Pretty much every day, a “Kim” sends me an e-mail with the subject “Personal Invite.” It lands in the Junk folder, so it has already been judged. I could run with one of two connotations: the contents of this e-mail is equivalent to heroin, and once I indulge, I’ll be addicted in a big way. It will require countless interventions, abbreviated stays at rehab clinics – I’ll jump the wall like Kurt – and months away from e-mail to purge this seductive She-Temptress. Or, it could simply mean it is unworthy of reading, electronic trash that should be stabbed with one of those cane-picks and summarily flipped into a nearby receptacle. But this is a “personal” invite, and my sensual side wins out. God my libido burns.
I open it with an admixture of trepidation and excitement. And here’s what I read:
“hey whats up..i was wondering if you would like to chat?
i noticed that you live close to me. I have included my picyter for you.
If you like it hit me up on hookupspot!”
The “hey whats up” caught my attention. Jesus Christ, do I KNOW this chick? I’ve got to stop hitting the bars, getting soused and striking up random conversations with starlets. And apparently sharing my e-mail address. Did I write it on a napkin? On the back of her lovely, scented hand? Oh Lord, did she memorize it? If so, not your typical hussy. Perhaps there is brain function after all. I read on…
She wants to chat. Man, I anticipate the pain of conversation with Kim. I glance further down the epistle and see she has butchered the spelling of “picture.” This is not a word that one can be forgiven for misspelling. This most certainly means she has a dubious education and not that education equates to intelligence (I know someone who can neither spell or write in coherent, complete sentences and, no joke, this individual graduated from a university in Austin, Texas), but in most instances, we probably don’t have a ton in common and I will feel guilty because I’ll fight through the inanity of the dialogue just for the chance opportunity to squeeze her supple, full breasts (assuming again). But WAIT! Perhaps I’ve made an egotistical assumption – that she meant the word “picture” – and perhaps there is a term “picyter.” I scramble to open a new tab to check the dictionary, excitement renewed, fingers tingling as they stumble over each other – could she know a word I don’t know? Does her lexicon dwarf mine and now my conscience stings for judging wrongly perhaps my future mistress. (I’m married.)
Alas, my hopes are dashed and I have to accept the oh-so-common truth that Kim is a twit and her toothsome body will eventually belong to some exceptionally-hung troglodyte who can stimulate her brain with insightful references to Jersey Shore and Flip My Car, or some such cerebral programming. It opens fresh wounds, but one must endure.
With hopes doused and my will nearly spent, I say goodbye to Kim with a forlorn click to select and then another to delete. (But not before I take a good, long look at her picyter!!! Oh crap, what’s happening to my computer?)
Jesus Christ! I can’t believe it!!! It’s finally fuckin over! Fuck all the people on the 8th +1 floor in the tower (excluding a select few that is). On to bigger and better things.
I was a “D1″ at everything… “D1″…. what the fuck does that mean? Like anyone gives a shit…. I can’t believe those terms are used in a serious manner on that floor. lousy fuckers. Determining a learning development level and learning style means shit.
It was all so surreal…. 8 grand to learn how to draw and color…. with markers!!! ha. The fillet Mignon was delicious though…
Another 5 grand to learn how to use a program with catered barbecue…. ridiculous but delicious.
Free trips to chicago and vegas to not attend conferences and party instead… nice.
In case you haven’t noticed, I am “kastising” the management on that floor and I am not “erring on caution” because none of this makes me “nervous” So, let’s all have a “come to jesus meeting” to ensure we are on the same page because “at the end of the day”, it has to get done.
Further, I hope you “Got It” and I am not “Making this up” And I don’t have to call TB for every fucking decision that has to be made…. Jesus, I’m glad to be out of that place
By the way, you look stupid with short hair. When I complimented most of you, I was bullshitting. Y’all are ugly.
Peace out Fools!
So, I’m doing laundry and being that I’m starting kind of early, I’m watching the locals trickle in…
One girl has a swollen eye as if someone hit her or she went head first into her boyfriends fist… another girl (a huge one at that) came here with her parents to do her own laundry! I mean they’re sitting and watching the novella that’s playing.
I like to watch novellas… I have no idea what the fresas are saying but it must be good. I mean, I’m captivated just by the physical theatrics…
I hate fuckin work.
All day, I’ve been watching pawn stars… goddamn I hate rick’s laugh. Chumlee is the reason that show’s still in business!
New episode of American pickers… that show should seriously be named “let’s take advantage of American hoarders.
Goddamn I hate work.
So I’m sitting here anticipating… sitting next to my competition…. they double booked my time slot and volunteered to wait. He told me that he was unemployed and worked previously at a lumber yard… what the hell am I applying for???
Now, I’m sitting next to a girl going for the same thing… she’s fake…
I want to go home.
We got a dog… a boxer and Rottweiler mix… super cool. His name’s Ralph.
I slept most of the day. Work is the last thing on my mind. I’m hungry as hell… and I’m waiting for emails
I’m assiduously working as I write this. A friend came by and caught me misrepresenting a particular activity that can be performed on the Net and called me on it in front of a colleague and I am now thoroughly embarrassed and considering challenging him to a duel. Hey, if it was good enough for 18th century Russians and such, well it will do for me, too. The thing is, my second still lives in England and I would trust no other to handle my piece before the showdown. Another thing that doesn’t sit well with me is the timing of a duel. You have to get up way too damn early — predawn — to do the dirty deed. I am not one to wake up predawn for much, much less an activity whereby a gun must be aimed with unflagging accuracy and fired into the opponent’s brain or heart (you don’t want to just maim them). Damn it, I have to re-think this whole reaction to humiliation. Bastard!
NOTE: this was written during a span of about 2 weeks… so a lot of this means shit.
Weird. Last night there was a full moon and the children were having horrible dreams. I hear that a full moon and children are a terrible mix. I, on the other hand, slept like a baby…. Had the greatest and most restful sleep ever.
It’s weird, lately I’ve been having very vibrant dreams…. Almost euphoric but not like an acid flashback euphoric… Acid flashbacks are intense… These are more like real life… vibrant. Colors are extremely bright, situations are real but with different people and food tastes pretty damned good. It’s like a melatonin dream.
So, this past week I’ve interacted with no one. It’s been so ridiculously busy. I’ve been working on this one damned problem all week! Trying to figure out someone else’s methods and practices is ridiculously difficult. I now know what archaeologists struggle with only, I got no validation. No resolution. Man, the past 3 days down the shitter. I’ve been going home brain dead all week and have not a goddamned thing to show for it. Hell, it didn’t even make me a better person! As a matter of fact, It made me realize how much hatred and bitterness are real emotions and can be valid!… . (but not really).
My girlfriend has the habit of calling me out on everything…. EVERYTHING. She will hold me at my word… If I say something like… “This song is my favorite Bad Religion song” she’ll say, “But you said this other song was your favorite”. This is why I’ve thrown in the caveat of, telling her, 98% of what I say is bull shit.
So much to do today.
Again, So much to do today… I know there will be sarcasm as what I was able to accomplish this week will be seen as minimal but we’ll see how it goes. Lousy shit heads…
I rode my bike in today…. didn’t break a sweat. However, I am in need of some caffeine…. Actually a lot of caffeine…. Shit.
Now that’s a word I’m comfortable with, “gesture”. But nuance…I don’t know.
But I’m not so comfortable with the act anymore. One night I was driving back to my apartment with my convertible top down – and I intentionally mention this, not to call attention to this feature of my car but it plays a part – and impeding my path in the parking lot of the complex was one of those oversized trucks with the enormous wheels and the “I’ll-run-you-down-you-tiny-piece-of-shit” grills…you get the picture. Anyway, it’s 3 in the morning and he has his lights blazing and he’s parked in the middle of the lot and I decide to go to his left (my right) to get by him so I can get to my place and park and sleep off the buzz. So as I’m squeezing by him, I lift my right arm up and give him the quick wave of my hand – you know, the gesture that means everything is cool – and I get by and drive about 20 more yards, park and get out of my car.
Well, suddenly this truck’s tires are screeching and he’s reversing towards me like a bat out of hell (if you will). He slams on the brakes and jumps and and runs over to me full steam, cursing and flailing and homicidal (recognized it in his face and demeanor). I could probably take him, but I wouldn’t kill him of course and he now knows my car and where I live and if I whip him, he’s not the type to say “OK, fair fight, I lost. See ya.” I mean, even if I knock him out, when he awakes, there’s my car, and he’ll eventually figure out which apartment he can fire into to take me out.
So what was he so hostile about? He thought I flipped him off. Mistook my gesture for a pejorative one. (Psychologically, he probably subconsciously knew he was being an ass with his big truck nearly blocking the path between the cars in the lot and his lights on at 3 am and was mentally prepared to misinterpret any gesture. I could have picked my nose and he would have decided that was intended to insult him. My top was down, so he could see my arm completely – it’s not like it was obscured by seeing it through my window at a bad angle, him being so elevated above us peons.)
Another factor in this lunatic’s behavior was that he and his girlfriend (in the passenger seat) were having a fight. She was crying and the make-up was running down her face, etc. To conclude the story,not that you care, but I heard her call him by his name when she was asking him to calm down, so I called him by his name (more psychology – people feel more inclined to be personable when you call them by name) while I told him that I certainly did not flip him off, for that would be stupid, considering what kind of person he probably was based on his gigantic destroyer truck and his blatant disregard for other people, just plain stupid of me knowing that his type more than likely was trying to instigate something so he could blow off some steam on someone other than his girlfriend.
You’re right, I didn’t say that, I just kowtowed and firmly apologized (not weakly..like the animal he was, he would have sensed fear and attacked) for the misunderstanding. I somehow got him to calm down and we said goodnight (no kiss for me) and I got into my apartment and seriously considered never coming out again – his type are everywhere, man, just looking to explode. And then it struck me. The goddamned gesture. That’s what did it. Misinterpretation of a gesture.
So no more gesturing. (At 3 in the morning. I think it’s okay during daylight hours.)
I’m off now to do something meaningless.
Work is getting incredibly ridiculous. It’s making me consider a different industry entirely… I can’t believe some of the pricks that managed to climb the ladder by playing ball. I refuse. So, enough about that shit.
This site is new and i’m incredibly excited about it. However, being that we are trying to be somewhat low-key and somewhat anonymous, How the hell do we get readers? How do we get the good ol’ buzz goin’? I’m certainly not gonna be one of those guys that says, “hey guys, marthadumptruck.com is too cool for school!” I guess we’ll see how that goes.
Man, i hate work.
So, about a year ago, i really got into buying url’s. i was buying url’s that were names of people i know… out of spite. i ended up deleting those as i found out that it’s illegal to do that. What’s funny is that people’s url’s that i was buying had no idea… I wanted them to discover that i owned them in the cyber world. too bad… they’ll never know. i do, however, own some really cool ones.
well, i guess that’s it.
sonuvabitch.
So, this a new site. I guess that’s it…
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