Tuesday, March 31, 2009

A blurb, a rant

running from the cops

twisted anus, fuck that hurts!

cold, dark death awaits


I'm in a bad mood. Fuck it.




So JJ calls me the other day wondering if I wouldn't mind loaning him some gas money so he could get to and from work until he can defeat enough crackheads in unarmed physical combat to attain enough money to sustain he vehicular lifestyle, and being in the same spot myself once or twice, I acquiesce. It is a little strange that he would ask me though, as I have to drive 30 miles each way to give him said monies, and I ask him why he did not ask any of the people who are closer to his geographical region. Apparently, Toboggan Boy is being stingy with his cash, understandable in this economic clime, Mystical can't get money out of the bank before Monday (?) as apparently her atm card does not work on weekends? Might have to do with that Mercury in Retrograde and her thinking the Trolls of Behegglenoth are going to attack her if she tries to use the ATM, whatever.


I ask if he had queried Smeagol for the money, since Smeagol owes him money for other things, and we laughed and laughed, and when he finally caught his breath he informed me that not only did Smeagol decline his request for funds, in the same sentence asked JJ if he would purchase his television, as he needed the money to make a payment on his new one from Rent a Center... great times.


So I go down to give him the cash, and everyone's there. I exchange pleasantries, and then go in my pocket to get the money, to which JJ frantically signals not to. Puzzled, I leave it alone until we are alone, and ask why.


"Don't ever give me money in front of Dad" he scolded me, "every time you give me money in front of him, as soon as you leave he follows me around the house asking how much you gave me, even if he SAW how much it was, then starts in with his 'boy I sure wish he would loan me some money, he's rich' shit, and then he won't leave me alone until I buy him a soda or a sandwich or something, it really pisses me off".... WTF?!


On to my rant for the day... I wasn't going to bring it up because it isn't that big of a deal, but shit this crap pisses me off something fierce.


Yesterday someone brought a personal item in for me to work on. Even though it is not my job and there is no way in hell I should have to do it much less be liable for anything that happens, I have to take the item and work on it, and I do. Short backstory: I have known about this for a week or so, and worked out a time with this person to work on this item a fucking week ago, and not only do they not bother coming by in the time I blocked out for them, they throw the item on my desk on my busiest day of the week. Whatever, I work on it and take it back.


Long story short, I screwed something up. While I still feel it's not my fault, I apologise profusely and try to see if there is a solution I can come up with to help out. I am told not to worry about it, it is not a huge deal, numerous times. Should be the end of the story, right? Wrong. Even though I prostrate myself for this person, apparently as soon as I walk away they email my boss telling him I screwed their shit up. WTF?! I get downstairs and get chewed out, which felt strangely good after such a long drought since my manager meetings, but the whole time I am sitting there nodding my head and not paying attention all I can think of is "how fucking old is this douchebag?" NOt my boss, the doucher upstairs. I mean, how is tattling on me behind my back going to get your 10 contacts back? What could you possibly hope to accomplish with calling my manager? Nothing, that's what. The sad thing is all this person reminded me of is the doucher attorneys at Da Firm: petty, childish, and morally bankrupt. It's so sad that apparently in order to make lots of money or hold high position the vast majority of people have to be complete douchers, and I am not saying everyone is but the majority of people who make leaps and bounds more than I do seem to be infected with douchebagitis, and that gives me a sad, sad feeling.


Anyway, one last thing, I am noticing that this "cardio" thing is having a drastic effect on my manbody, and me likey! While right now my man-tits sag like moldy ziploc bags filled with 3 week old mayonnaise, I can very clearly see what looks like muscle trying to come out from hiding behind said layer, like a hermit venturing into the sunlight after being walled up in a cave for a decade only to find himself in the middle of a vast city, full of robotic automatons hell bent on annihilation of the human race as nomadic tribes of planetary conquistadors pillage and rape their way across the barren landscape, charred by the onslaught of nuclear war and thermo-nuclear breakdown of all planetary defenses, both natural and man-made. Planetary economic systems crash as the rich get richer and the poor get fucked over and out as we face the very real possibility of a total nuclear holocaust with no way to escape the impending hurricane of radioactive death dust being blown across the arid oceanbeds, long evaporated due to global warming. Or something like that.


Anonymous said...

Hey. D-bag. How's this working out for you? When you told the story of working on somebody equipment, you know what I originally thought. You, with your grab my chest like you are attacking me. I'm sorry, in your mind you are not a D-bag because you ain't rich. And just in case you didn't know, this is the laziest man you know. Peace, Cap'n Kaboom.

Stevester said...

Yes sir, with your fruit puree and lack of knowledge of street slang, hey, let's have some GREENS and catch up!

Bill Wabbit said...

Fortunately the first comment made absolutely no sense, so I knew exactly who it was!