Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Usted es a veces el insecto, baby.

Today reminded me of a joke I used to tell a lot...

What's the last thing that goes through a fly's mind when he hits the windshield?

His ass.

I'm also inspired to quote the great Dire Straits song "The Bug"

well it's a strange old game - you learn it slow
one step forward and it's back to go
you're standing on the throttle
you're standing on the breaks
in the groove 'til you make a mistake

(chorus)
sometimes you're the windshield
sometimes you're the bug
sometimes it all comes together baby
sometimes you're a fool in love
sometimes you're the louisville slugger
sometimes you're the ball
sometimes it all comes together baby
sometimes you're going to lose it all

you gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
because you're gonna know lonely
and you're gonna know bad
when you're rippin' and a ridin'
and you're coming on strong
you start slippin' and slidin'
and it all goes wrong because

(chorus)

one day you got the glory
one day you got none
one day you're a diamond
and then you're a stone
everything can change
in the blink of an eye
so let the good times roll
before we say goodbye, because

(chorus)


Today I'm gonna do the Top Ten Things You'd Never Want To See At Your Own Funeral:

10. A kiosk full of AOL disks. (They're everywhere!!!)

9. Pews with high speed internet access ports. (Just let it go...)

8. A one man protest group. (I want a crowd, dammit!)

7. Casket paid for by product placement. (It worked for Dale Earnhard) (I think I just earned my crowd...)

6. A bouncer enforcing a two dollar cover charge. (Instead, have a three drink minimum!)

5. Any member of Menudo. (New, old, they're all icky.)

4. IRS agents and a state trooper. (Haven't you guys got enough???)

3. Political figures I voted for. (You've disappointed me enough, go away.)

2. Religious people that normally mug you at the airport. (I'm dead, no saving me now.)

and the number one thing you'd never want to see at your own funeral:

1. Three words... Schlitz Malt Liquor! (Don't forget to spill some for me homies!)

I'm outtie! Peace!

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Wowzers!

I'm announcing, right here and now, that this is the ring that I want for my fiancée and me. Somehow I'll be able to get it for us. Isn't it beautiful?

Monday, June 28, 2004

Blah, blah, blog...

It's been a very long weekend... starting with meeting my fiancée at the hospital on Wednesday, staying there until four in the morning to find out she's got a kidney stone, missing work on Thursday, disappointing the kids and cancelling our Disneyland trip on Friday, working on my father's computer on Saturday and spending Sunday depressed out of my skull but working up a nice anxiety attack and a huge case of "dumping syndrome" anyway.

It's my life and right now I'm at work wishing that I had a bottle of whiskey waiting at home.

Instead, I'm blessed to be able to return home to my three girls and I have to remind myself that they're the most important things in my life.

So, in order to escape without the alcohol it's time to come up with...

The Top Ten Reasons Estrogen Is Better Than Alcohol.

10. It kicks your ass and KEEPS ON KICKING!

9. No jury ever acquitted because of an "alcohol defense."

8. I only feel embarassed at the checkout stand once a month. (think about it)

7. Brawling, cursing, fits of uncontrollable rage, loud music... once a month it's a party!

6. I love you, get away from me, I love you, get away from me... schizophrenia with no cover charge.

5. I'm starting to think the cats are the only ones that actually listen to me.

4. I can't fight off the desire to drink with chocolate.

3. God is a marketing genius because men fall for the packaging every time!

2. Hey, no one ever heard of the bottle behind the man, did they?

and the number one reason that estrogen is better than alcohol is:

1. There are far fewer people attending support groups to get over it.

We do get over it, don't we? Hello? Hello?

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

What the...?

Okay, so today's listing is all about an educational institution I need to gripe about.

I won't name any names but it's an online university that comes from the capital of Arizona. Wink, wink, nudge nudge. I can't say who it is because they are the BIGGEST client for the company I work for. Who am I kidding? They'd be ANYONE's biggest client that deals with education. The organization, as a whole, appears to be reputable and offers a lot of service to their students/clients/customers... whatever. The material they are studying is valid, granted. But when I find out that they're demanding that we take course material that we designed for a twenty to twenty-two week course at a "regular" higher learning facility and cram it into one of their five week courses I cringe. When I learn that they want their students to accelerate through the curriculum by allowing them to complete topics by answering one question correctly instead of five I'm aghast. When I get calls from these very students and they don't have the basic computer skills of a five year old child with severe learning disabilities I get very upset. Upset, hell, I'm pissed. These neophytes are getting a sub-level education, paying way too much and waving their pseudo-diplomas around like they've really accomplished something. I've got news for these knuckleheads. I've met people that got one of their "certified graduate" certificates and I've met people with bona fide diplomas in the exact same subjects. My money's on the ones that went to accredited higher learning facilities. Sure, it took them five times as long, they had to put up with underpaid, overworked professors who may not actually have "real world" experience in their chosen fields, but they seem to have a brain, common sense and the ability to avoid pissing on their own shoes. The business class students I've talked to from some schools are sometimes pushy but rarely outright rude. The students from the online circus tend to be so rude their ego needs it's own freakin' atmosphere.

Well, I could go on, and I will eventually, but it's my lunch hour and I should probably actually eat something.

One of their "diplomas" is currently being used as a trivot on my desk.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Let's contemplate our navel...

No, the one on the orange. Get your fingers outta there, you weirdo!

I'm still on this spam rampage. These people are a menace. Honestly. I'm just glad that they're only wasting a few electrons and people's time. The rate at which they'd be killing trees before the advent of the internet is staggering. So, in order to get it out of my system, off my chest and into your lives I've decided I need to dedicate a top ten to them.

The Top Ten Responses To Spam:

10. Thank you for informing me of my penile inadequacy, but I'm a woman.

9. Please file my application for dating services under "lonely inmates with a photographic memory."

8. If your pharmacy needs any new suppliers I can hook you up with my cousin Fernando in Colombia.

7. Please send all copies of your software titles to the address of your local FBI office listed below.

6. My gawd!! That's the best rate ever! And you can finance people with no job, bad credit and a list of fraud charges a mile long, right?

5. Um, I love you, too... Who are you?

4. Mail System Error, huh? That's okay, I'll send it via carrier rhino, next time.

3. Thank you. You've just sent your webcam invitation to a lonely, violent sex offender with no impulse control.

2. Please send me more information on how to get rid of you.

and the number one response to spam:

1. I would like to say thank you by ordering a round of laxatives for your entire organization.

Monday, June 21, 2004

My house and home...

Sitting here, at a laptop I didn't buy, on a table I didn't choose, drinking diet Dr. Pepper from a glass that I did buy... at a dollar store. This is my life. I work a nine hour day and have to be on the freeway for three and a half hours to do it. I get up at six o'clock in the morning and leave for work by seven-thirty to get home at eight and be in bed, hopefully, by eleven. Just to do it all over again...

Why?

Because this is my house (okay, apartment and it's a rental) and it's my home. I live here. The woman that lived here first invited me into her life and does things for me every day to prove to me that she loves me. The kids actually tell me they love me and they mean it. Teenagers don't tell anybody they love them unless they want something. I should know, I was a teenaqer, once, briefly... a lifetime ago.

My home, my family, my life. I accept it, I work for it and I need to appreciate it for what it is. A blessing. So tonight I'm grateful. I'm loved. I'm safe. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. My bed. That's all I need.

It just occured to me...

I can use this blog to gripe about anything I want. I finally have a way to bitch about all the spam I get at home and, more especially, at work! I'm not joking, here. I have to filter THOUSANDS of junk e-mail every single day. After a normal weekend my filters caught eight thousand out of ten thousand junk e-mails. But I spent the first two hours of my day just going through the rest.

I'm telling the world at large, right now...

I don't want to gain three inches, it'll ruin my whole wardrobe.
I've no interest in lasting thirty-six hours, that would kill my fiancee.
I don't want to sign up for a dating service for horny housewives, they need marriage counseling instead.
I don't need every e-mail address in the world on one CD, I can barely keep track of my address book as it is.
I don't believe that an internet millionaire wants to share his secrets with me.
I don't believe that I can't share in the inheritance from the death of an African royal.
I'm aware that my computer may contain a virus, website information, cookies and various pastries, as well. Your product isn't needed to delete it. I know how to clear my cache, site history and use my freakin' delete key.
I don't believe I sent you an application for a damn mortgage.
No one told you that I'd be fun to talk to and should check out your pics.
I've no interest in the key to four hundred porn sites... hell, I don't even want one.
I don't want/need prescription medication for impotence, hair loss (okay, I may need that one) or pain from an offshore pharmacy that has the lowest prices.
I don't want to learn how to stop annoying e-mails from the people sending them to me.
I can't read Chinese, Korean or Russian and the German I know tells me that the guys sending all the e-mails about German tourists being murdered needs to start his own online zine and leave the rest of the news to the professionals because I don't want it in my damned inbox.
I invest poorly enough on my own (I own several shares of an investment company that I worked for) and I don't need advice from random e-mails.
No, I'm not fat anymore, but you calling me that wouldn't entice me to buy your stinking pills.
My fiancee has not informed me that she'll leave me if I don't buy your product that will magically make me a legendary love god... you lied to me and that makes me very angry. Go away.
Your software prices aren't the cheapest and I don't want to pay to have illegal pirated copies shipped from India, Korea or anywhere else overseas, thanks.
I haven't even financed the first time so I don't need to refinance, besides I get enough crap about my lousy credit from people I trust.

My final observation...

If you don't know how to spell I'M NOT BUYING ANYTHING FROM YOU!

Have a great Monday, everybody, and keep smiling!

Sunday, June 20, 2004

My own Father's Day...

Today was a good day. I got nothing done and I enjoyed every minute of it.

My gorgeous fiancee woke me up at five o'clock this morning for a brief but very intense discussion... yeah, that's it. Then, a couple of hours later, her beautiful face was next to the bed and directly behind her the two sweet faces of her daughters. Well, our daughters. Very soon I'll be marrying into this wonderful little family and I'm adopting the girls as my own. For so many years I've been a father without my children, but now I have found a woman who wants me, needs me and loves me as much as I love her. Along with her come two incredible kids who want me, need me and love me as much as I love them. What else am I going to do but love them for the rest of my life. This year's Father's Day was the sweetest I've ever had. I hope they are all this good. The eight year old made a simple card from printer paper and crayons. It was a masterpiece. The thirteen year old made me breakfast. Because of my gastric bypass surgery I just can't eat much at one sitting. It was simply a handful of whole wheat wafers with cream cheese and half an avocado with a strong cup of coffee. Perfect.

Of course, after a sumptuous meal what's better than a mid-morning snooze. I slept until eleven, when my fiancee came back into our bedroom and we took up the same topic we were discussing early that morning. Bliss.

We then went to the store where I attempted to purchase all the things we needed to prepare a large meal for both of my parents, my mother's birthday was last week. Well, it cost more money than I expected and took longer to prepare than I wanted to spend but it was a better than average meal that everyone enjoyed. Joy

Today's top ten is all about being a Dad.

The Top Ten Things Dad's Get Out of Father's Day:

10. This card is made from 100% recycled paper... and so is your tie.

9. Happy Father's Day... Can I borrow the car?

8. Sorry Dad, I didn't know that you were allergic to shellfish.

7. Honey, are you going to actually sleep all day?

6. It's perfectly normal for a grown man to cry.

5. It tastes great, (hack) honest. No, (cough) really, there's just (gag) enough pepper, sweetie. (sneeze)

4. We even got the dog to sign your card... that's what that smell is.

3. A little turpentine, a claw hammer, some chlorine bleach and a hasp should take that right out.

2. We didn't know what your first name was so we had it engraved "Dude."

and the number one thing Dad's get out of Father's Day:

1. Baby, I'm all gift wrapped... wanna open your present?

Friday, June 18, 2004

Top Ten for the weekend.

This is a regular thing for me. Whenever I think of something I start breaking it down into categories and sub-groups. Out of that is born a natural need to turn my twisted sense of humor into a list. Call it an Obsessive Compulsive Bi-Polar thing. Call it stupid. Call it Milo... I don't care. But it's my special thing and I'm going to run with it. Today's top ten is inspired by the fact that it's Friday and I've got a whole weekend of nothing important to do.

Top Ten things this dork can waste an entire weekend with:

10. You're reading it...

9. Lord of the Rings trilogy - extended edition (the kids will do Golem for a week)

8. I must resist the power of eBay!

7. Wi-Fi, baby.

6. No credit card required. (if you know what this means seek help)

5. So many deals at Fry's, so little money. sigh...

4. Where the hell are my pants???

3. I have a digital camera, half a tank of gas and it's summer in Southern CA... hmm.

2. I wonder how my Sims characters are doing.

and the number one thing this dorky dork can waste an entire weekend with:

1. Where the hell are your pants???

I'm going home. I'm sure I'll have more from the "apartment of doom."

Let the bitching begin!!!

Most of the blogs that I read are just one more way for people to complain. This one isn't going to be any different. However, I tend to register my complaints from the twisted viewpoint of someone with a deep-seated need to point at the rest of the world and laugh. Otherwise I may start listening to the voices in my head and no one wants that. I feel the need to customize my new toy. More later.