Monday, July 31, 2006


12 and holding....


I’m now 39.

Why is it that I don’t `feel 39? I can remember when I was a little kid and I asked my Mom how old I was going to be in the year 2000 and she replied “The same age I am now, 33” And I was all concerned because that seemed really fucking old! now it is 30 years ago ( I was never any good at math SHUT UP). I can still remember most of my child hood as if it were last week.

I think that is why old people always talk about the past so much it is because they remember everything so vividly.

Here is something that I think everyone should do at least once in their life, go back to your middle school, or Junior high, what ever you attended. Just go back to the building and walk through it. I did this when I was coaching a little league football team 10 years ago and it was amazing.

As soon as I hit the doors of the school I was hit full in the face with that industrial cleaner/pink shit they clean up puke with smell and I was 11 years old again. I took a walk around the school and the memories were crashing in on me so strongly that I was brought to the brink of tears. I didn’t cry because that would be a girl thing to do but I did get emotional.

FUCK OFF! I’m sensitive okay!

But as I walked the hallways I could remember every detail of the years 1980-1982. I remember the hostage crisis and the first Regan election, the Olympics, my first fist fight, my second fist fight, punching some kid in the head who was picking on my older brother,(he stopped after that, I don’t know if my older brother knows any of this, but ”T” if you’re reading this I was the reason David Farris quit picking on you.) I can remember getting sent to the principals office for breaking and entering, using my library card, the crushes on girls that were so strong it made my chest hurt, and I couldn’t breathe, the teachers who were more like friends even to this day, the teacher who kicked me out of his class when I asked if JFK had an open casket funeral (I was really into the details, he thought I was just a smart ass, I think he was right, well 50-50, maybe 60-40) I remembered so much walking those hallways it caused a window in my mind to open back up and relive a time that was innocent, and free.

Everyone needs to get that smell back into their noses, and have the past reopened for them.

I’m 39, and I can’t wait to see what the next year brings to my cache of memories.

Friday, July 28, 2006


Best Birthday Present ever!

Yesterday after work when I got home I was greeted with a very cool package from my mom.

My birthday is Sunday and I thought it was going to be a cool card and the typical drinking money. I WAS WRONG THERE WAS NO MONEY!

However in lieu of money I got something even cooler…probably the coolest present I think I have ever received.

Have you ever seen a picture of a race horse with like 75 people gathered around it in the winners circle?

I am now one of those people.

Mom bought me part of a horse for my birthday!

So if you like horse racing please cheer on “TistheMan” so I can pay the hay bill!

I am so excited I can’t hardly sit still!

I could end up at the derby in the owners boxes (again, I was there with Bouby and my Mom when she had a owners box for the same reason), but even cooler this colt has potential (or so I’m told) and I like to day dream, so when my pony wins the triple crown I will be there to see it!!

Keep your fingers crossed!

Thursday, July 27, 2006


trials and tribulations of being Canadian in the USA's Immagration system

As promised, here is "liz" with her tales of woe when dealing with the Immagration services....

It’s No Fun Being an Illegal Alien

Before anyone gets all excited about my Texas comment, I should say that rage makes people say crazy things. I am not Marge Schott here but I truly have a legitimate bitch about anyone from any country that gets into the U.S. illegally. Don’t think that I am not sympathetic to the plight of illegal aliens who work their entire lives in the U.S., I am. And I do feel sorry that there is no big blanket solution that will solve that issue but it’s like Matt Damon’s character says in Dead Poet’s Society “No matter how much you stretch it, it’s never enough.”

I really have a problem with people that employ illegal’s saying they will be “devastated” by the loss of immigrant workers. If employers actually had to pay the fees, fill out the forms and get a Visa for every worker, they might think twice about bitching. I would like to invite that guy who picks up 50 day laborers to pay $1,000 for each person, get medical exams for them and then list every single visit each of them has ever made to the United States since birth. I understand about “jobs that no one else wants to do” but I cannot feel sorry for people who justify paying someone less than a livable wage so they can cut costs. I bust my ass everyday and I still have to choose between eating and paying my electric bill.

You would think that once the ball was rolling that some things would be easier, but no. Since we are already married, border crossings are a totally new kind of Hell. For some reason it’s not enough that we are “in the process” of his immigration. And I can assure you that no one in this country knows less about the immigration process that people working at the border. Then there is the laundry list of items that we must be certain not to carry into the country. On various trips, we have been asked about: plants, guns, drugs, knives, needles, pharmaceutical supplies, citrus fruit, live chickens, dog food, beef and beef products, monkeys and snakes. Apparently, there were strippers attempting to cross with monkeys and snakes so every car had to be searched. Truly that was not the time to make the “once I made a raft out of dead monkeys” joke.

I have spent considerable time, effort and cash to get my husband into the country. We have filled out paperwork that could stretch for miles and answered some of the most inane questions imaginable. Soon we might just begin to shit red tape. It’s worth every single penny to me because I want to wake up next to the man I love. So, it burns a hole right through my skull when people talk about degradation and persecution. Some jackass with a picket sign is going to tell me about the rights of the people.

Yoo-hoo! I am the fucking people. I vote and I pay taxes so that gives me some rights in this place. I have had history and government shoved down my gullet since Kindergarten and I was always led to believe that America was this wonderful open place where people came to be free. I must have missed the class when they changed the part on the Statue of Liberty from “give me your tired…” to “fill out this form, pay this fee.” If I could re-create the entire immigration process, it would be like that scene from Planes, Trains and Automobiles where Steve Martin tries to rent the car. After an angry, frustrating, heart wrenching, obscenity-filled tirade Edie McClurg flatly tells him “You’re fucked.”

Is the melting pot is so full at this point that we have to make it next to impossible for worthy people to get in? It’s not as if my husband is the real-life equivalent of a Deliverance hillbilly. He speaks 5 languages, has more degrees than the weather report, and has an extensive professional background. Yet, somehow it is necessary to prove he is worthy to live with his American wife. The whole process is not only tedious and lengthy but also demeaning and depressing. You have to be able to document every breath you have taken since you were shot from the womb and put a date to every time you wiped your ass or blew your nose. Maybe if he were a rock star or a pro athlete it would be easier.

Or, better yet, if he had huge fake tits, fake lips, fucked Tommy Lee, married Kid Rock and had hepatitis they would let him become a citizen.

So there you have it. And since I'm a thief ( I stole this from Clarity) and a attention whore, here is a map of all the states I have been to...ENJOY!

create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourCalifornia travel guide

Wednesday, July 26, 2006


Government Bullshit at it's finest....

"Liz": Write about how ridiculous it is that people can jump a fence in Texas and live illegally in the US for years but legitimate people with real jobs that marry Canadians can't get their husband into the country without two years worth of paperwork, a lawyer, and $10,000.
Me: $10,000?

"Liz": We paid $385 for the original app, then $75 to tell them how much money I make, then $185 for the Visa app and another $100 after the interview for a Visa issuance fee...not to mention the $300-500 we will spend to stay in Montreal while they process his crap
Me: Fuck, that is worse than Clarity’s ordeal.

This conversation started when I asked my friend "Liz" what I should write about since I have nothing exciting going on in my life. Then I told her to just type the whole story and I’d post it here, because it is a long and horrible tale of woe. So tomorrow, expect a ghost writer and you’ll learn all about the harrowing ordeals of marrying a Canuck. I mean besides the obvious!

I’m teasing "Liz", you know I love your hubby!

Sunday, July 23, 2006


I just love my Saturdays

Saturday morning 6:00 am.

I have been up for almost an hour, I have a big day planned. Bouby needs to register her car and I am helping a friend get a pick up load of dirt for he and his wife’s flower garden. I also need to keep cleaning the garage and rec room to be so I can start working out more often, and so I will know where all of my tools are.

6:30 am

I hear water running, “wow Bouby is up early”

7:00 am

“Holy Crap it has been a ½ an hour, she must have went back to bed.”

7:30 am

I need a drink and to water the dogs. Strange, there is no water coming out of the tap. I panic. Maybe the water running I heard an hour ago was a pipe breaking. I wake up Bouby…”Honey, we have a problem” I show her the empty taps in the master bath. She is immediately awake.

“Did you check the pipes downstairs?” Not yet I reply.

7:35 am

No pipes are leaking in the basement. “Maybe the meter is broken like it did in 2003” We walk outside and check the yard. Our street is soaked, but there is no fountain in our yard.

7:45 am

Neighbor Bob comes out and says” wow when you water your lawn you really water your lawn!!” We are confused. He goes on to inform me that he was up at 4:30 and we had a flood pouring out of the end of our driveway. The water main had broken.

Under our driveway.

8:30 am City shows up with back hoe and three trucks. The rest in pictures.

We had to move our cars to a neighbors yard! Thanks "Bob"!

The Back Hoe

The Dumptruck

Starting the saw.

The Back Hoe breaking our driveway into manageable chunks.

The hole under our driveway that was blasted by the water main breaking straight down, was almost 20 feet deep. It looked like a well. The little feller you see up to his neck and beyond, told the rest of the workers that he needed to get a truck of rock in there before he worked on the pipe, because if he fell into the hole he was GONE! (he was only 5’5” or so, and yeah he would have been lost to the world down under.

So needless to say we didn't get a whole lot done on Saturday. But we did make up for it on Sunday when we Cleaned the entire fucking garage.

Sorry for a glimpse into the mundane everyday crap of my life, but hey we can't be all angry all the time, we would spontaneously combust.

Friday, July 21, 2006


A new brand of hate identified

Yesterday I was having a conversation with some people I work with and we were listening to the radio and in the middle of the song one of them turned the station.

Now I’m not a channel flipper, nor am I an audiophile, hell my truck only has a hole where the radio used to be. I don’t understand channel flipping. I respect channel flipping, and I would never get angry at a channel flipper, but I liken it to someone who won’t eat certain foods.

I eat all foods, I’m not fond of some things but placed in front of me I will generally eat it because “Hey maybe the last time it wasn’t the foods fault, maybe it is just the cooks fault”

But back to my discussion with the co-workers. They are adamant audiophiles, and one of them doesn’t listen to any radio stations. “If it isn’t indie rock it isn’t worth listening to”. I like to give her shit because those indie rock guys would give their left nut to be as main stream as..oh say…the Rolling Stones. 300 bucks a ticket? Getting their bills paid by an accountant instead of UPS or what ever day job they happen to have at the moment, they would totally sell out just to BE on the RADIO!

So I bring up the fact that I don’t understand channel flipping, and it isn’t that I don’t respect the people doing it, because hey, that is why there are two knobs on the radio, and they tell me that there are certain songs, or bands that they HATE! Nay, LOATHE and that their lives will be worse off if they wait the 2-3 minutes for the next song and they have to flip the channel.

This is a new definition for me.

Most people think I am very opinionated, and that for the most part I am angry and bitter. In most cases they would be right. But as soon as more people agree that I am right and their way of thinking is dumb, well the less bitter and angry I’ll be.

HOWEVER! This hate that consumes channel flippers, burns at such an intensity that they MUST. CHANGE. CHANNEL. NOW BEFORE. HEAD. EXPLODES. Is a whole different level of hate. I have the patience to wait a couple of minutes and then the hate goes away. I do not just seethe with so much hate that I feel the need to change my environment every 2-3 minutes to try and keep the hate at bay.

I mean really that is the blackest of all hate right there. Satan doesn’t hate that much.

So if you are a channel flipper, I suggest you get some counseling so you won’t snap one day and start roughing up Dan Rather yelling in his face, “What’s the Frequency Kenneth??” whilst beating him up.

Really, go get some help.

I’ll wait.

I’ll wait right here with my controlled anger and hate, not flipping the channel, just rocking back and forth, wondering where my socks went.


And This

Wednesday, July 19, 2006



I can’t believe this shit!

I was watching the news this morning and Dena Riley id headed into court today to get more charges tossed her way from the brutal beating and sodomy of Marsha Spicer and possibly the first victim second body found , Michelle Ricci.

Well these two knuckleheads have a listing on Craigslist for a Spirtitual Advisor. It makes me wonder exactly how many episodes of Law and Order they missed? I mean c’mon, that never works. And besides they have “...The most evidence against two suspects ever seen in Jackson county MO I can’t believe that they would even consider a plea for any guidance based on the heinous nature of their crime. I think that even the Pope would say “Damn! You fucked up big homey!”

“The media made us out wrong” What would the media be saying that is wrong? That you two brutally beat and raped and sodomized two women and then RAN form the police, stopping only to pick up your 5 yr old niece to molest her while on the run…yeah there might be some grey area there….OH WAIT you fucking video taped it! Yeah I’m sorry the media has it right you two are on the Hell express and I hope when the state of Missouri puts you down like the rabid curs you are Satan gives as good as you did.

Spiritual advisor my ass. You two will need a tour guide in Hell.

In other news of the Stupid;

Ag. Dept. Data Theft in KS WASHINGTON (AP) - A laptop computer bag has been stolen from an Agriculture Department worker's car in Kansas. Officials say the names, addresses and Social Security numbers of about 350 employees may have been accessed. The theft took place last Friday in Wellington, Kansas.

The department is trying to locate the computer and data, and also is looking into why sensitive employee data was left in a car. The case contained a computer and a printout of the data. It has since been returned to a meat plant, but a department spokesman said it's obvious someone had rummaged through the case.

The theft may have affected about 350 full-time and part-time employees and state contractors involved in federal meat grading programs.

How many times does this have to happen before stupid people remember to take that PORTABLE device with them, no matter where they go? I went to lunch a few weeks ago and since I didn’t know how long I was going to be gone I packed my laptop with me, when I got to the restaurant, I took it inside!! It isn’t that hard of a thing to do. Fucking dummies.

Anywho, I’m off of my soap box for now.

Monday, July 17, 2006


Irony Defined and more war!

Last Friday as I was driving around Independence MO, I saw a new definition of irony.

A family of Japanese tourists taking pictures and posing for pictures in front of the Harry Truman house.

I know! Weird huh? I don’t know if I would be all smiley and wanting to take pictures in front of the home where the guy who ordered the nuclear bomb dropped on my country, not once but twice. It is just a little to much for me. But then again, it did seem to get them out of their funk and make them into the building buying, math wizards, miniature making electronics, and dirty porn making geishas.

So the weekend brought some mediocre excitement, Bouby and I did spend Friday night at the casino, after 3 hours her winning streak broke even with my losing streak and we left almost ahead, (if you don’t count cocktails and dinner). Hung posters for an upcoming Art and Craft Fair that our chapter of JAYCEES is hosting, so if you are arty or crafty, or just have something you want to sell, and are in the KC area, let me know via email and I’ll get you the info.

The Midwest is in the grips of a heat wave with temperatures that we haven’t seen in a couple of years, this whole week is going to be topping 100 degrees and humidity levels will be running in the high 70’s to the low fuckitisfuckingsticky out, I don’t mind the heat so much it is the fucking stupidity I can’t stand.


I haven’t spent as much time studying the conflict in the middle east like I probably should be, but it seems like the brown people in the sand have been arguing over their “holy land” for a couple thousand years, and the only time we give a shit is when our oil supply is under threat to be shut off. Why don’t we just take that piece of land from those people? I mean really, we have been the worlds policeman for the last 60+ years and I think it is time to become the mother. You know the mother that I grew up with who at the drop of a hat would snatch away any toy that I and my brothers were fighting over.

She would warn us once or twice, and then she would take it away and if we were lucky we would get it back in the next week or so. If we weren’t it was GONE never to be seen again.

Why can’t we do that?

We could just send everyone over there and be all “You have been fighting over this toy for to long and you’re standing on my last good nerve! Now give it up, or you ALL get the belt! Then we put Bill Gates or Warren Buffett in charge, they know how to make money, and are just ruthless enough to make it work. Or me, I could do it…well except that it is really fucking hot over there. But besides that it would be kinda fun to be the mommy.

Friday, July 14, 2006


WAR...and stuff

Apparently John Stewart thinks that we are heading intro world war 3.

I think that is an excellent idea. I feel that it is high time that we do something to stop the overpopulation of mother Earth. That and I figure I will be one of the last people standing and it will give me an opportunity to devise a government based solely on what I think is right and wrong.

Like first thing…no lawyers. They just gum up the system like cheese in a colon. Next, capital punishment for all capital crimes, rape, murder, child molestation and child abuse. And I do know the difference between abuse and discipline. None of this “spanking is abuse” That is bullshit. Every action has consequences, and the kids need to learn that early on.

Drinking age 16, driving age 21, smoking? To each his own if you don’t like it stand somewhere else, Freedom of speech on whatever media outlet we have left…radio? You are now completely uncensored, if you want to say the seven dirty words on air, go right fucking ahead.

Newspapers, you better have all of the facts right BEFORE you take a story to press if not you get jail time.

Drugs, all legal. AND taxed, because if you are too stupid to moderate your drug use to become a upstanding citizen in your community then you get to be fucked up all of the time, and when you OD we’ll put you into the crematorium and scatter your remains on my rose bushes so at least in death you will do some good.

Welfare? NO FUCKING WAY! I’ll go all John Smith on people. You don’t work you don’t eat! Get a fucking job or get off of my planet. And making baby criminals is not a job.

Oh and to have kids there will be a written and psychological exam. Be prepared, if you fail you will be sterilized.

Clothing- Optional, but if you get frostbite, or sunburn on your junk, then you are too dumb to be on my planet too.

Doctors- they get paid teachers salaries, and teachers get Dr. salaries. It is far harder to teach kids then it is to keep them alive.

Anyway I hope the war in the middle east escalates and we blow ourselves back to single cell organisms.

Well as long as all of my friends and family and their friends and families are safe and sound. Because as you know we can’t have a war without causalities and I would hate to think any of my friends and their families would be hurt or killed in a war just so I could run a government. I mean really how selfish is that?

On a completely different note I had to spend (put on Bouby’s Credit card) $250.00 worth of contacts and glasses yesterday, and my vision is failing slowly but surely every year. Both of my eyes are degrading at the same rate at least so I don’t have to try and keep my contacts separate, but 3 years ago my script was 2.50 in each eye and yesterday they got bumped to 3.0. There was a 2.75 in there from last year, but ½ a degree in 3 years is a pretty good sign that I’m getting old.

I can’t wait until my 40th Birthday. I am going to have a big assed party with cake and booze and Van Halen opening for Jimmy Buffett, and naked hot tubing, porn, guns, fire trucks, fireworks and fist fights. Everyone is invited. But since that is a year away I think I’m going to set up a paypal account so you can donate to the party fund….Buffett isn’t cheap, and even though Van Halen will probably play for beer money it is going to take some fast talking to get Eddie and Dave on the same stage, I think as the worlds greatest salesman I think I can make that happen.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006




That is the cost of not stopping traffic on the Truman bridge.

Well that and an hour of my time. BUT, I got the new “universal” battery tray into place after my drive home Monday and since then I have had some raving successes.

Nothing that I can go into here but lets just say I’m two meetings away from retirement. I figure if Pro Athletes can retire when they are 38 then fuckitall so can I.


Last Friday Bouby and I went to a sprint car race.

Yes I know they all still practice the time honored tradition of turning left and doing it really fast. But unlike their older more expensive cousin NASCAR these guys have a TINY track, it is generally made of dirt and they spend most of their time turning left AND going sideways. It is a much more enjoyable race. Plus they race 6-10 laps, and then the top three advance to race in the finals. They have “hot laps” which is like qualifying, but funner. And believe it or not there is a different class of red necks at these small time events.

Funny rednecks like this girl…

I know the picture is small and you can’t see what I am taking a picture of, all I had was my crappy camera phone, but she has a tattoo on her “ice cream dish” (small of a woman’s back) that is, and I kid you not, the “Lucky” Brand Logo. Well not the whole logo, just the word "Lucky" but in the same style and font.

Why she would have that tattooed there could only mean two things

1)she wants to let Back Door Johnny know how he should feel about being with her.
2)She wants to let everyone know how she feels about her ass.

I say number 2 because when she stood up and went to get some more semi warm, tasty drink of race fans everywhere, Bud Light, well I got a good look at the rest of her and her ass was definitely “god’s compensation” He HAD to give her a nice ass because the rest of her looked like a fucking car wreck. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her tattoo. It was embarrassing. For me anyway, I think she likes the stupidity of advertising a bad line of clothing for the rest of her life.

Monday, July 10, 2006


Why do I keep getting up in the morning?

I swear this was the worst kick off to a week I have had in some time.

As I was driving to work this morning I noticed that my Brake light was flickering off…yes I said off. It stays on all of the time because of some weird thing in my completely un-restored 1976 Chevy pick-up. So anyway I’m watching this thing flicker because it is more interesting than watching the road at 6:15 in the morning and then I notice that not only is my battery light flickering but my Alternator gauge is acting erratically. I then start to panic a little.

On my way yo work there is two LOOONNNGGG Bridges that are under construction. AT THE SAME TIME!! Way to go MO-DOT !! So I am stressing that I will be THAT guy. You know the guy…he drive a huge pile of shit and when it breaks down it causes traffic to be blocked in all directions for a week and a half. Well I’m praying to Our blessed Sisiter of Car Repair to not let me be that guy.

She had her IPOD in and didn’t hear me.

200 yards from the entrance to my building in the middle of the Truman bridge my truck stops working.

Dead in it’s ti`re tracks.

No reprieve from the gubnor or nuttin.

I jump out of the truck and promptly throw open the hood because half a mile behind me I see cars a’comin.


The second one back is a cop.

Well as it turns out the positive lead on my battery had decided to commit suicide and short itself out on the rusted out battery tray. Thus causing sparks and fire and melty things to happen under my hood….well ok no fire but all of the rest of that is dead on.

So a see a cop walking up and another cop zooming by me on his motorbike. They start directing traffic. I am ashamed. My cool old beater has now made me THAT guy.

Well as I’m trying to wrap hot electrical wires with thin plastic electrical tape, the construction crew leader comes over and asks if I want some help pushing my truck off of the bridge so I wouldn’t be a road hazard.

I promptly agree to that way of thinking and 5 bridge workers (whom I will now and forever stoop referring to them as “billy goats” (as in the 3 billy goats gruff) jumped in behind my pile of shit threw their shoulders into it and pushed my stupid ass off of the bridge. It was like pulling a hair clog out of a shower drain, the traffic was sailing smoothly from there on out.

I tried to call someone at the office but they switched their hours around and no one was in yet. So I gather my stuff thinking that it would be nice to walk the last 200 yards into work and as I stood outside of my truck I locked the doors and gave it a little extra slam to ensure good clouser because it looked like it was going to start raining any second now.

As I slammed the door shut my eyes caught something shiny sitting on the seat of my truck. I stared in disbelief.

Those couldn’t be my keys. My keys were in my pocket where any sane man who was having such a bad start to a week would have surely put them so not to look exactly that stupid at 6:30 in the morning on the side of the road.

As I checked my pockets like the dumbass that I am, because clearly those were my keys, and I knew my search was futile. I let out a little sob.

Why did I get up this morning?

It was then that one of my co-workers who drives a nice up to date car stopped by, and offered help. But since he doesn’t have to hold his car together with bubble gum and baling wire, he was of no help. Except to make me look in the back of my truck for something suitable to break into my own truck.

I found an old CB antenna (yes I’m a pack rat and thankfully I didn’t throw it away) and bent it into a shape perfect for picking the lock of a 30 year old truck…or so I thought. Well my co-worker heads off to work after I shun the idea of leaving my most prized possession, and I stay to jimmy the lock. I was getting nowhere and I was getting there fast.

Then another co-worker appeared out of the pre-rain fog and suggested I try the vent window and to make this tale come to an end I did, he made a loop with two zip ties and snared my lock, jerked it up with one swift move and I was in.

Thank god for helpful co-workers, Billy Goats and me being a pack rat. It can only get better from here.

Friday, July 07, 2006


I need anger management classes...

One of the biggest problems I have with other people is their lack of taking responsibility for their own actions. I know there are a lot of people out there who do and I respect that. It is something my parents taught me from an early age, if you fuck up you face the consequences. Period. Bottom line. No questions asked.

The people that don’t do this chap my ass so bad I want to vent that anger on to them with great vengeance and wrath via fisticuffs and swift kicks to the groin. Kenny Lay, ripped of millions of people, then had the audacity to die before sentencing. He never once said “Fuck I got caught, I’m sorry, here is all of your money back and I’ll let you use my wife as a fuck doll for the next 10 years”

He BELIEVED he did nothing wrong, he had convinced himself that he was somehow entitled to all of that cash. Well I hope he rots in hell.

Just the other day I made a potentially huge mistake. I picked up an outgoing envelope and put it on the desk of the guy who was trying to send it oput. See I had misread the label and thought it was in coming and the DHL driver was too lazy to walk up the flight of stairs to deliver it. (In my defense we NEVER use DHL so I was confused was still cleaning up the craftsman mess, so I was a little heat stroked.) Point is when the sender sent out an email to the entire company sarcastically thanking the party responsible for almost fucking up his whole day, I replied with an OOPS my bad I fucked up email. And I didn’t just send it to him I made sure the whole organization knew who fucked up and why and that I was sorry to have done that. I took responsibility for the mistake.

I didn’t have too because no one knew who did it I was a ninja, No one but me and my Gods knew that I did this dastardly deed. Why did I confess? Why did I come forward with a public apology for fucking up? BECAUSE IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!

Some people around here would have rather lied or not came forward, they do it all the time. The make a HUGE fucking mistake and then come back in like nothing happened and that they weren’t at fault. They never offer an apology of an explanation. They feel that they are entitled to resume their job functions as if nothing had happened. These people make my ass twitch.

I don’t want to name names or point fingers but I do know that I needed to vent and I am still a little pissed off after this venting. There are several millions of other people who don’t take responsibility for their actions that piss me the fuck off, like bad parents who blame everyone else for their kids behavior and not themselves. Or the Liberals who blame society for the rise in crime and that if we had more social programs we would have a nicer nation, and what we really get is a nation of fucking worthless lazy cock slaves who would rather sit on their asses and collect their fucking check rather then work.

I also hate the soccer moms and football dads who don’t let their kids know early on that some kids aren’t meant to play football/soccer, and that losing is a part of life. If you are a parent and you cause or get into a fist fight at your kids sporting event you need to stop breeding and check yourself into some sort of parenting college, or rehab.

Man I could rant like this for hours on end. I won’t but I could.

Bottom line is stop acting like a jackass and more than likely people will quit treating you like a jackass. Respect is earned not given, and for fucks sake take responsibility for your actions. Do it now, I am armed and will to shoot. I wouldn’t kill you necessarily but I would make you walk with a limp.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006



I can’t believe that it is already July 5th 2006.

It seems like just yesterday I was making buttons for Sirius Kiosks.

I lost the whole month of May to making buttons and then I was thrown into the mix for the new Craftsman trailer exhibit. Then I lost the whole month of June and part of July. 60 days of non stop long hours and sleepless nights I think that I am finally out of the woods and will soon be back to making cold calls and handling the brunt of the sales calls.

Now why was last week worse then the previous 3? Simple. You should NEVER work with your spouse everyday, day in and day out on the road for 15-20 weeks in a row. John and Mary (not their real names) are in charge of the set up and tear down of the new exhibit. They had a HUGE fight the night after the third time this exhibit had seen the light of day. A fight so big there was a little violence involved and a “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS HOTEL ROOM” screaming match, followed by the escalation of “John’s” already high blood pressure resulting in him calling “Mary” from the road somewhere to tell her to tell his kids (not hers) that he loves them and is heading to the emergency room.

“Mary” freaked the fuck out and spent the rest of the morning and all of the next day crying and wondering which hospital he was headed to. She later found out that he was admitted to the hospital and a battery of tests were run to figure out if it was a heart attack of an anxiety attack or if he was just having chest pains because he was fighting with his wife and was overcome with guilt of being wrong.

Who fucking knows? I didn’t press the issue when she finally broke down and cried on my shoulder for 10 minutes saying how scared she was and that she had no idea what to do.

Naturally I didn’t find out about this mess until lunch time on day two of the set up.

Why was me and my team even there? Well it seems that the powers that be couldn’t get their shit together enough, early enough to give our tech team and our designer (whom as we all know quit 18 hours before this exhibit was supposed to ship out 3 weeks ago) enough time to work out all of the bugs in the design and the technology that makes this exhibit an award winning technology marvel. So Since I was still standing in front of the shit covered fan, and we were setting this up at the Kansas Speedway…our backyard, I with the help of some EXTREMELY cool and smart people were at the track for the third weekend in a row working like slaves in Egypt to erect this monstrosity.

So when I was at lunch and got the whole story from head bigwig at the promotions company, I, being the “Field Supervisor” (whatever the fuck that means) decide that since we are in our home town and that this was a pretty expansive race and the third time out of the box, we would pick up the slack of the two missing HNIC’s and one lazy assed driver who would rather argue about poor designed trailer and how funny he thought he was, and stay until the completion of the project.

I was a complete ball o’ stress. So I looked at my team, and told them what was going to happen and they looked at me like I just told them that the sky was blue. “No shit” was all one guy said. So we finished our lunch and picked up lunch for the crew, and headed back to the job site. It was then I realized why our temp labor was temp labor. They were the most worthless pile of standing around and doing fucking nothing that I have ever seen. Fucking worthless I tell you. About 3 o’clock that afternoon when we should have been close to finishing the project, based on timelines that we had established the previous two weeks…we hadn’t even come close.

My phone rang and it was my CEO. He told me that if I needed resources to let him know and he would get some shop guys to come out and lend a hand. Well I love our shop guys to death but if they don’t have a plan written in triplicate, and collated along with a planogram of the complete project, they really can’t think for themselves. I told the boss I didn’t need any more “temp” labor I needed one more smart guy that was a doer and a thinker, not just a doer OR a thinker!

2 hours later I got the CEO, a designer that was on an interview, another project manager and a guy who thinks he is a project manager(one for this job, who is basically a glorified shipping manager, and needs the same plans as the shop guys to get anything done) and some friends of the tech team. I was set.

Unlike any previous jobs I had worked on with my boss, he was different this time. Instead of showing up and barking orders and trying to take over everything, thinking he knows more than everyone else he got there walked around the exhibit once and walked up to me and said “ where do you want me?” I almost fainted. BUT! I then took full advantage of his generosity and promptly put him to work on some detail stuff I knew we would never get done if I needed temps to try and attempt it. The whole crew was like that as well and everyone fell into a work routine like they were part of this project from day one.

It was nice to have a team of people that you could set a task before them and they did it even though you gave them a very rudimentary set of instructions. I am VERY proud of my co-workers. Without them there would have been a seriously upset client, and even though it had very little to do with me and my crew, it still showed some great customer service and dedication to the project, not just the paycheck.

But the bonuses are coming in handy, not to mention that I lost almost two full pant sizes working like a field worker in the heat…and my hair looks like it did when I was a kid and lived 300 yards from the city pool. I am very tanned and blonde. And we all know a tanned fat guy looks better then a un-tanned fat guy!

BBQ anyone?

Tuesday, July 04, 2006


Happy Independence day! (Sad totally english suppression day)

So here I sit on the 4th waiting for the explosions to start...I know I have like 8 hours and nothing to do. I have been running so long and hard that I am taking a full day for some much needed slothery. I promise I will write down all of the trauma that has happened including the day I had to become the lead for not just our side of the project, but the OTHER companies lead as well.

Ha=ve a safe and happy 4th, those of you with kids try and keep their fingers attached to their hands.