bullshitjob.com/officespace/ .

More and more I am FOR drinking on the job.

I work in a hospital. One of the unseen masses in the basement collecting money from insurance companies, patients, and whenever necessary, guys named Rocko. To be more exact, I handle the billing and collections for the dental office. Why is any of this at ALL important? Well, it probably isn't. But I am going to tell you about the wheeling and dealing and backstabbing of a major hospital, all in the realm of Halloween and bragging rights.

Every year the hospital has a Halloween costume/department decoration contest. The dental department REALLY likes winning this contest. They like winning ALL hospital contests. It's like a really big spirit squad with needles and laughing gas. Well, apparently last year they didn't win the Halloween contest (I say apparently because I was not hear last year at Halloween. But they have been grumbling about it and planning their conquest of the 2005 crown since March. I am NOT exaggerating.

Now as I said, I work for the dental department, but I am not in the dental office. I am in fact in the business office. Now both offices are trying to claim me and use me in the Halloween Party/Costume Show (and before you ask, it is not a children's hospital. THAT would make WAY too much sense). You see, I am an actor/comedian who has a day job to pay the bills (and a night job to pay the rest of them). Both offices are severely lacking in people who majored in theatre in college. Both think they can use me to make an ass of myself and win the prize (which is something like lunch from the cafeteria, but "catered" in the conference room. Balogna is so much more elegant on silver-looking plastic trays).

There is one thing they are not thinking about though. I do not act like an ass without proper motivation. Even the slimmest chance it will further my career as a performer, no problem. Trying to entertain a bunch of rad techs and physical therapists so I can have a sit down lunch worth about $2.39 / person retail? Not so much. Someone from one of the offices will have to sweeten the pot, or I will pull a Switzerland and call myself neutral. And make chocolate and watches. And hide stolen property in my unnamed bank accounts.

Excepting that all my bank accounts are empty.

Lunch time politics

I work in a hospital. One of the unseen masses in the basement collecting money from insurance companies, patients, and whenever necessary, guys named Rocko. To be more exact, I handle the billing and collections for the dental office. Why is any of this at ALL important? Well, it probably isn't. But I am going to tell you about the wheeling and dealing and backstabbing of a major hospital, all in the realm of Halloween and bragging rights.

Every year the hospital has a Halloween costume/department decoration contest. The dental department REALLY likes winning this contest. They like winning ALL hospital contests. It's like a really big spirit squad with needles and laughing gas. Well, apparently last year they didn't win the Halloween contest (I say apparently because I was not hear last year at Halloween. But they have been grumbling about it and planning their conquest of the 2005 crown since March. I am NOT exaggerating.

Now as I said, I work for the dental department, but I am not in the dental office. I am in fact in the business office. Now both offices are trying to claim me and use me in the Halloween Party/Costume Show (and before you ask, it is not a children's hospital. THAT would make WAY too much sense). You see, I am an actor/comedian who has a day job to pay the bills (and a night job to pay the rest of them). Both offices are severely lacking in people who majored in theatre in college. Both think they can use me to make an ass of myself and win the prize (which is something like lunch from the cafeteria, but "catered" in the conference room. Balogna is so much more elegant on silver-looking plastic trays).

There is one thing they are not thinking about though. I do not act like an ass without proper motivation. Even the slimmest chance it will further my career as a performer, no problem. Trying to entertain a bunch of rad techs and physical therapists so I can have a sit down lunch worth about $2.39 / person retail? Not so much. Someone from one of the offices will have to sweeten the pot, or I will pull a Switzerland and call myself neutral. And make chocolate and watches. And hide stolen property in my unnamed bank accounts.

Excepting that all my bank accounts are empty.

Weekend Update

It is just past 10:30 am on Monday, and I really need to get to work, seeing as I AM at work right now. But I am tired and just not in the mood to crunch numbers right now. So I figured I would post again while the whole blog thing is still new and "exciting" to me.

Went to the friend's birthday party on Friday. Drove through Noah level flood waters to do it. It was okay. I know the birthday girl because she is my wife's friend, and so I knew very few people there. There was this very friendly older gentleman (bald head, glasses and hawaiian shirt. A look I cannot pull off no matte how hard I try). He found out I have friends from Maine, and within 30 seconds of conversation he offered me the opportunity to join him in his car for some non-tobacco smoking. I guess that is ONE way to make friends and influence people. I didn't know I came off as quite that herbal.

Saturday was the comedy show for the troupe I am in and ANOTHER friend's birthday party in a bar (personally I think my crowd is getting too old to be going to Federal Hill and bar-hopping until last call. I know I am too old and cranky to deal with a throng of 22 year olds singing along to Sweet Caroline. Off-key. You are 22 and have no way to have an appreciation of the genius that is Neil Diamond. Until you can have an honest debate between the merits of Cherry Cherry versus the need for a commercial success that spawned Turn on Your Heartlight, you should not be allowed to bellow "BUM-BUM-BUM" at the top of your lungs while spilling your Michelob Ultra on my shoes). Thank God Dave was there to talk to.

And how did the show go, I hear you asking? I am so glad you asked. It went pretty well overall. I would give the show a B-, myself a C+. It was the first show with the new cast members (at least some of them), and it was a little ragged. I would get into more in depth nalysis of the show and my performance in particular, but none of you give a shit about that. So unless you beg me (and as of right now I do not believe anybody has even noticed the existence of my little exercise in the egotistic thought that anybody would give two craps about my opinions and my life, so I don't think there will be any begging anytime soon), it ain't gonna happen.

Sunday brought the Raven's game. And at about the end of the 3rd quarter, a movie because I just couldn't watch anymore. I am in no way a fair weather fan. I still support my teams. I haven't abandoned the Orioles or the Cubs or Nebraska Football, and I am not going to abandon the Ravens. But even with that, what a HORRIBLE game! I can't even get into the debacle that was Ravens-Lions. So I won't.

All in all, I would have to say that this entry sucked. I will hopefully do better next time.

But I wouldn't count on it.

One final thought before I leave work for the day

As I have said previously, I am not overly versed in the ways of the interweb. What I know how to do I can do pretty well. Everything else might as well be written in Sanskrit. So when it says to post my photo go to "Settings" I go eagerly. One big problem though. It wants a web address for my picture. My picture isn't floating around the ether (well, as I said last post, it probably is. But I will be damned if I know where it has floated to or how to go and get it), it is on my harddrive. There is no URL for my hard drive (is there?). I am thankful that it is Friday, and it is my friend's (actually she is my wife's friend, but I like her well enough) birthday and there will be alcohol consumption in my immediate future. Everything is better with gin! Try it on your cornflakes. Trust me. Have I lied to you yet?

*Editor's note: Those I have lied to already are not allowed to respond to that question, as it would be really damaging to my already fragile psyche and I just don't think I can handle that right now.

Lost is not just a tv show

It is also how I feel as I wander through the electronic catacombs trying to make this thing look decent. All the templates show some guy's picture nest to his posts. How the hell do you do that? I clicked on the "Add Image", and then added said image. What I am not sure of is where the hell I added it to. For all I know, it is now being cropped and put on the walls of your local post office, finally covering that old pic of the Unabomber. Or it could be at this very moment the exact image needed for some guy with a fetish for the better left unmentioned to find a momentary completion in his life. I am afraid I will somehow end up on a Photoshop Phriday on www.somethingawful.com (which by the way is an AWESOME site for those who have not yet viewed it. And if you haven't, why the hell not?).

As I learn more, or am flamed by a bunch of 15 year olds who haven't seen natural light since the Clinton administration, I will hopefully make this place look at least marginally like someone who knows what they are doing is doing the posting. In the meantime, strap yourselves in and prepare to feel the cheese BABY!

I just wanted to post to someone else's blog

...and lo and behold I am now a blogger. Whoopee.

I have never liked the word "blog" or "blogger". It sounds like and insult British people use. And since I don't boil everything I eat, and I have at least a basic working knowledge of oral hygiene, I cannot be British (I am by heritage half Scottish, but that is for another time).

I suppose I will post more in the future. If this is anything like the journal I was forced to keep by my Humanities professor back in college (too many damn years ago to mention), odds are I will write about 25 entries sometime in mid-December and change the date to reflect 2 entries a week. We will have to see what happens next.