Must Be A Barge Coming Through....

So the other day, shortly before going to our Company bowling party, I decided to hit the men's room before I left. I tell you this before I continue my story. The men's bathroom door has that weird hydraulic device at the top which prevents the door from slamming shut. It's been tweaked so it takes the bathroom door a good 4-7 seconds to shut.
So I bid hello to the female receptionist and proceed to bust into the bathroom like gang busters and head immediately to the first stall to take care of all the coffee and tea I'd been slugging down for 3 hours prior. As I'm standing there, I tear off a resounding fart that sounds like the equivalent of a chain of dynamite sticks exploding in a dumpster full of pillows. Gleefully I laugh, then immediately there after, I heard the bathroom door finally shut from me entering.

Dammit.

Seeing Red Again

So as Halloween arrives and everyone is buying their crappy and/or slutty costumes for the year, I'm reminded of where I was last year at this time. In Iraq? Noooo, much worse, Kmart.

Lemme tell you alittle bit about how holiday season goes. Behind the walls and doors of your local Kmart...oh, about September or so, stock piles of Christmas crap start cumulating to crazy amounts. By December, it will be pretty much 100% of their backstock, so don't even bother asking if they are still selling lawn mowers.

Even moreso, their employees by this point have been stripped of any morale they have because Christmas not only produces the most backward a$$ f#4ks to come out of the woodwork and shop (because apparently Internet shopping is too easy for them), but also because higher management is getting a proverbial stiffy about how much $$ they're going to make in a few weeks. I can remember being on a conference call with a bunch of other managers-in-training (a.k.a. Future-alcoholics) when one of the district managers and/or sales persons said "if you're not excited about the Christmas shopping season, then you should look for a new line of work". Ironically the day before that, I had applied to a crap ton of jobs online.

Employees were also held under the scrutiny of the "mystery shopper", essentially a customer hired by corporate to come in and rate employees on appearance, knowledge, and "the ten foot rule". The ten foot rule requires employees to acknowledge all customers that come within ten feet. Huh, that's funny. I thought when I left the Army, I didn't have to salute and acknowledge people any more. These mystery shoppers nailed employees a$$es to the wall time after time, by name, for employees failing to do this...even when they did, or when they were perhaps, stocking shelves?

Also...managers weren't called managers, they were called "coaches". Which is funny because I've never been on a sports team that if the coach cut me from the team, I stopped earning a living. And coaches should be working harder then the team....Kmart upper management on Christmas eve? At home with their families. All other Kmart employees? At work dealing with urban white trash and Lushy McReturnalot.

The biggest callous I have with Kmart, is their constant saying of "shopping experience". It's never a "beer run" or a "oil run", or even a "I'm going to bring my whiny, bratty a$$ child in to make a giant mess, buy nothing, and leave run". It's a f$#king "shopping experience". I can't remember the last store I went into, why? Most likely because it was a "transparent shopping experience", not positive, not negative. I don't want employees constantly asking me if I need help, nor snapping to attention and saluting me. I don't want to see them. If I have a problem, they should be stationed at various points in the store so I can go and ask (which I never do or will..because if a store is set up right, you shouldn't need to). From the time I walk in the door, to the time I hit the register, I don't want to be talked to, touched, or catered too. Apparently Kmart execs have some form of infantilism that they feel needs to be spread throughout the land.

F-YOU KMART

Just the management & corporation and any member that "believes" in it.

"And So Stood Me By The Ho Hum Tree...."

So today is benefits renewal day at work, which concerns me that I have this much time to actually stop processing insurance paperwork and blog (booooorrrring), but I thought I'd throw down a few random thoughts I had anyway while I tredge through benefits renewal.

o The human bladder can hold, on average, about 13 oz....soo, where on earth does the 7-11 X-Treme Gulp come into play? Especially that cup being loaded with the equivlent of 4.33 sodas, or roughly an average of 520 calories worth of soda.

o I shouldn't have eaten those steam brussel sprouts last night.

o Why does it always rain when I wear my black slacks?

o I wonder if I could expense shag carpeting in my office if I argued it made people with HR oriented complaints more calm...

o In addition to eating those brussel sprouts last night, I probably shouldn't have run as hard as I did this morning at the gym.

o I bet all the attendees at the Sundance Film Festival are pretentious.

o I still haven't gotten my $100 check from Rent.com.

o I haven't had pecan pie in a really long time. Oooh, chocolate pecan pie is the best.

o I remember one of the Majors I used to work for back at Fort Leonard Wood, man that guy was a dick.

o I am really glad I don't work at Kmart anymore. Especially now that it's Christmas season and everyone turns into complete flaming retards over a single day. F those people who tried to return Christmas decorations after Christmas.

Anyway, back to administratin'.

Put This In Your Throne And Honor It

I've learned so much from TV and the Internet, and not shockingly, I'm still learning of new stuff that shocks me to no end.

A sandwich of epic porportions, I first learned of the Fool's Gold Loaf sandwich watching tv. I can't remember what show it was, but the basic gist is this. This sandwich was a favorite of Elvis, and was based in Denver. This leviathan sized sandwich used a full loaf of bread (hollowed out of course), a jar of peanut butter & jelly each, and a pound of cooked bacon. By my rough estimates, this "sandwich" would weight approximately 4.5 to 5 pounds total (pre-cooked weight).

Further more, the article cited pointed out that this sandwich contains nearly 42,000 calories. That is 21 times your daily recommended caloric intake. That would be the equivelent of eating 42 of the Jack-In-The-Box Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburgers. I would be interested in finding out the amount of fat in this sandwich, which could vary well be the side quest of my next grocery store visit.

I'm would be tempted to try eating this gargantuan sandwich for the mere bragging rights, however, my conscience tells me better for the following reasons:

- I know how much saturated fat is in a single tablespoon of peanut butter...but a whole jar? Uhm, no.

- I go to the gym regularly to avoid having seizures. I don't want to toss all that work down the drain just to have a sandwich inspired coronary.

- I feel slovenly enough after eating a regular burger, I'm sure this would rise me up to "Jabba The Hutt" rank.

Fool's Gold Loaf - The "Heart Burster" hero (sandwich)

Contentment = Defeat

People constantly ask me if I'm happy, or if I'm content with my station in life. My answer has been, and always will be "no". People often interpret this as me being pessimistic (which I pretty much am) and a big stick in the mud. Until I explain myself.

Life is much like exercise (for the lack of a better comparison). Once you're content with the way your body looks, you either plateau your work out routine, or you stop all together. If a person is always looking for a way to better themself (or as a mentor once told me "increasing my personal stock value") then they will always be completing goals, and will find a different level of satisfaction. I can't fathom someone just completing High School, then doing a 9-5 job M-F until they die. Sure, they may be 100% happy and content with what they're doing, but how does this happiness contend with joining a volunteer organization, or getting higher education?

I've never been happy because I'm always looking to gain more in life. Anything from learning something new, to getting promoted. Even surviving something stress is a tiny accomplishment to me. I couldn't imagine having a life that's completely cozy in doing the same routine for 50 odd years until you die.

Sure I get the arguement that what good is life if you can't be comfortable and happy, and sure I get the "we're all gonna die anyway" Neitzsche-esque argument (which I really like by the way). But I can pretty much counter with this, I'd rather live this life in a different state of contentment, working with others to collectively build a better machine that is life and the world, then to be just some tiny cog that never changes it's location and function, and merely just holds the right to "be" part of the machine.

I Think, Therefore, I'm Probably Annoyed

Blogging on a daily basis isn't really hard once you get into the flow things. Such as figuring out when the best time of the day to blog is, where to think up your ideas, etc. etc. etc. Given, I have taken "open gym" days on which I've either been to busy to blog or I really just didn't want to, I'm sure in a moment's notice, I can spew forth any number of things that are on my mind at any given moment. This is why I try to express my diversity of thought into post labels.

I normally do not do my best blog creation thinking while I'm sitting at my desk. Usually when I'm plugged into my desk, I'm dealing with workplace insurance nightmares, or trying to figure out certain state and federal laws as they pertain to the workplace. Sure, I could ask the lawyer we have on retainer, but that cost about a million dollars per 10 minute increment.

No, most of my thinking occurs usually when I'm on the can (I don't read all that much anyway, unless it's the instruction manual of a new game I got - and you can take that mental image to the bank), in the bathtub (yes, I'm a guy and I still take baths - But I'd like to point out I can nearly belch the entire alphabet and eat a whole pizza by myself, so they offset), or on the drive to work.

As a guideline, I prefer to keep my blog non-political because I'm sure people hear enough about that, and I try to restrain from mocking celebrities when they final get the cold, hard, hammer of ironic justice.

I guess the blog is a way of me firing off random thoughts much like radio waves fly off to who-knows-where into space. Wherever they end up, so be it. But unlike the radio waves, I don't want people to know exactly where they're coming from because you never know who's gonna get them.

"Ya Freakin' Hump!"

So in watching my most recent post of my favorite (and only) sports commontator, Fitzy, I noticed that perhaps all these years I've been wrong about a few things. The premium one to point out, is the fact that video gamers (aka "gamers") and sports fans (aka Jocks) have many things in common when "participating" in their select event. I say "participating" due to the fact that when I game, I'm actually affecting the outcome of the game. Now jocks, despite the fact that they refer to their favorite team as "we", do nothing to affect the outcome while watching their game.

All that aside, let's look at some of the things that sports fans and gamers have in common:

o The obvious one is that we both freak out and get pissed off when our team/side loses. This is most evident with sports fans by cussing, talking smack, throwing food, and ripping apart those little velcro referees. It is similiarly acted out in gamers by cussing, claiming the game cheated, and throwing their controllers.

o Both groups always try to get together to enjoy their entertainment of choice. Usually sports fans will get together at a house with a big screen, wear goofy sports apparel, eat pizza, drink beer, and hit the bathroom at half-time. Gamers, on the other hand, will usually get together at a house with a big screen (if using a gaming console), wear goofy nerd apparel, eat chips, drink Mt. Dew, and hit the bathroom between deathmatches or at every save point.

o Both groups always get overly defensive about their teams/games, and ESPECIALLY about star characters from their selected field of entertainment. Try talking smack to a Red Sox fan about Manny Ramirez, first Red Sox World Series MVP (had to google it). This would be the same as talking smack to any Halo fan about Master Chief. Further more, just as sports fans have a hard time agreeing on which generation of their favorite team played the best, gamers have a hard time agreeing on which chapter in a favorite game (i.e. Final Fantasy) was the best.

o Both groups scrutinez every detail of their sport/game. Loyal baseball fans know, for instance, every stat of every player in their favorite team, including hometown, hobbies, and favorite color. Gamers, specifically genre players (i.e. first person shooter, real time strategy) know the game down to the development history, all character histories, designer, and production teams. If they're really good, they know the type of "engine" that runs it.

o Furthermore, both groups can talk in complex languages. Just as a sports fan can tell you what a batting average of .333 means, a gamer can tell you what a 3D6+12 save means (yes, those stats are used also in video games).

So there are a few examples of how what seems to be a large wall between two groups of people is actually pretty thing.

But for the record, Master Chief can still kick anyone's a$$.

Frontier Justice: The Next Generation

So let me put on my Spock ears and Geordie visor for a second and translate an issue I have with bad drivers to Star Trek lingo.
For those most unfortunate to not speak trekkie (not trekker - that sounds dumb), the Enterprise is equipped with two weapons (Quantum Torpedos don't count...at least not with 90% of the nerds). Phasers and photon torpedos.
Phasors are pretty much just really big lasers that excel at doing superficial damange and overloading certain parts of a spaceship (i.e. engines, shields, etc). Photon torpedos are pretty much the crippling "space-kick-in-the-junk" as most spaceships don't survive more then one or two hits from these.
This being laid out, I would now like for the readers to imagine my car being outfitted with both weapon systems, and having to deal with daily Seattle traffic. This is how I would treat each one of these habitual, horrible traffic offenders:

- Throwing crap from their window - Phasor to the rear tires

- Cutting me off - Phasor to all tires

- Using the carpool lane with only one person (driver) in car - Phaser to the engine

- Using the carpool lane with the driver and a child under10 in the car - Torpedo

- Tailgating - Torpedo

- Driving too fast - Phaser to the paint job (because it's probably a very fast and nice, my-penis-is-small car)

- Driving too slow - Tractor beam them to the next exit, then phaser to the engine

- Changing lanes without signalling - Phasers to both tail lights

- Using your horn at the wrong time - Phasers to the horn (hopefully it'd get stuck blaring)

- "Baby On Board" sign - Torpedo

- "Dog is my co-pilot" sticker - Torpedo

- Any sticker promoting God, peace, or Bush - Torpedo

I'm sure there's probably many more situations I could put an action towards, but by now some people have taken offense to the fact that I'd fire a devistating weapon at a car with a baby in it. Well, be glad I didn't go with my first choice weapon being a rail gun, then there really wouldn't be any arguement now would there?

Ripe With Dispair

So in an effort to eat more healthy and stave off the burrito & ramen diet, I requested and received a vegetable steamer for my birthday. I've always shyed away from eating copious amounts of vegetables because they usually end up going bad in my fridge, or I just don't have the patience to cook them. Now I have the tools to cook them and buy them frozen.
The only problem with switching up my diet is I have yet to really look forward to eating vegetables. Don't get me wrong, there are some that are pretty good (i.e. brussel sprouts...seriously), but they're not even close to comparing to a bacon ultimate cheese burger from "crack" in the box. Seriously, comparing the a crown of broccoli to a greasy ass burger is like comparing a nickel to a block of gold bullion. Given the nickel won't clog my arteries and drastically increase my chances of cancer, sometimes the nickel just needs to stay in my pocket.
Money illiterations aside, with obesity becoming an epidemic in this nation (however, I am NOT calling it a disease....because lupus is a disease, being fat is being lazy) I'm surprised more research and products haven't been invented yet to make vegetables more appealing. We all know they're not the best things from the start, so we gotta spruce them up a bit. Hell, if fruit smoothies fit the bill of a healthy snack, why arn't there government funded smoothie booths next to every post office and federal courthouse?
We can grow a human ear on a mouse, why can't we genetically manipulate eggplant to taste like a giant french fry? How about enlisting the help of underground weed growers to further the development of hydroponics and grow super spuds? Someone's already started trying to make this better, how about carrot cake? Who the hell thought about creating a cake/carrot hybrid?
What I know is this, vegetables are good, beef tastes better, and American's are getting mega fat. Some strategy might be needed to even out the leaf v. moo battle. Although I disagree with the governments ability to tell me what I can and can't eat (i.e. transfatty acids...you bastards), I DO agree that without the firm, health boot of uncle Sugar up the bloated bums of Americans to eat better, I'm pretty positive the incidence of heart disease and skyrocketing insurance rates are bound to occur.

Eat your greens fatty! I'm tired of paying your health bills!

Allow Me To Flatten That Tire For You

As per a usual poet or writer, I find myself best able to write when I'm dealing with a certain level of daily stress. Today has fallen short of that valuable resource, so once again (although limited), I find myself running severely low on blog/creative juice.

To make sure no one suffers from my shortcomings as a blogger, please enjoy this video on how a rather large piece of machinery digs tunnels. Gotta learn something new everyday right?

I Will Pay Full Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain

So I've come to expect this issue early on, as noted in previous posts, but it didn't really sink in until I was playing Halo 3 last night. The connection between anonyminity, and the amount of kids (and I do mean teen and below) who talk that absolute maximum amount of smack during game play.
I'm sure there's some abstract connection with guys who own fast cars to compensate for other shortcomings and such, but the fact that they equate the ability to play Halo as being grounds to be better then others just plain eludes me.
The scenario in question occurred shortly before the end of a team based battle round where the objective is simply to kill people on the other side. Right as the round is ending and the scores have been finalized, I noticed a Humvee with a turret mounted in the back (known as a Warthog) and a player from the opposing team manning it. Before he could notice me, I promptly lobbed a grenade under the vehicle, which 99% of the time, kills at least one occupant, and flips the vehicle a$$ over teakettle. Lob one - no dice. Grenade goes off, opponents personal shield flashes, he notices me, and turns to start firing. Second grenade away with a higher chance of killing him because his shields must be failing right now.. no dice. Grenade goes off, opponent keeps firing. At this point, the kills are no longer being counted, so my game-skill level can't be affected if I die, so I do a crazy charge with nothing but the standard rifle you start with and obviously bite it quickly (never charge a gatling gun in the open - both in life and in video games - you will looooooooooose). I was surprised to see that he didn't fall even after two grenades and a hail of semi-accurate bullets. Immediately after this, I can hear him calling me a "little b*tch". I know it was him because a speaker icon flashes above any player when they're talking (because usually, you can only hear your team). So he calls me this not once, but twice. I followed up post game with what I usually do to showboating teeny-boppers, I mark him down to avoid playing him in any future games, then went a step further to "report" him to Microsoft as communicating vulgar and inappropriate language.
Given, I could have take then standard approach adopted by most of Halo's fan base and called him a slang name for a homosexual, or a f#$ker, but I didn't. Why? Pointless. Extra why? Because I'm pretty solid in the belief that were we actually playing in the same room, he wouldn't call me that. And if he did, the next "little b*tch" he tried to utter subsequently would be muffled by his own ass.
All this aside, don't get me wrong. Most (75%-85%) of the people that play Halo probably get upset with the game sometimes (I know I do), and usually vocalize a "good game" at the end of each round, regardless of winning or not. I take issue with the 13 year old who thinks they're king shit because they're able to pull off moving sniper shots and survive around with only dying once. This usually indicates to me that these kids meet the following critera:

1) They stay home from school to specifically game. Parents? You fail.

2) They have ego/self-esteem issues that are projected and replaced elsewhere. Parents? You fail.

3) They don't understand the idea behind good sportsman ship, and more importantly, respecting the opposing team which is ultimately responsible for making them better gamers/fighters. Parents? You fail.

4) They have never been engrained with a sense of humility. Apparently the saying "pride cometh before a fall" has never crossed them in school. Teachers? You fail....but only when they're in your classroom, and not being allowed to stay home and game. Parents, you are complete failures.

So in summary, I will continue to humor being called names by complete strange teenagers as I play a game I pay to play monthly. World being perfect? I'd reenact the last scene out of "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back", find each of their addresses, introduce myself as my gamertag, and pummel the stink off their a$$es.

Until then, even if they are good, they still die in the game eventually, and when they do, I'll be there to give them more tea then the Boston Tea Party.

Great Globs Of Fire

Addressing the issue of hot sauce today, I'd like to point out that I am not in fact a food snob. Booze snob yes, food snob no.

Hot sauce is something I've recently grown fond of thanks to a Seattle friend, and I put it on nearly everything. Pasta, pizza, and even in my can of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni. It zings up everything and clears out the sinuses. I usually use Tapatio, and carry a bottle in my backpack at all times should I ever counter something bland on my way to work (this idea stolen from Don Vito from Bam Margera's show).

The thing I don't understand is when makers of hot sauce make the stuff unbearably hot. Somehow, they find a way to condense so much of the hot stuff (called capsicum) which happens to also be the active ingredient in pepperspray, and put it into a bottle. I'm all for a good burn, even getting put up in the Seattle's Wing Dome "Wall of Flame" for eating a #7 out of 7 level spicy wing, but I'm not all about eating sauce where one drop will literally send me into convulsions all the while I attempt to flood my mouth with 3 gallons of milk. And speaking from experience, I've done this. My first and only encounter with "too much sauce" was cooking one night while in a semi-drunken stupor. I decided to make ramen (per usual) and was out of Tapatio. I used a bottle of hot sauce the Seattle friend gave me (called "Dave's Insanity Sauce") and put two drops in my ramen. Shortly after eating it, I began to sweat profusely and my tongue started to register an extreme tingle. It wasn't long before I was pulling the Dumb and Dumber move of attepting to hose off my tongue under a faucet.

Until this had happened, the only inanimate objects I had ever cussed at were things I stubbed my toe on, and things I bumped my head on. This bottle got the very pointless but very satisfying end of my verbal 2 x 4.

Freakin' hot sauce!

Creepin' Up On Ya

I'm declaring my first major blogging victory today. I noticed that I am the #1 Google search hit for "That's how long I've been on ya". Apparently there are quite a few people out there that love Kanye West's music enough to look up the lyrics. And it just so happened that I pushed him out of spot #1 by quoting his song title.

Takin' the Internet, one search item at a time.

Cyber-Suck

So after spending half an hour typing a well thought out blog entry, blogger ate it. So I've decided to pull the "computer cop out" and not try to retype the whole thing. Instead I'll leave you with this thought:

Why do pickled cucumbers get to be called "pickles", where as anything else that gets pickled (i.e. beets, eggs, famous French explorers) get called "pickled beets, eggs, Ponce De Leon".

Discuss

Clip-On's Don't Make Them Any Less Irritating

So other then the occasional wearing of a tie with my Class B uniforms in the Army, I rarely have worn a tie except for my time at Kmart.

Shortly after the Kmart/Sears merger (Kmart claims they bought Sears...however I think it's funny that Kmart is adopting all Sears Operating Procedures), the Kmart managers went from having to wear a solid blue/red shirt (can't remember which color), and starting wearing slacks and button up shirts with ties. You'll notice this being similar to what most Sears employees wear.

Aside from my complete pissing and moaning that it is impossible to do a freight oriented retail job wearing this hokey outfit, I realized that I may have committeed a social faux pas while I was there. At the start, I kept my tie on rotation. I had about four ties that I rotated through. I'm not big on them, and still can barely actually tie them, so I didn't hassle too much with them. After a while when the charm wore off, I just stuck to the same tie. It was a black and red tie that had a super subtle checker pattern (I detest patterned ties). I wore it everyday I worked, and never really thought about tie etiquette when it comes to cleaning/wearing. I understand that it may look odd, but is there a requirement to wash it every so often? I kept it clean, and obviously never sweat on it. Hmmm.

Well, all that said, ties suck.

Repeat = Necessity

In a recent bout of laxity towards going to the gym, I've come to realize there is alot we do in our lives, that we should only have to make an effort to do really good a few times. The perfect example is a wedding. People plan like hell to have one, it turns out good (sometimes), and for the rest of their lives, they can prattle on about their "perfect wedding". There are many things where our efforts are not reflected for a long period of time. Sure things we constantly do may affect us in the short term, but for some reason, people accept the fact that they have to do somethings pretty forever.

For example:

Going To The Gym - I've probably logged more gym/exercise hours in the past 9 years then any average Amercian has spent doing something to save the environment in their entire life. Why is it I still have to go with regularity? I understand how biology works, but I would submit that if life were truly just, I could hit the gym as hard as I did for five years, and spend the rest of my life eating steak fat and brown gravy, and still be sporting a six pack and a muscular back.

Going To The Bathroom - Once again, biology aside, am I the only one who gets tired of going to the bathroom? Studies show that the average person spends about three years in the bathroom. I can certainly imagine better ways of using my time.

Waiting In Line - As a new law, I would propose that all lines, no matter where, are assorted into reverse chronological order, with the eldest at the front. Why? Because they've spent more time waiting in line then you, and I'm pretty sure they're totally done with it.

Going To The Dentist - I only say this because everytime I go, I seem to have a brand new cavity. I'm not sure how that's possible seeing as how I have little to no original tooth space left after all the fillings I've had so far. I guess the only real way to get around this is to get dentures...but then you've got a new set of problems.

I don't feel above anything like this, I just believe that certain tasks that have no limit of effort are questionable at best.

'It's Cocaine In A Can Baby!"

So every morning, in lieu of coffee, I tend to get my energy jolt from a big heaping helping of energy drink. This usually helps in getting the morning started right, but makes me a twitchy zombie by about 2pm (blog time).

Along side with the fact that it helps me get my day off with a boost, I've also heard that it reduces damage being done to the liver from certain substances (i.e. alcohol). I'm not 100% as to whether that's true or not, but I'd be pretty damn lucky if by pure incident, Red Bull was pushing Everclear back out of my liver.

"..That's How Long I've Been On Ya..."

Over the weekend, I had the (mis) fortune of doing the "Pioneer Square Loop", and visiting several bars and clubs. For those unfamilar to Pioneer Square in Seattle, it's the oldest part of the city, and also the collection of all the preppy, trendy, overpriced, too-loud, meat market clubs. The bars weren't bad, but the club we visited reminded me of a high school dance that'd been aged 20 years and mixed with crappy liquor. So the night went like this:

Stop 1 - The "Typhoon! Thai Resturant - First, I'm always a bit weary of eating at a resturant that is named after a life taking natural disaster. I'm sure nobody would eat at the "Ebola Hot Zone Wing Dome!", at least I hope they'd reconsider first. The food itself wasn't bad, but possibly a bit overpriced. Thai food is good because it's spiciness is very customizable, and it fills you up quick. I later came to find out it also is a better alcohol cushion in your stomach then greasy fast food. Not bad Typhoon, not bad.

Stop 2 - The "Zig Zag Cafe" - By no means of the imagination is this place a cafe. It's a smaller, jazzier bar with a short cocktail list and a creepy, Saw-esque bathroom. Not bad place, given the constant jazz music and the pricy drinks. The upside of this place was the extremely strong drinks, however, the additional downside was the fact that the extremely strong drinks tasted extremely like crap. I actually had a cocktail made from Aquavit that tasted like absinthe. Gross.

Stop 3 - The "Alibi Room" - The first thing I noticed and liked about this bar was the fact that it was dark as hell. Dimly lit ownly by a sparce amount of scattered lights, until my eyes focused, I tried reading the menu using my cell phone as a backlight. The longisland wasn't over powering which was good, and the service was fairly decent. They were also johnny-on-the-spot with the water, which was good because I wanted to be able to drive home at the end of the night.

Final Stop - "Heaven's Night Club" - Let's just say, the name doesn't fit the bill. The group had reserved a "VIP room", which wasn't a room by any stretch of the imagination. They had roped off an elevated portion of the dance floor, and built "rooms" out of see through curtains (probably to discourage alittle at-club bam bam). In each of these "rooms" was one to two couches and a table that had a built in cooler. The tables also came with a tray of glasses, straws, and a carafe of orange juice and cranberry juice. We ordered a bottle of vodka for the table, which the waitress had to lock up in the table after she poured us drinks every time (understandable as state law prohibits the actual selling of bottles beyond the liquor store, and I'm sure there's a law prohibiting bar patrons from serving themselves). The rest of the night went per usual as they do at meat market clubs. Lots of loud music, people screwing on the dance floor, a toilet glazed in vomit (being the only one free for me), guys being pigs, women being pissy, and someone getting us kicked out because they barked on the couches...which is good because I wanted to leave anyway.

I'm not a real big dancer, and I sure as hell am not big on meat market clubs.

Irish bars all the way!

Not Even The Facts Ma'am

Over the past few days, I've been dealing with alot of questions and answers, mostly pertaining to benefits and some policies in the company I work for. Well, I figured everyone loves answers and info, so I thought I'd share them with ya'll. Let's see if you can guess the question that spawned it:

- The annual employee contribution limit is $15,000 per year.

- Yes, our medical plan does cover certain aspects of mental diagnosis and treatment.

- No, even though it's a Federal holiday, we do not get Columbus day off

- Yes, liquid lunches are still frowned upon regardless of the pending policy

And with that, on to the weekend.

"...Crazy Idea About Breeding Pine Trees..."

This day has started off slow, but then went super weird, super quick. I find it difficult to prattle on about my heros, heroines, rants, and WTF's when my thoughts and efforts are "all asunder".

So please enjoy this link of LOLCat

WTF 24 Hour Fitness?

So let's take a minute to direct some well earned fire onto 24 Hour Fitness. This morning I discovered, that after doing so for a month, 24 Hour Fitness will no longer allow me to host a guest in for free, even after I was told I could do so for up to three months as a new member. I didn't get a "okay, there has been a change in policy, so next time have your $15 ready", I got the "no money no workie". Let's dissect this further. I'm a paying member. I paid $300 in one shot to become a member (first month, last month, concurrent month, "registration fee"-whatever the s#*t that is -->Bear in mind, I registered online), I'm there at 6am sans wallet, the gym is almost completely empty, and I'm being told I can host a guest because the policy suddenly changed. Awesome. I could understand if the gym was busy or if the policy had never existed, or if there was some "supply" of some tangible item that the gym provided that a customer (or guest) would use, such as eating at a resturant...but there isn't.
Bearing in mind that I'm a person that has grown up on policies and lines in the sand, this was pure crap.
Furthermore, NO, I do not need a body fat test, or a personal trainer to help me. Mostly for the fact that I've been on an exercise program for the better part of 10 years, but not only that, because I don't want to have the body type of half of their personal trainers, because most of them have a wee bit of a gut on them.

WTF 24 Hour Fitness! I'm only sticking with you because if I can stand a gym on a remote base in Iraq (that had almost better equipment), I can stick with this.

Here are some links to other unhappy customers.

Grumpy #1

Grumpy #2

Grumpy #3

So They Call It An Idiot Box

So far be it from me to say I don't talk smack during video games, or occasionally freak out when I get killed. We all do, it's all the part of being a guy. I have never played a video game with another guy who didn't freak alittle when he got his butt kicked relentlessly.

However, I make it a point never to freak either in public, or especially when I have a headset on, which broadcasts to everyone else playing. I fired up some Halo 3 last night and wasn't playing multiplayer for 20 minutes when I was told by a 12 year old I was "pwned". Unfortunately for this kid, I have a very vindictive streak which overcomes my lack of Halo 3 prowess.

Enter the bazooka, aka "all-killer", to which I then engaged my tactic of running up to him and blowing us both up. Despite the fact that I was killing myself, every time I killed him (usually after obtaining alot of weaponry), I got the satisfaction of hearing him freak the hell out. Following the end of the game (and his delicious crying), I went to player options and gave him negative feedback, thusly allowing me never having to play him again. Very excellent feature all at Microsoft.

At anyrate, enough nerd speak, and back to the picture of

Cristina Scabbia.