"...I Hate This Freakin' Cat..."

I know using a LOLCat picture two entries in a row is tacky, I simply had no other choice.

The reason for this is due to my visit to the parents house in Idaho over the weekend. I've discovered just how close to evil their cat is. If you go to youtube and run a search for "angry cat"...if you can somehow imagine that multiplied by at least 10, that would be their cat.

Long story short, the cat ended up getting out of the house (indoor cat), and rather then watch my aging parents attempt to catch him, I took it upon myself to try to rope him in. This was a huge mistake. Despite the fact the cat has no front claws, he's made it very apparent that his teeth will serve him very well when needed.

After pinning the cat who is freaking out to the ground, the only way to transfer him back to the house is via cardboard box. Before we're able to literally box the cat up, he managed to not only bite both of my thumbs several times...but also somehow manipulated himself into dooking all over my hand.

Now honestly, I've never choked out an animal before, so although temping, I guess I can strike that off my list of firsts after this event. I would have worried about permanently injuring the cat, however, every time I loosened my death grip around the cats neck, his tail would once again start swinging rapidly and he would start growling like no tomorrow.

Fast forward two days later, and the cat still hates me as much as he did prior to us going toe to toe. I can't (literally) look at him, say his name, or stand withing 10 feet of him without him rearing up, hissing, and swinging at me.

This cat would truly make both PETA and the ASPCA rethink their organizational purposes.

Back From Whence I Came

Heading back to Idaho to visit the parents for the weekend. Due to the short duration of the trip, I don't plan on having anyone come to check on the cats...I plan to do the old standby of leaving out copious amounts of water and food bowls instead.

And despite how disgusting it may be, the paranoid me will also leave the toilet lid up.

At Least My Island Has An Arcade

Ironically while I was passing time today during the mid-morning, coffee induced sprint the bathroom..I reflected on my time in Iraq and how I dealt with essentially being alone to myself vs. how everyone else dealt with it.

Other then my 12 hour a day workshift for almost the entire 10 months, I had no interaction with anyone when not at in the operation center. I went back to my trailor (which I lived in by myself), I usually ate my sandwich in solitude while watching various DVD's such as Family Guy or the "Away From Home" video special from Evanescence. I then followed it up with video games until about 10. The following morning at 330, I'd wake up, go to the gym, and come back and take a nap. I got up for the gym so early because #1 no one was in the gym at that time and #2 I could bathe alone AND actually have hot water.

My peers on the other hand pretty much resorted to fraternizing with the enlisted folk, ended up screwing loud enough for me to know exactly what positions they were in, and on occasion...throwing hissy fits about their general situation at that point.

To which I remember saying something at one point after getting back to my trailor after an especially "wah-wah, I am pissy" day by not only my fellow Captains, but the Major I worked for as well. Something to akin of being surrounded by a bunch of 5 year old who'd lost their security blanket and had dirt rubbed in their hair.

Army of One my a$$.

Few Things To Grow On

I try to make it a point to learn at least something new each day. Today, I was (un)fortunate to learn two things.

Lesson #1 - I've learned that in a building with 20+ stories in it, there's generally two banks of elevators. Each of these banks generally contain about 3-5 elevators. Each bank of these 3-5 elevators only service a certain number of floors (i.e. Floors 1-17). After stepping into the wrong elevator with other people going to floor 21 and up (I was going to floor 17), I looked at both panels of buttons realizing that they did not contain floor 17, and got off. I went to the next elevator, same deal....floors 20-35, but no 17. Only then did I realize that these elevator banks were separated by an entire hallway. Twice the dumba$$!

Lesson #2 - San Pellegrino tastes like I licked the inside of a geyser. I mean seriously who drinks water that tastes like a a mouthful of nickels, sand, and salt? Blech. Nasty crap.

This Was Easier When It Was Shoot/Don't Shoot

So I've got a bit of a quandary on my hand. I actually had to messenger in my oldest brother to gather his sage advice about what I should do and found it was really helpful. I generally excel at having an answer within moments, but occasionally the elements applying to the situation lead me astray.

I've found in my past experiences that usually responding to a problem is usually the same. I immediately know the right answer, but then my second guessing completely erodes it back in favor of the wrong answer. Not only did this attribute to my colossally bad ACT scores (although, the classroom was a frosty 60 degrees during testing), but it also made me a giant stressful wreck when working the road in my law enforcement experiences.

Fortunately, in law enforcement, the first decision you make generally has to be right. Because everything after the initial point of contact is usually all paperwork and procedure. So I guess I've been lucky so far.

I Don't Know Who Is Worse Off.....

So the dates and details of the trip to Vegas at the end of July has been finalized. My two brothers will be meeting me down there, one flying in from Southern Idaho, and the other, Western New York (looong flight).

It's very rare that we all three assemble in the same location, as obviously we're well spread out, and copious amounts of crap to do in our own lives. However, in the rare occasion that we do all link up, I like to think of it as a figurative "familial Voltron".

Oldest brother would most likely be considered the brains of the operation. He's been to Vegas before (while middle brother and I have not), he knows the territory pretty well, and knows what spots to see and avoid.

Middle brother brings both the cynicism and the resistance to intoxicants. Serious, I don't think I could ever fathom going toe to toe with him because I'm positive I would loose. Despite my constant run-ins with Everclear, he downs Jack like it's water. Yeesh.

So I guess that leaves me, and all I bring to the table is a curiosity to do stupid things. Beyond being 2nd in the lead for best drinker, I have a bad habit of getting into some sh#t when I get toasty...so I'll try to dial down the stupid...at least for that weekend.

Some Days The Reverse Would Just Be Awesome

http://view.break.com/521743

On days like today where I essentially have sent about three emails, this is what I wish everyday would end on.

Self Appointed Tasks Are A Gas, Gas, Gas

(Editors Note: This is not an actual picture from our company party)

Today I had the unduely task to figure out how this years Company picnic is going to go down.
Last Year's picnic was actually a larger success then I had planned, despite the fact that we had copious amounts of leftover food...probably because I was trying to not go over or under the budget of $1500 for approximately 40 people.

Personally, I wanted to scrap the whole thing, rent a party bus, and just drive around until we were all crappy....but somehow I don't believe my HR position would lend itself to me selling that idea...which honestly is the funner of the two.

My Memory Lane Has Bear Traps

Went out to lunch today with a bunch of coworkers in an effort for everyone in the workplace to get a bit more social.

Per usual, I've never been one to strike up lively conversations in the offensive mode. I'm just not that guy. Not the kind of guy sitting on an airplane, or standing in an elevator, or even...so help me, the guy in the urinal next to you, that will just fire up a conversation about sports or the economy or whatever pointless oxygen burn session any human can fire off. Just not me...occasionally, when I'm toasty enough...it might happen.

At any rate, letting my conversation run away on me. Today at lunch, I began to space out amid my Kung Pao Chicken and my Spicy Noodles and somehow remembered something embarrassing that happened to me. I don't know about other people, but it always seems with me that I tend to shutter...visibly when I remember such horrific incidents as being shut down by a girl in public or so on and so on.

I don't believe anyone saw me reflecting because it was a pretty traumatic incident ,and I shuttered enough to spill a lot of soy sauce all over my plate. Epic.

And no...I wouldn't dream of posting that kind of stuff on here. It's so bad that I wouldn't even trust my own blogger anonymity to it. ;)

You'll Never See Me Dance

One of the most key traits that a leader (and more importantly, and HR goober like me) can have is the ability to be unflappable in all instances.

I developed this trait into a gift from Heaven during the Army when I had several superiors that felt it was a great leadership move to berate me in front of my subordinates. I was known as the Captain who was take a severe a$$ chewing from the Major, and just reply with "huh...roger sir". To the point where my boss would look like his brain is going to fire out both ears, I look as though I was attending a lecture on astrophysics in the front row.

Now being in the land of civilians, this "unflappable" trait has drastically retooled itself into something different. In HR, you still have to keep your professional guard up. I make it a point not to gossip, not to swear, and never to discuss politics, money, and religion. I've had a couple employees get upset in my direct (as I am the messenger), but nothing I couldn't easy shrug off.

Where I test my unflap the most is when I get to slam dunk an employee (or ex-employee) when they attempt to either go against Company policy, or even better, attempt to tell me I'm doing my job wrong.

There has been more then one instance where I've had the opportunity to absolutely embarrass someone who has told me I was wrong to the point they'd question their existence as a human, but sadly, this is where I have to take comfort in the fact that I won and let them bow out graceful.....

...then go to my office, shut the door, and yell "who's your daddy!" as I hump the air repeatedly.

Some Times You Feel Like A Blog...

....but today I don't!

(However...it is important to note that this glass represents the amount of alcohol I drank Friday night....albeit if the glass was as tall as I was....)

Time For A Drank

fig. 1-1 So that's what Crunk means....

Now that the matchbox apartment has been set up, it's time for a house warming party. I haven't been the actual organizer of a party since college, and it was several things that I believe generally steered me away from doing such things:

1) The Fake Out - The organizer is always the most excited one to be having the house party. No matter how much your friends like you, they will alway be alittle less excited to go, because let's be honest...if they blow you off...there's nothing at stake. I've never taken issue with friends that couldn't attend for any reason...it's the magic "I might show up" that just sends me into a downward spiral into anger. Essentially, this four word phrase is just covering the actual phrase of "I'm most definately not going to come tonight, but instead, I'll act like the intent to come is there with a half-commital answer, then I'll tell you how I got lost on my way there tomorrow morning while you're barfing in a garbage can, telling me how fun it is between heaves".

2) The Chaos Potential - Much like a tidal wave or a multicar pile up on a busy freeway in winter, the potential for a house (or in this case apartment) party to get out of hand is beyond the realm of imagination. You have to figure for every person you invite, they will invite at least one other person. Those without manners will be ones who get invited by an original invitee, then turns around and invites someone else (who would be, in this case, invited twice removed). Bottom line, you really have to pick your invitees and monitor them closely unless you have an enormous house in which you can fill up a lawn or two. In this case, if we get too many, I'll just stack the drunk ones in the bathtub like cord wood.

3) The Yack Factor - I would say of all the house parties I attend, I have about a 90% success rate of seeing people heave before the night is through. Although this is always brought on by successive shots of bottom shelf liquor, there's only one other constant. The cookies that are indeed tossed always end up anywhere but an easily cleaned tiled surface. Usually on a carpet, maybe in a sink...hell, I even have one friend (Broggin') who told me the heroic tale of how he puke-and-rallied in some homeowners washing machine. Epic.

4) Breakage - Something always gets broken. Doesn't matter if it's just a glass, a piece of furniture, someone's heart, etc.etc.etc....something always gets broken.

5) The Post Party Fog - No matter how well you've prepared, in the morning, there is always an unusual fog which is the combination of party floor* and leftover half empty drinks. This smell will permiate everything and can usually only be removed through good ventilation and burning about 10 pounds of popcorn.

I guess I can't complain. I know at least most of these risks and it's happening anyway. Let's just see what happens when I toss Everclear into the mix with a bunch of rubbing alcohol noobies.

*Party Floor: Par-ty Floor - \par-tee floore\- noun; Etymology-Sophmore Year of College from too much drinking;

1) The state of a kitchen floor or other tiled surface that has become sticky or tacky to the touch due to copious amounts of liquor, snacks, and/or bodily fluids being spilled and left to set over a period of one night.

Evil On Evil With Evil On The Side

Went out drinking last week in an effort to locate the local watering holes that serve semi cheap beer. Stumbled upon a place called the "Twilight Exit" where I discovered this marvel.

Allow me shed light on my poor camera phone picture. You're looking at chicken fried bacon. Yep. Don't need to read it twice. This big pile of saturated goodness was served with a side of country gravy.

Did I need to order it? No. I ate dinner and had already ordered a HUGE plate of nachos. However, out of sheer morbid disgust for what this could do to the human body, I had to try it.

And the verdict is: it was f**king tasty. Given I might have used up a weeks worth of my Recommended Daily Allowance of sodium and fat, this was pretty much the best tasting bar food I've had. It's not designed to fill you up when you get the munchies...(like nachos), but it's designed to go awesome with your beer.

And yes, I could hear one of my arteries slamming shut the instant I bit down on a piece.

Finally...A Gender Battle Line We Can Both Appreciate!

Calling upon the strength of Fitzy to fire off the WTF-Guns (I'm too tired...intervals today at the gym), the Sex In The City movie has been unleashed on the world and I still can't fathom a guy that would be willing to go see that.

Now for obvious reasons, I would propose immediately banishment from the straight, male niche that the world currently has for any man who goes to see this movie, even at the risk of being cut off for God know's how long. Do I question a studio's desire to make a movie that is guarenteed only to appeal to women? Yes. Does the fact that it opened to $55.7 million at the box office make me even more disturbed? F**k yes.

As a man that holds very dear to his convictions, I haven't seen the movie, but I'll sure as hell pass judgement on it now. Let's see....what would this movie be about? Could it be......boozing and boning? Yep. Anything else? Probably a bunch of chick banter about boobs, dongs, commitment, friendship and blah blah blah blah blah.

And to compound the issue, as I previously discussed, even the "actresses" in this movie (and show) have little or no appeal except only to women and mega-gay men. And yes, I still hold true to my conviction that Sarah Jessica Parker is absolutely, positively, without a question that Mars is red, not attractive to straight men. Don't believe me? Check this out.

As for you men out there that went and saw this film. I don't care if you saw it because you lost a bet, or was promised more nookie in the sack, or even if you're one of those artsy types that believes that everything should be given a shot...you might as well pickle your nuts in a jar and hand them over, because you have failed as a man.

To plan for future such films, I'll be waiting outside the theatre doors with a bat to prevent any further men from having to turn in their goods for such an atrocity.

How Quiet Is Too Quiet?

So I've gotten my wish long after our company has been acquired. I'll be hopefully gaining more rights, responsibilities, and obligations under my own company if the HR at the parent company grants it. The reverse side of this, is how it's going to be decided.

I received a conference call request from my HR counterpart at parent company, which CC'd their head of HR, to discuss with me "a list of what I currently do, what I'm used to doing, and what I'd like to do." I believe the short answers to those are "not as much as I used to do, alot more then what I'm doing now, and anything ya'll can give me!"

My fear that this has gone from the "what other responsibilities can you handle" idea to the "you need to justify your paycheck" is bouncing in the back of my mind, but I think I'm safe to this point. We'll just have to see.

And at any point if I think the conference call is heading south, I'll just yell "babba booie! Babba booie! Howard Stern's Penis! Babba booie!"

*I blame you Family Guy

It Was Never Supposed To Be Like This

Azurael is a cold person.
Azurael thrives on cynicism and anger.
Azurael is highly resistant to empathy and sorrow.

Azurael hides things well.

Bless Epic Bachelor Couches Everywhere

Thanks to the new cell phone, I'm actually able to take pictures now and email them to myself with relative ease.

With that said, I present the Epic Bachelor couch. A divine sitting device I picked up inside a week of reporting to duty at Fort Leonard Wood. This couch has served me well, mostly for napping and gaming since 2001. This 8+ foot beast has conquered movers, walls it's bumped into, and even weathered the two cats. Nicknamed "Edgar" in it's remaining days, I wish I had moved to a bigger place that I could have kept a hold of this faithful monster just a few more years.

Unfortunately that was not the case. And in the fact that I couldn't even give this away on Craigslist, I did what any reluctant sofa owner would do. I had a friend come over, saw the f**ker in half, and help me stuff it into a 6 foot dumpster. I'm pretty sure I didn't break any illegal dumping laws, and saved myself $20 in the process.

I hope you rest as well as I have rested on you my dear couch "Edgar"...I will always miss your constantly shifting cushions.

There Is Hope After All

Okay, so despite that I have a love/hate/hate relationship with 24 Hour Fitness, and blogged about it here, and here, ... and here, I might have to suspend my WTF guns from firing any further because I witnessed something grand this morning.

Now that I've moved, I'm using a different gym then the one I've been using for the past 2+ years. The 24 Hour Fitness I go to now is located in downtown Seattle, and it is pretty much a beacon to me now that I've seen what wonders behold.

Initially I wasn't stoked, because parking is almost impossible to locate. However, once I got in, I could swear I heard the Hallelujah song playing while my jaw dropped as if someone was showing me a to-scale replica of the city of Boston built entirely of Skittles. I was shocked.

The first thing that initially hit me was treadmills. Rows, and rows, and ROWS of treadmills. Even at peak hours, I couldn't fathom this army of treadmills ever being full. And beyond that, a crap ton of other cardio machines to compliment said treadmills. Imagine a football field filled with cadio equipment, now that was just the ground floor.

After my 30 minute stint running, I ventured around to see what other wonders were about. Going up the stairs, I found a large matted surface on which apparently people should stretch and whatever. "Meh", I thought as I decided to go back down and take the stairs leading down. Beneath the army of treadmills, one floor below, laid half a full sized pool and an equally large army of weight lifting equipment! I believe the only words I could sum up this site was "holy sh$t on toast!"

Now bear in mind, years and years of military gyms that are underfunded and sparsely equipped for anything. The Army is built on the idea that all exercises can be done with little to no additional equipment.

But not this 24 Hour Fitness. I looked at this gym almost like it was taunting me to come in and destroy it's treadmills.

And on equal note, the patrons. Unlike the unholy 24 Hour Fitness I had been previously going through, made up entirely of ancient people and mild fatties, this place was sporting patrons the likes of which I'd never witnessed en mass. Everyone I saw save one on a treadmill was actually running. People weren't reading papers, or lying down, or talking on the phone...they were sweating as if their lives depended on it.

I think this was the bandage I needed to put faith back into my somewhat slumping work out regime. It's good to see that so many people are still interested in being healthy, that early in the morning, and know that walking on treadmills is absolutely pointless.

Moving Blows Regardless

Moved yesterday with the help of actual movers. I decided last year, probably at the point where I was attempting to wrestle an 8 foot couch up four flights of stairs, that I would never move myself again.

Despite the fact that everything was boxed, organized, and ready to be rolled out...the issue of being on the 3rd floor and moving to a 2nd floor still spun the clock counter to my favor. I ended up coughin' up approximately $430 for the move at $92/hour, but it was still worth it. I didn't have to move anything, and the only hard part about it was the fact that I really wanted to help them move, but thought it would probably be inappropriate and tacky should I ask. I mean after all, they were getting paid by the hour.

Beyond that, I finally booked my trip to Vegas today for later in the summer to meet my brethren down there. One's coming from Idaho, and the other, the distant state of New York. It's been a while since we've all seen each other (i.e. the "Trifecta of Chaos"), so this'll be a pretty outstanding vacation.