untitled

I seem to like blogging my short comings. I think I do this because I hope it will inspire me to be better.

I don’t think it’s working.

I was steamed today. The most steamed I have been in awhile. I think I might have blown harder but not for as long.

I couldn’t cool myself down no matter how much reasoning I did.

It was over a few minor things too; they just added up.


I did organize my panel clips, though.

Rocks listen better than trees listen

I rarely type right into the blogger text window because in the old days one would always hear stories about how blogger ate a post but sometimes I will live on the edge, like right now, and type right into the text window. I'm badass.

Anyway, I was busy at work so I really had no time to think up amusing and amazing things to say so you will have to do without my loveliness today.

I feel a little beat-down but not really beat-down but kind of like a rock who everyone beats-down on. It really does no damage to the rock but that rock would really just like to be left alone because you are just wasting time or if not left completely alone maybe the rock could have a pretty lady sit on him for awhile while she gets left alone and confides her secrets that are troubling her to the rock because she thinks that the rock isn't listening or more accurately that rocks can't listen but little does she know that rocks do listen. It's just that they can't talk.

...

I often wish that everyone would just do their own job, so that I can just do mine.

So, this is how it usually goes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m having trouble spelling ‘their’".

“Their? That was words and words ago.”

“Yeah, and I used up all my available memory storing the rest of what you were saying while I was trying to figure out how to spell it. You know I have trouble with that word from time to time.”

“I know but I still don’t know why that word holds us up. There are really only two ways to spell it, either ie or ei.”

“Yeah, I know but sometimes both look kind of right or both look kind of wrong.”

“Can’t you just flat out memorize how it’s spelled?”

“You know it sometimes doesn’t work that way.”

“What about memorizing that ‘i’ before ‘e’ rule doesn’t apply?”

“Yeah, that usually works but I still doubt myself sometimes. You’ve been in on the debates.”

“Yeah. Well, do you have it spelled right yet?”

“Yup. You may proceed, just make sure I don’t type the word ‘the’ as a capital I or leave out the word not in a sentence. You really should proofread what I write.”

“I thought you didn’t like me proofreading because I usually end up making massive edit changes.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Maybe you could proofread it with one eye closed?”

“Somehow, I don’t think that would work.”

They are more like just voices but saying that would be weird

Sometimes the guy in charge of my thinking will get into heated discussions with the guy in charge of controlling my fingers. I don't think that they really like each other much.

Did I really spell through: T-H-R-E-W?

Shit! I just stretched a bit as I was wondering what type of bullshit I was going to feed you today and I heard this crinkling noise so I felt my shirt pocket and that produced the same crinkling paper noise so I reached in and pulled out a sawbuck and I thought: “This shirt has been through the laundry, yet this magical ten dollar bill has survived.” Okay maybe that wasn’t the actual thought but the true thought wasn’t dissimilar.

Anyway, hopefully there is a picture of it because I did take a picture but sometimes I get lazy and I won’t post it.



If there is a picture it shows a ten dollar bill that is folded in quarters by first folding it lengthwise and then folding it shortwise, and I usually fold it like that so that I can slip it under something as I’m leaving the bar, so I guess I short tipped someone.

That’s not true, no one was shorted, if I pocketed it, it was because people were already tipped but that I was going to be more generous to a particular someone.

I have a whole complicated tipping scheme that I will not go into today.

There should also be a picture of the handwritten 42 that is also circled that is on the bill. I don’t know the significance of this notation.



I started reading Woe is I just last night and there was something about using that or which and that sentence, that is above, made me think about it. I believe I got it right.

I’ve also found out that I have some bad habits. One habit is using they instead of the proper he, such as in the sentence:

And if anybody doesn’t like it, then they can kiss my hairy ass.

It should be:

And if anybody doesn’t like it, then he can kiss my hairy ass.

I’ll usually use the they because it’s gender nonspecific but I’ll told that this is not correct and that I should just suck it up and use the male pronoun.


Is it Friday yet?

Fat Cats Love Fat

Times are tough. People are getting worried. People are starting to do stupid things like start flipping circuit breakers so the boss’s lights will come on only the boss’s lights do not come on and all people accomplish is shutting off everyone’s computer.

I think most people are trying to demonstrate that maybe they are needed so that when the ax falls that they are deemed to be meat and not fat.

Although, the fat cats love fat.

I check the fax machine often throughout the day because a lot of important things come for me via fax and if I don’t check, then no one tells me. I’m the only one that tells me anything most of the time and often I’m trying to get myself to shut the fuck up.

Anyway, the way I leave the fax machine is often different then the way I get to the fax machine and my return route gives me a view of the moronic circuit flipper’s computer monitor and today I spied that he was playing solitaire.

Dude, I hope you get fired. What bothers me most is probably that solitaire playing isn’t tracked like surfacing the net is.


….

I want this Winter season to be over; not that I’m bitching about the cold and the wind and the snow but it’s just that I want a change; a good change, a change that goes in my favor.

Sometimes, I judge

The people come and go like the tide and this tide rolled in a grandmother and her toddler granddaughter. The grandmother was feeding her granddaughter, who was seated in a stroller, ice cream.

They sat at the end of a row of tables and the stroller took up more than half of the space left for walking. The maintenance crew often rolls around a trash bin; the trash bin wouldn’t fit by the stroller so the grandmother moved the stroller out of the way and then moved it back. I watched her do this four times and wondered each time why she didn’t just keep the stroller out of the way. There was plenty of room.

I assumed she was just a stupid bitch who shouldn’t be allowed to be alone with impressionable children.

Is it Friday yet?

Hey, Tim don't forget to read the comments

So, I started using Google Reader mostly because I’m trying to be like Tracy. I haven’t taken up stalking cashiers at Trader Joe’s yet but I’m working on it. Anyway, I like Google Reader because I don’t have to check each blog individually anymore, and sometimes when I was mentally bored I would check a site about once an hour, but the thing about Google Reader is that you miss out on the comments, so I need to remember to actually visit those sites that I read to get those delicious comments.

I used to use Bloglines but the powers that be felt that that service had no actual business related worth and blocked it.

I doubled my carbon footprint

I asked for a Venti Green Ice Tea and I was told that they were out of the Venti cups so they had to give me two tall cups and divide the Venti amount of tea between them. I just shrugged.

Walking away I pretended that I was being a nice guy and buying my friend an ice tea and then I sat down and looked like a gluttonous friendless loser with two teas.

The point being: Use the effing email!

I’ve been using lotion lately because the skin around my knuckles is drying out and it tends to split and tear when I’m cracking people in the jaw for making fun of me for using lotion.

…


I know I’ve touched some lives in my time here on Earth but it never seems that I’m doing enough.


…


I work in a relatively a big place and I wouldn’t mind coming right out and telling where it is but I really don’t want it to ever show up in some search engine so therefore I never speak the actual name of the place but I’m certain a few readers must have figured it out by now, especially if I read their site and they have something like sitemeter going on because my IP address just blurts out where I work.

Anyway, there are several departments and each department contains several divisions and each division contains several sections and sometimes the sections have groups and both the groups and the sections have several employees. The point being that there are a lot of people. So when I get a phone call from one of these people looking for one of my co-workers and I ask if I can take a message, I would really appreciate it if that person would say: “No thanks, I’ll sent them an email,” just like I do when I can’t reach someone in the building by the telephone, because once I hang up the phone after taking your message I sent my co-worker an email saying that you called.

The point being: Use the effing email!

And I would like to thank someone in the building for getting the message after I cc’ed her the email I sent my co-worker. She thanked me for relaying her message and then sent him an email with all the questions she wanted to ask him so now he has time to formulate answers for all her questions and can respond by email if he so wishes. Now isn’t that easy?

The point is: Thanks for using the email.

Hey, dream self

Notice anything different? You really shouldn’t. It’s just that I’m using a new flash drive. I figured that it was about time to retire the 4GB Sony so I bought a PNY 8GB.

I had dreams last night: one was that I was making a sandwich and the other was that the city was using my front lawn for temporary storage.

I was having problem deciding what I wanted to put into the sandwich as I was making it for someone else; a group of people actually, although there was only one sandwich and it was only of medium size. Salami was the big issue because I could imagine that some people don’t like that kind of cured meat. I knew I could make a sandwich I would like but I was worried that not everyone would like it. I remember putting bacon on top of the pile of whatever I did put in there.

The other dream I was looking out my kitchen window and could see bales of hay wrapped in thick white plastic along with small orange plastic bags that looked like pumpkins. Somehow I knew that some Halloween event was going to take place in the city park across the street and for some reason the city workers dumped the supplies in my front lawn instead of dumping them in the park. I assumed that they would have been in the way of set-up if they had dumped them in the park. I really didn’t care, I wasn’t going to be using the front lawn between now and then but I thought it would have been nice to ask.

I remember turning away from the window while holding a cup of coffee.



Why do ridiculous things seem non-ridiculous in dreams? There are times when I’ll be recalling a dream and wonder why my dream self didn’t think it was abnormal to have a bath tub full of vanilla pudding.

Hey, dream self why is the bath tub full of pudding?

Because that’s not the bathing bath tub that’s the pudding bath tub. The bathing bath tub is upstairs.


…

Angelina is getting a bunny. I used to have a bunny. Her given name was Cutie Pie but I usually called her Bunny. I would call her Rabbit when she would run to greet me and try to stop but fail and then slide right into my legs almost tripping me because she would mostly do it while I was walking. I was never really certain if she was actually trying to greet me or if she was actually trying to get me to meet my demise.

She was giving to me by a friend and by given I mean unloaded. Originally, there were two rabbits one for each daughter but then one rabbit died because it broke its back while stomping at the miniature Doberman pincer that just arrived in the house. Getting rid of the dog wasn’t an option so the rabbit had to relocate. I believe also that the mother didn’t want the surviving rabbit around to remind young girls about death as well as having the possibility that the surviving rabbit might die in a similar fashion.

Anyway, I was asked if I would take the rabbit or else it would have to go to the animal shelter, so I took the rabbit. I kept her mostly in the living room, in her cage but later I felt that I was like a warden of a rabbit prison so I would let her out while I was around. I was sorry that I didn’t let her roam about freely earlier in our relationship because even though she shed quite a bit and she liked to chew through electrical cords, it was kind of nice doing things like sharing my baby carrots with her.

Another thing she would so is the find the room you where in and then just lounge about in the middle of the floor and it seems stupid to say* but I would sometimes fell a little bit loved but it was probably because she learned that I like snacking on carrots.

When they are pissed off they will stamp their feet and throw things but other than that I think it’s hard to read their emotions.

I think she was seven years old when she died. I had her for three years. I buried her near a lilac tree in the back yard where she should remain undisturbed. Even though I often had an attitude that she was just a rabbit, I missed her once she was gone.



*I say a lot of stupid things here, so it really doesn’t bother me to add yet another layer of retardedness. And remember these are all just fish stories anyway, so nothing here can be taken as the truth. Now I need some time alone as I dry my eyes.

Come on, ma’am

Once, I ran into a friend of one my sisters at Staples. I believe I was buying cover stock, which is just very thick paper for those of you not in the know, it’s slightly less thick than card stock. Later my sister told me that so-n-so said that they were surprised to see me, a man, shopping in Staples.

The lady isn’t actually a friend of my sister, she just a former co-worker. I’m not certain where men are supposed to buy their office supplies. Are men even supposed to buy office supplies? Or is that strictly a woman’s job? Do I need to hang out in front of Staples pleading with ladies to buy me paperclips?

“Come on, ma’am, please. Please buy me some transparent tape. I’ve got the money right here. You can even keep the change. I’ll wait around the corner.”

Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes

I sent JM a facebook* message letting her know that she made "the list." She replied that the lady is a pain in her ass and that she was waiting by the door at 11:30am to be let in. She had written some other things too and I was struck with the image of a stray cat.

There are sometimes when you see stray cat out looking for either attention or food or both and you may feel a bit of pity for this stray cat so you'll feed it or scratch it behind the ears or both but you're just trying to help it get through the day; you're not trying to make it your pet but yet it follows you around to the point where you're tripping over it.


I don't know why I felt I needed to take a picture of this squirrel.


He doesn't seem to be anything special but yet, I went and got my camera.


And I've seen squirrellier. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes


*JM is the reason I even have a Facebook page she said, "You've got to try this. It's better than MySpace." It does help me keep in touch with some friends, though.

I haven't learned yet or I think I might be a masochist

Remember that lady I told you about that sometimes can’t keep her hands off of me? Well, it was worse than usual but then she’s been having a tougher go of it recently.

I thought she was going to be okay, just a little frisky but I underestimated the amount of alcohol in her system. I believe she actually bit me twice. She knows, or at least she should know, that I have really no interest in sleeping with her but then I think that is what bothers her and she still sees me as a challenge.

She still currently has two boyfriends and I have met them both and have had conversations with one of them. I have little desire to be in that mix.

She still tries that weepy, “I guess you don’t like me,” bit. How do you tell a woman that it’s not that you don’t like her it’s just that you don’t want to shove your cock into her? Today JM joined the list of bartenders that I’m “dicking” and that is the reason that I won’t let her hop on the Timmy Train. Previously on the list were Danielle, Emily, Jen, Lauren and Lanna.

And I’m slightly flattered that she thought I could get any of those women.

She also took offense that I haven’t baked her any bread.

“Whaddya do, throw a towel over it and let it sit and then throw it in the oven?”

“Basically, but it’s a little more involved in that,” I wasn’t looking at her at this point.

“Then whaddya do?”

I glanced back at her and she was staring into my eyes; I turned back away and said “You start with a starter, which seems obvious. A starter is just some of the flour, yeast and water that you mix up and then let it ferment. You let the starter sit at room temperature for several hours and then you put it in the frig overnight. You then mix the starter with the rest of the flour, yeast and water and let that rise for two hours, you then shape it and let that rise for an hour and then you bake it. It takes a lot of time and planning.”

“Oh, I see.”

Drunk bitch, may have crossed my mind at that point but I try to be a gentleman so I just smiled.

I'm a riot

At lunch, it was all the regulars and all the regulars have all their regular lines and one of the lines from Tony is "I come here for the women.” He says it most every time when he is asked if he wants a beer.

Tony is in his mid to late eighties and he’s a standup guy, so it’s funny when he says it unlike if someone else where to say it then they would be an a-hole.

So, when he said it today JM, the bartender, replied, “Most men do,” to which I replied, “And some women, too.” She laughed and I then said, while looking around the bar “Although I haven’t seen her yet today.” JM mentioned that she was confident that she would show up.

Four minutes later, she walked through the door. She’s a lady who always wears a black leather jacket. Her attire is not that dissimilar to a truck driver's and I’m pretty sure she has a little bit of a wispy beard. She’s been coming into the bar for quite some time but the first person I had ever seen her talk to was JM. Whenever I see her coming, I'll say "Here comes your girlfriend."

JM then looked over at me and said “Timmy, how did you know? I think you have powers.” I just shrugged.

It’s really we’re all just creatures of habit and I'm a bit nosy.

Concerns: not great

I don’t have any great concerns that I don’t see myself overcoming but I do have this guy reading the paper across from me. I wish that he would just take the paper back to his cube and return it later, but then he’s probably over here because he doesn’t want to be seen reading the paper at his desk. For some reason reading the paper at a vacant desk seems better than reading the paper at your own desk.

It almost seems like you could convince yourself that you’re researching the paper when it’s not at your desk as opposed to goofing off at work reading the paper on your own desk.

But I’m sure there are bigger issues at hand than some minor nuisance of someone reading the newspaper.

On the ride up in the elevator, someone I know asked how I was doing. I told then that I was surviving. I miss the way it was before responsibilities got in the way.

I’m trying to make a better effort of doing more than just surviving. I’m starting by picking some little thing and doing it instead of worrying about all of the things that I need to do.

The turtle is eating his floating log, the one I got to replace the floating ramp that he was eating. I’ve been feeding his as directed but he never seems satisfied and I worry about over feeding him. I think I might have to change his living arrangements so I can get enough room to pile a bunch of rocks in the tank so that he can get out of the water. So far he doesn’t seem to eat the rocks. He more trouble than I thought he would be but it really isn’t enough trouble to complain about.

Money is getting tighter and I was out of cash for coffee the other day so I had to unfold one of those origami shirts. You probably remember I don’t like unfolding them because it feels unlucky to me. I remember while smoothing out the creasing that it seemed rather silly to not want to unfold them. I didn’t seem any more unlucky than usual; my luck still seemed to be holding steady.

I hope all is well.

New(s)paper

Sometimes, I just run out of steam. Actually, that’s not true, sometimes, I just shut it down.


Writing to write, listening to the Blues.

Sometimes, I just want to be alone, to worry about my own things.

I wonder how you are doing. I hope you get over those things that cause you concern. I wait for the day that I’ll get to see you.

…

It’s something new and it’s bothering me.

a pot and a dead kettle

“Yeah, I’m not at the wake. He never did nothing for nobody. He sat in that office right there and never did nothing for nobody. He never had a degree or anything. He gave everyone whatever they wanted. What a nice guy. What a nice guy. The guy was a prick. It’s awful to speak of the dead like that.”

I think it’s kind of awful to speak of the living like that.

moving pictures

Sometimes the Word spelling dictionary sucks worst than my spelling.


I hadn’t done a video in awhile; I’ve forgotten a lot of things and I shot it with my Canon PowerShot SD880 IS Digital Elph. I used the point and shot because I haven’t installed the software for my video camera onto my laptop yet. It’s been over a year since I’ve had the laptop, maybe two. I have to break it before three years are up because that’s when the extended warranty runs out.

The lighting sucks and I didn’t bother with transitions or bells or whistles or spelling or decent points of view.

Maybe there is a transition or two but there just fades that weren’t planned out, they were just shoved in.

And what’s up with those beefy hands? Are my hands really that fat? No wonder I couldn’t keep them out of the way of the peeler.

she said it was the least she could do

To: a co-op from seven years ago
Subject: Are you still there?

Sometimes, I crave a Chunky bar because years ago you reminded me that there was still just a thing.
I'm having my lawyers figure out a way to sue you because buying Chunky's damages my image.

...

From: a co-op from seven years ago
Subject: RE: Are you still there?

This may be the most random email I have ever gotten. And I'm sorry I ruined your life or your image or whatever. Don't blame the Chunky - blame the man...
 
...

To: a co-op from seven years ago
Subject: RE: RE: Are you still there?

Apology accepted. Thank you.

Nuts

“Hey, Brian,” is what I hear from behind me and it’s directed at me, and if you’re new here: I’m not Brian.

The guy talking is a bit of a-hole but sometimes it’s just his disability and not his choice.

“I’m not Brian,” I said while keeping my back to him and only turned around once he got my name right.

I couldn’t help him with what he was asking anyway so I might have well as been Brian.

He could have walked back to his cube thinking: “That Brian guy don’t know shit.”


...

He doesn’t make mountains out of molehills he just calls molehills mountains.

...

Please someone just kick me in the crotch the next time I consider buying a nut mix with pistachios in it. Pistachios don’t play well with the other nuts or vise-versa.

I’ve actually only done it twice and I think I’ve learned my lesson.

...

The proper etiquette for taking nuts from a container that is shared by others is to shake or poor the nuts into your hand.


...

So, I had to shake hands with someone from the public and when I got back to my desk I Purelled my hands because I was still using them for eating nuts and not that that is an interesting story but I felt a little bit guilty about.

...

Another thing that I came to a conclusion on is: 34 degrees Fahrenheit is still classified as cold and that a scarf can be used without ridicule as long as it isn’t being worn like a woman unless you are indeed a woman.

...

I wonder about
The delicate deli cat
Whose tail is missing

A church going lady doesn't need to know the definition

So, the lady here that answers the phone is a bit of a douche but she’s old and goes to church every day and pretends like she’s stupid so nobody says anything to her even when she’s busy NOT answering the phone. If you were to call my line when I’m away from my desk it would ring for as long as you could bear to wait or until I got back to my desk even though all she has to do is pick up her receiver and push a button to take a message but somehow she has it in her mind that she doesn’t need to answer my line even though everyone else that sits at that very same desk will take a message when my phone rings more than five times.

Anyway, she’s a douche and when she was at lunch a friend of mine was filling in and I guess someone ended up calling her something unpleasant and when my friend was telling the douche her story she spelled out what she was called which was F-U-C-K-I-N-G C-U-N-T.

Now, that something that you can’t ever say in most work places but after my friend left, the douche ends up asking people what the word means. I wanted to yell out, “It’s what you are,” but I just kept quiet.

“I know it’s a bad word but what does it mean?” is what she kept asking.

Why do you need to know, you douche?



…

During a phone conversation when someone is going to give me a phone number or address or some other such information that routinely gets written down and I’m asked if I have a pencil and paper, I will say, “I have a pen and paper,” because I’m a douche too.



The candy assortment today is: assorted mini Hersey bars and fun size peppermint patties, both are wrapped in wonderful Easter colors.

It's not very good

Louie, Louie

When I came back I brought with me a box of chocolates. Before I had left, Louie showed up with a bouquet of flowers. I couldn't see the quality of the flowers but the wrapping made them look like that where purchased from a street corner.

Louise is a regular; a newer regular, he isn't old school like me or Tony. Tony is in his eighties. Louie is in his seventies. Tony is in better shape than Louie. Tony states his displeasure every time, Louie refers to him as his uncle; Louie does this a lot.

I think Louie thinks that he has a chance with the bartender; nothing serious but maybe some shows of affection. I think that is why he brought in the flowers.

I don't think Louie is a bad guy but I also think that he oversteps his bounds. One of my shortcomings is that I like to try to put people in their place.

Fate provided me with a seat between my friend and Louie. I placed the bag with the high end chocolates on the far edge of the bar; between Louie and myself. It was almost in his way; next to the napkin holder which is next to the garnish station.

Louie's pride deflated a little. I smiled inside.

Later, when she was pouring a draft she said, "Louie, I can feel you raping me with your eyes."

Louie's a bit of a jerk.

Surprisingly, I did not take this photo for Tracy. I used it in a marketing piece after I put words and logos on it.


I took this for the day job, someone wanted to put a twenty foot tent on the sidewalk which would have left two and a half feet of space left. I said, "No."


I was bored.


I had an eight o'clock deadline to deliver bread; that's the time she said she was leaving for Vegas. It was mostly a joke; her request and my agreement because baking bread for a road trip to Vegas is a little odd. It was an agreement made a month and a half before she planned to leave.


We were at the bar the night before she planned to leave. Some folks trickled in and out but it was mostly just her, me and the bar staff.

She said her goodbyes at 8:00pm. She pulled her Red Sox hat down; I think, to hide some tears.

I calculated the time it would take to bake bread. Six hours for the starter, two hours to rise, twenty minutes to rest after the initial shaping, an hour and a half after the final shaping, twenty minutes to bake.

6+2=8
8+.5=8.5
8.5+1.5=10
10+.5= 10 and ½.

At home at 8:30pm. 8:30pm + 10.5 hours = I had time.

So, I had time.

Notice the early morning sunshine of the finished product.

and I don't mean his name was Richard

So, I was standing in line behind an elderly Asian man; the man’s age and ethnicity doesn’t factor into the story. Behind me was a Caucasian man probably in his early sixties, his age and ethnicity doesn’t factor into the story either.

We all were waiting to be summoned to a register to place a fast food order. It was 11:15am and the place had customer but isn’t what I would call busy. I watched and tried to calculate which of the two registers would become available first.

I still didn’t have a guess when the guy behind me asked if I was waiting to place an order. I replied, “Yes I am, just like this guy,” as I pointed to the gentleman in front of me.

“Well then you should move up or else they might think you’re waiting to pick up your order.”

I half turned to the guy and said, “No, they won’t. You wait for your order over there,” and then pointed to where three people were waiting.

“Well, I’ve been here before--”

“Well, so have I and people wait for their orders over there.”

I then placed my order as the Asian guy already placed his and I waited in the waiting area as I watched they guy that was behind argue with the girl over what he wanted for an order. The guy is a dick.

Swoop indeed

So, you see, there was this potato and this peeler and this index finder. The index finger was part of a larger group and in cahoots with the peeler and the whole lot of them started doing horrific things to the potato but the thing is that the potato was just sitting there taking it; taking it all, whatever was doled out and this perplexed the violent mob who then stepped up their attack and well, I guess the peeler got pushed a little too far and kind of ran over part of the index finger.

Peeled a piece right off.

Swoop.

I remember thinking: “Damn,” and then I watched as the blood started to come and then I thought: “This isn’t going to stop bleeding anytime soon because there is no skin to stop it,” so I quickly grabbed a paper napkin and tired to remember where the closest band-aids were and where the heck the rubber gloves were so I could finish the potatoes.

I think my band-aids are stuck in a closet behind a pile of clean clothes that I had dealt with by throwing them into a pile. It’s a rather large pile which can’t easily be moved with one hand.

I figured it would be just easier to buy new band-aids, so I folded a napkin a couple times and then cut it into a small square and then using packing tape, I made a band-aid.

The thing is that packing tape isn’t all the flexible, especially when you’re trying to wrap it around the tip of a finger, so when you make a band-aid out of packing tape and you can’t get a complete seal and your finger is still leaking blood not much unlike a slightly left on faucet, you are going to get some leakage.

So, I wrapped the tapped up finger in a Wendy’s napkin and drove to the drug store and kept my left hand in my pocket the whole time.

Damn potato.


This is four days later and it's covered in New Skin Liquid Bandage because the lighter colored oval is where there was no old skin at all.

(picture by request of xTx)

Pshaw!

She asked.

She asked why I had an array of staplers.



"Well" I said "Because one was giving to me by Fred I."

"I don't know Fred I," she said. Which didn't surprise me because she wasn't working in our office when my former boss was around. Fred was the boss when I was hired in 1995.

"The problem is: his stapler doesn't work all that well so I have that one in the middle but one day someone stole that one so I went to the copy room and took that other one."

"So, you need to keep them all?"

"Well, it doesn't seem right to get rid of Fred's and I actually use the one in the middle and the third is for when the middle one gets stolen again."

She then said, "I see," as she walked away.

I think she regretted asking.

Rant

The building managers shut the lights off at night by shutting off circuit breakers; it’s easy to stand at an electrical box than to walk around nine floors of office space, and as such sometimes the lights don’t get turned back on the next morning. It’s not a common problem but it’s not an unknown problem. It happens from time to time.

Now I don’t know who to call in such a case but I do know that there is someone you can call and I also know that I can walk down to Security and mention it to them and they will get the light turned back on.

There was no problem with the lights in my section so I left the problem of some lights out to someone else. I could have tried to solve the problem but if other people see the problem there is a better chance that the inherent problem might get fixed as opposed to me just getting the symptoms fixed.

Well, it turns out that someone in the lights out section was a little bit more hands-on then I chose to be and he started flipping circuit breakers in a local box. I stood up to see over my cubical wall, who the dumbfuck was after my computer went dead.

I understand checking the breakers and I also understand flipping any tripped breakers but to just start resetting ever breaker in the whole entire box should never be an option unless the building electrician tells you to or you let everyone in the office know you’re about to do it. And this particular dumbfuck has done the same dumbfuckery before.

Some people began the barrage before I opened my mouth. I guess my computer is on one of the lower breakers and the folks on the higher breaker were already letting him know that his decision was a poor one. I was slightly surprised that he was undaunted in switch flipping, and after he went through the entire panel, the lights in question still didn’t turn on.

“It would have been nice if there was a warning.”

“I know it was stupid.”

“Well, it’s not like this is the first time this has happened.”

“I know but if the lights aren’t on when the boss comes in then I’ll hear about it.”

“It would have been nice if there were some way we could have called Maintenance or something.”

He continued the explain his fear of the boss coming in and finding that his lights weren’t on but the company has people for that stuff and those people should be called and if the boss comes in and there are no lights then say “I called Maintenance and they are on it.”

The guy is a dumbfuck, who is also a busybody who also has off the wall opinions, who always thinks that he is right, who thinks he’s higher than his station in life. You are a fifty six year old male secretary. You are not the office manager. You have been slowly downgraded in responsibilities through your travels though all the departments that no longer want you.

You suck and no one likes you.

…

He later came over an apologized. He claimed he had a brain fart. I reminded him that this wasn’t the first time he had done that exact thing.

Prove that you have learned something and then I’ll let it slide.

I wasn’t even working on anything important and thanks to the autosave I got most of it back but still, it was a dumbass move.

Stop being a dumbass, dumbass.


…

I need things done

I have plenty to do and no desire to do any of it and some of it really does need to get done.

The Cardinal is still the most ferocious of all the songbirds

I like Springsteen but I was disappointed with half time but the three reviews that I have read were all favorable.

…

The Cardinals could have won; they had their chances. The Cardinal is still the most ferocious of all the songbirds.

…

I think I might shut the comments off and if you have anything to say, you can say it in an email.

…

I think I might stop drinking not that I think I’m having a problem with the booze and I will probably still drink socially or have a beer with homemade pizza or something but I think I might stop hanging out in the bar. I no longer see the point in it; I haven’t for awhile. If I weren’t friendly with a couple folks down there I would have stopped months ago.

I’m starting to want to be better; let’s hope it lasts.

…

Lady G did that “25 things” thing on her facebook page and one of her things was that I’m her best friend. I commented that I thought I could sometimes be a better best friend.

…

sink or swim

I say that to myself a lot. I say it here from time to time. The thing of it is that even when I chose to sink, I somehow always remain afloat, so I end up floating about while others are sinking or swimming and then I have to struggle with guilt.

So, it really works out to be stand and watch while doing nothing or effect a change.

It’s just easier to say “sink or swim.”

…

For excitement, over the weekend, I seasoned my fajita cast iron pans.

I used my new Panini pan three times over the weekend and twice I was disappointed. The one time I wasn’t disappointed was when I used it for grilling chicken breast. I’ll have to do some thinking for sandwich ingredients before I try grilling a sandwich again; I thought I wouldn’t have to think about it much but I guess I thought wrong. Maybe I don’t like Panini’s.

…


I fantasize about xTx, mostly about her cleavage. I’ll read her posts and want to slip my favorite dinner recipes right in between.

dangerous safe words

“I bet you didn’t expect to see me here,” was how she greeted me but I did actually know that she was going to be there because I was there yesterday. They all know I have my favorite even though I’ll never admit it.

I told her that I actually did know she was going to be there and I told her why I knew. She’s a smoking hot Brazilian and she’s number two on my favorite’s list.

After a few minutes she said, “I was kind of crank yesterday to everyone. I think it was because I was about to get my period,” and then the waitress said, “Yeah me too. Everything was bothering me, yesterday.”

A few minutes after that the waitress leaned over and said, “Do you know what bothers me? It when I learn over the table to serve the beers and I hit the table,” she said as she looked down at her chest, “Right where some guys hand is and he doesn’t move he hand out of the way. Do you think he leaves it there on purpose?”

“Yes he does. And he’ll probably brag about it when he gets back to the office as well.”

I forget what she said after that but I then said that if the guy wasn’t looking her way then it could be an honest mistake but that if it happened every time then he’s definitely doing it on purpose.

“So, he’s just trying to cop a feel? Right?”

“Yes”

…

My safe word is: “Knock it off, you dumb ugly bitch.”

And then sometime later, “Hey baby, you know that’s just my safe word.”

There was some photo evidence I was just too lazy to post it

This is the silk tie from China I was wearing from the other day


This is a shot of the candy bowl and also wear I keep my binder clips


This is just a shot of something I wrote.