Rediscovered love

I just remembered how much I like Catherine Wheel. I have all the albums on my laptop it seems. I'm listening to Sparks are gonna fly right now. I think this was their first song I heard, and identified with the band name. I also have fond memories of listening to the Happy Days album while walking around Barcelona. I think Barcelona was primarily a Collective Soul city though. I dunno why, but that's the way it was. However this post is about my love for Catherine Wheel. That's all I got though. I had forgotten how much I liked this band, and now I remember. Now I'm thinking about all the places I associate with certain bands. I always listened to Modest Mouse in the train on the way back from Rome, but on the train to Rome my musical choice would vary. I can't seem to think of any more at the moment, but whatever I'm tired of typing anyway.

Obligatory post

I just realized that I can't spell worth shit. I'm a pretty decent scrabble player, but I think I would be a lot better if I could spell. I'm lucky you only have 7 letters to work with in that game. Anyway I figured I can't really post a reply on my friend's website regarding the frequency of his posting, and not post something myself without being a complete hypocrite. Funny I looked the word up, and it seems I am a complete hypocrite.

hyp·o·crite Audio Help /ˈhɪpəkrɪt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[hip-uh-krit] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun

1.	a person who pretends to have virtues, moral or religious beliefs, principles, etc., that he or she does not actually possess, esp. a person whose actions belie stated beliefs.

2.	a person who feigns some desirable or publicly approved attitude, esp. one whose private life, opinions, or statements belie his or her public statements.

Publicly I pretend to be a well mannered polite individual when in fact I'm an ill mannered jerk. Actually publicly I'm an ill mannered jerk most of the time, so this means I'm still only a partial hypocrite. Go me.

Anyway I'm posting here, and I'll be honest I don't really have anything to post about. I've really got nothing. I was thinking the other day about posting a rant about people who don't look where they're walking, but I kinda lost my ire. It's hard to rant without any ire. I've got nothing else, so let's give it a shot.

Seriously what the fuck is wrong with people? I can somewhat understand a person who backs up, and accidently bumps into you. I don't enjoy this person's blunder, but I can accept it as an honest mistake. However people who walk into you from the front are completely inexcusable. There is absolutely no fucking justification for this act of retardation. I'm not talking about pushing past someone. That's fucking rude, but you can possibly justify it. I do it sometimes because I'm a jerk. However walking into somebody because you ARE NOT LOOKING WHERE YOU ARE GOING is just one of the stupidest things you can do. Seriously I don't care how fucking exciting the ground, sky or that wall are. You have eyes that enable you to see. When you are in transit use those eyes to observe where you are going. It sounds simple enough, but so many retards are guilty of this crime. I wish I had a stabbing instrument on me for times like this.

I wish I had more for this rant, but I think I got my point across. I'm not really satisfied with the overall rant because I feel lacks ire. This was a good chance for me to see what a rant without true motivation looks like. I'm going to post this anyway because it'd be a waste of time otherwise, and I'm just too fucking lazy to edit it later. I think I'm at my most pithy when I'm really pissed off at something, and I'm feeling pretty mellow today. Maybe I should've gone for deep and/or introspective in this post, but I really wasn't feeling that either.

Starting a cult

I've decided I need to start a cult. A cult following is precisely what my life requires at this time. I figure I just need some land in Montana or something and I need to build the "compound". The problem is funding. When people join a cult they usually give up all their worldly possessions and money to the cult right? This way am I better off to just subjugate a wealthy Montana landowner, or a number of peons of lesser status who I can use as slaves to build my cult empire? I also need a focus for my cult. What are we about? Are we prophesying doom, gloom or perhaps a healthy combination of the two? How am I to handle the ritual suicide at the end? I mean poison koolade has already been done. Maybe I could just have everyone just dig their own grave, or a giant mass grave then upon completion just lie down inside. Then I could just drive a backhoe over the top filling them all back in. That would certainly make cleanup a breeze, but I suppose being buried alive is a harder sell than poison koolade. If I just shoot everyone in the head that just becomes a mass murder, and I'm sure once the first few shots are fired people will lose their nerve for the ritual. Then I'd be forced to hunt them through the compound, and while this healthy competition may be enjoyable to start there is always the chance they may somehow arm themselves too. That would take all the sport out of it.

The moral of the story is I need to figure out a way to convince a lot of people, or one really rich person to give me everything they have, and then let me kill them.

I'm open to suggestions on this one.

Misty water coloured memories

So I was chatting on facebook with one of my old elementary school friends. This lead to talking about times gone by. This led to an overwhelming flashback moment wherein one memory leads to another which leads to so forth. Then I got to thinking about memories themselves. It's kinda crazy how we can have so many of them crammed in our heads completely forgotten about until you remember one of them. Then the floodgates open, and you're stuck spending the next hour or so remembering with vivid accuracy things that happened over a decade ago. Also how is it that I can remember with such absolute clarity things that happened such a long time ago, and couldn't tell you most of the events of last week. Granted my recreational lifestyle has created a number of blurry, and outright blank patches of my history in my head, but I must say I usually enjoy trips down memory lane. Remembering the sights, smells, and sensations of events long past. Then I start crying again, and wonder why I keep remembering the time those 3 vagrants brutally beat and sodomized me behind that abandoned house.

It's my weekend

Well another week of work has gone by, and my weekend approaches. I lucked out this week because I have some stupid training at 3pm today, and if I'm lucky it shouldn't take longer than 2 hours or so, but I'm getting paid for 4 hours. I still lose 4 hours of pay, but I'm okay with that. This means my weekend starts roughly 4 hours before my friday dealing shift would have started. This means I can probably beat GTA IV this weekend. I started over again because I had an issue killing flying rats, and I needed to beat the game in under 30 hours for the achievement. I was running at 42 hours on my last game I think, and I was about 4 missions from the end. I spent a lot of time doing side shit. Like hunting down all the flying rats only to find out I had marked off 3 more in my strategy guide than I had killed. Well I killed them, but perhaps due to reloading I did not save the death of some.

That's really all I have planned this weekend. GTA IV. I can't really afford to do anything else. Oh well I guess I can sleep a lot too. Go me.

My skin is crawling

This is a three stage report.

Stage 1:

I have a really fancy bedspread. I got it from home sense and it came with 5 fancy pillows that are intended to decorate my bed before I throw them on the floor to sleep.

Stage 2:

I am terrified of spiders. I cannot think of many things on this earth that scare me more than spiders. Maybe not even clowns. That's a close call. Spider clowns would win for sure, but that's not a victory I want to see.

Stage 3:

I saw a spider in my apartment this morning. It was the first one I've seen. I thought I was safe not having seen any spiders thus far, but there it was crawling across my bedroom floor. It was fucking huge. I have no idea where it came from, or how long it had been living as a refugee in my home, but where there is one spider there is potentially more spiders. I'm afraid to go into my closet now. Anyway I quickly obliterated this spider with some paper towel after I located it trying to hide next to my baseboard. When I was making my bed this evening I noticed the location where I throw my decorative pillows which then rest on my bed over my real pillows happens to coincide nicely with the location of my spider attack. I got most of the spider remains off the carpet I'm sure however my method of killing a spider involves half a roll of paper towel, and a rapid grinding/sliding motion once I have captured the spider between the carpet, and my 5 inches of paper towel. I'm a wuss, but I can live with this. Thankfully I have never been responsible for the murder of a silverfish because I don't know if I have enough paper towels in my apartment jesus christ my skin is really crawling now. I fucking hate bugs.

Especially spider clowns.

I need a better job

So I'm reworking my resume to apply for a job with my head office. In the Marketing department. After all these years I've dusted off my industry resume, and made a few changes. Now it's ready to represent me in application for this job. It seems like a pretty entry level position which is good because no matter how much I gussy up my resume it's still an advertising resume, and this is a marketing job. I guess I'm about to find out how much of a difference there is in these two disciplines. There is another lady from guest service applying for the position as well. She was rather evasive when I asked her what qualifications she had. I'm taking this to mean she's either super super qualified, or perhaps just trying to apply with her crappy guest service experience. I mean that's good experience, but lady you have no idea how fancy my resume is. I figure between a 2 year diploma in advertising, 14 years experience in the service sector, and my really pimp experience as a Casino Host where I can drop marketing and promotion into pretty much anything I did, well I should be able to impress whomever is doling out interviews.

I just noticed a neat feature offered from Blogger. If I click on a bookmarked link instead of another tab Blogger will remind me I'm about to screw myself outta hard typed posting instead of just redirecting me, and making me weep cause it's the 5th time I've done that since I started this post.

Anyway back to my possible promotion. Seems I'll be given a chance to request my desired salary, so I should be able to ask for as much money as I'm making now, or perhaps a bit more. I don't know if they can even pay me that much because I make way too much money for the absolutely no work that I have to do. I'm getting ahead of myself though. I should probably worry about being offered the position before I worry about whether I can accept it or not.

I hope I get this job because I call it my 9-5, Mon-Fri, Evenings, and Weekends off with salary plan. I like this plan because it has everything my current job doesn't have. While I may be allergic to hard work I think I might enjoy working in an environment that fosters, and rewards said hard work. I work hard in my current job, but nobody gives a shit beyond telling me "you did a good job tonight" which is great. I love compliments, but if I want to make myself feel better at the end of my shift I'll go jerk off in the bathroom. Give me a promotion, or an indication that I am working towards a promotion. Compliments are worthless when there is no potential for career progress with them. Now if my supervisor wanted to blow me while giving me a complement that would okay I guess. Otherwise just shut up, let me collect my wages, and go home. We all work for an hourly rate, and I've found that hourly rates encourage lazy useless workers who are trying to collect as much of that hourly rate for as little work as possible. Salary is good because you are just paid for your yearly attendance. If you can't keep up in the workload the company will likely jettison you in favour of somebody that can keep up. If you work extra hard, and somebody tells you "you did a good job" there is a chance that enough of those compliments can be cashed in for a promotion, or pay raise.

All I want is compliments with value. Either a promotion or a blowjob. I just don't want to be giving blowjobs for promotions. That's all fucked up.

I seem to enjoy spending money

So I was at Costco buying my grocceries, and I noticed a pressure washer to wash my car with for 20 dollars and it seemed like a really nice one so I bought it cause there is a hose faucet in my parking garage, and some guy I saw washing his car down there said I could get a small piece of hose cheap. I found out after my trips to wal mart and crappy tire that a cheap piece of small hose is 40 dollars, and at least 50 feet long. I was forced to buy about 40 ft of hose more than I required. That's awesome. Now I have a means to wash my car though since a car wash at the gas station costs me 14 dollars, and I hate those brushes all over my car. I figured a pressure washer was the way to go because I can't honestly see myself using a sponge and a bucket of water to wash my car. A high pressure water gun with a place to put washing soap seems much less labour intensive. This was an expensive trip out, but at least my car will be clean. Oh yeah I forgot to mention it decided to pour rain after I bought the pressure washer. I thought that was pretty special, but the downpour only lasted about 15 min. You know how the inuit supposedly have like 50 words for snow cause of all the different kinds. Well we still only have one word for rain in Vancouver, but I've noticed a wide variety in the types of rain. I'm glad I drive a car and everywhere has underground parking because I find the rain easier to enjoy from behind glass. Much the same way I enjoy my pressed ham.

I also came to a conclusion in my shopping trip. I failed to realize a core reason why my hurtful comments towards my friend yesterday were so hurtful. Besides the fact that he is a bitch. You see my friend Peck really wants to be a writer, and really enjoys writing. He created his website so he could work on his abilities, and share them with the world, so I can understand how my hate slinging would really bite deep, and wound my sensitive friend. Throw in the fact that when he doesn't update with anything of substance for a while this must be a constant daily reminder of personal failure. See I don't have that problem because I'm willing to put any shit up on my Blog as you can notice today. I call this process hit, and miss. However my good friend's willingness to take something he enjoys public, and considering his ability to do anything on time he does a pretty reasonable job of updating since he is far more discerning in what he allows to pass for content on his site has empowered me to make a decision.

I enjoy photography. I moved to one of the most beautiful places in the world. I think it's time I created a website about my photography, so when I don't go out and shoot photos I too can have a constant daily reminder of my personal failure. I'm used to accepting failure, so it really won't bother me too much however I think this would be a good project for my spare time. It will also give me more cool options with which to customize my home. So I thank you Peck for being oversensitive, and bringing me to this mental stop on the crazy train ride I call my brain. Perhaps I could even use said site to whore out my ability for cash. That would be awesome because there's nothing I love more than whoring for cash.

Do my pole... I mean poll

There is a poll all the way at the bottom of this page. After posting some replies on my friend's website I became insane with rage, and jealousy at the inadequacy of my blog when compared to a real website. My customization options are limited and lame. Granted this shit is still free, and pre coded to allow me to select shit with a mouse click. I doubt building a website is this easy. For that my hat goes off to you Peck. I was also pissed off cause I can't edit my replies on his website, and while I'm loathe to edit any post longer than 30 lines usually my replies to other peoples posts are short enough to warrant a second glance. It's just too bad for me that second glance is after I hit speak. That last little part was edited in afterwards. I'll bet you didn't even notice.

However since I can put a poll on here I did. It actually serves a useful purpose too. I'm hoping to find out how many people actually read this damn blog since well I'm a curious fellow, and that's how I roll. You can only make one selection, and while I'd appreciate it if you clicked on the answer that most closely reflects how you feel I really don't give a shit. Just click on something. I'm more interested in that total number.

Stupid fast internet

Sometimes I forget that the internet is fast, and that my good friend Peck has absolutely nothing to do at his job. Anyway this was going to be a reply in response to a post in response to my hate mongering about my friend's website. Say that ten times fast.

It seems either your lockout failed, or you let me back in. I suppose this would be a good time to make reparations for my hurtful behaviour. I was actually going to type this into my blog since I had thought at the time I was locked out however more people will probably read it here.

I am sorry I said hurtful critical things about your work. I know there really isn't a solid defense to my behaviour however I'm going to try and assemble one anyway because justifying my shitty decisions throughout my whole goddamn life actually is my forte. If not to others it at least helps me sleep at night. In my thin defense I would like to point out that the only confirmed readership on my blog is You, Baguette, Stir Fry, and my girlfriend, so I did not feel like I was attacking you in a public forum. Any random readers are just that, and if anything my attack would direct them to your site where they could read your work and decide for themselves. That would result in new readers for you, and you want new readers. I think that is actually a point in my defense. I was high on Niacin, THC, and life. The Niacin was a new addition to the party, and I blame my jittery delusions partially on that. That's not really a point in my defense, but I'm throwing it out there anyway. I've gone back and looked at what I wrote, and while it could've maybe been reserved for a private email really my blog is the next closest thing to a private email. Besides it wasn't a horrible attack on you as a person, or even you as a creative writer. I did not at any point say you were a terrible writer, but I could've said you were a terrible person, and not felt too bad about that.

Especially when we come to your hurtful retaliation. You did remove that or so your email states I haven't verified that information personally. I still read it, and to be honest it didn't really hurt my feelings or anything. The brief flush feeling I felt was more shame at legitimately hurting your feelings. I am talking to Baguette on the phone about this situation, and she is helping to put this is perspective for me. She pointed out the huge blowout with Mawj a few christmases ago. This written word of our is terrible at conveying tone, and so forth. I'm not going to get into great detail about this because you can just get this conversation from Jyll firsthand.

Man I totally lost my steam on this post during my conversation with Jyll. We totally got sidetracked onto other topics, so I'm gonna wrap this up here. Anyway I hope you weren't completely serious in your attack on my writing. Some people (Jyll and Stir Fry) have told me they like my blog. I was hoping you'd like it too, and I know my writing style is hard to impossible to read and understand at times, but I don't like editing, so this is the best you're going to get.

I love you guy.

And since I hijack a lot of the style you use in your posts attacking my creative work is an indirect attack on your own. So ha ha ha fucker. You just attacked your own work.

This post was preapproved as funny by me

Facebook Phenomenon

Let me start by saying Phenomenon is a hard word to spell the first time. I'm big enough to admit I got it wrong my first try, and had to check dictionary.com

So I'm still sitting here jacked up on Niacin (See the next post) and with nothing to do. Therefore I do what I normally do when I'm bored, and online. I creep facebook profiles. I think there are still a lot of profiles on my friend's list that I haven't even looked at. I'm pretty liberal with my addition of friends though. I have people on there that I hardly even know, but hey I'm a friendly guy, so add em on. It just gives me more profiles to creep through when I'm bored. I've noticed a shocking trend on facebook. Applications.

I have scrabulous, and some fancy map that shows where I've been in the world. I am a very big fan of both. I love playing scrabble, and the map is both a glaring reminder of the places I didn't get a chance to visit which will always cause me a bit shame, and a good indication of all the awesome places I did get to visit. However almost everyone else seem to have upwards of 25-50 applications installed on their profile. People my age and older seem to have been reduced to the online modern equivalent of 14 year old girls, putting stickers on their locker doors. And not just women either. Men are guilty of this crime too. I understand that these facebook applications are devious little fuckers requiring you to send at least 15 of your friends a stupid invite to join the retard club, so you can proceed to either bite people, or be a pirate, or a vampire, or a werewolf, or whatever the fuck the pointless application does. You'll then proceed to use this stupid application a few times until it just sits on your profile collecting proverbial dust, and forcing me to wade through pages and pages of shit to creep your profile.

SuperWall or FunWall or whatever the hell it's called is the most sinister demon of the bunch. I mean I hate getting spam mail in my email inbox, but this application has taken spam to scary scary new levels. People who I know personally wouldn't open a spam email RE: ENLARGE YOUR COCK NOW FOR $$$$$$$$$ LOW PRICES BIG BIG RESULTS INCREASE YOUR PLESURE FOR HALF THE COST are willingly spreading this superwall spam. I don't understand how this application manages to install this level of hysteria in people such as to make them perpetuate (I spelled that right on the first try go me) this evil evil spam demon. I understand that some people like my mother didn't realize you could delete applications from your profile page. Well you can. I suggest you spread the word, and maybe get these funwalls deleted.

This application shitstorm has gotten so bad I've found some profiles with little tiny squares representing an application, and these people have a whole lot of squares. Could be like 60-100 squares. That's just not right. There is no way you could possibly be using even a small fraction of those applications. Is it because they are free that people seem to want so many? Perhaps they are like Pokemon or something. (What the fuck. Blogger's spell check did not approve charnel but Pokemon is okay? You can tell this program is american.) If somebody does in fact collect all the applications let me know how it goes. Maybe it opens a portal to the 4th level of hell. Which is home to hoarders, and wasters it seems according to

http://www.wsu.edu/~alake/the_circles_of_hell.htm

I see that violence against neighbours, and homosexuals are both invited to the same party in the 7th layer of hell. I believe that layer is either the refried beans, or the guacamole (Again on the first try. I'm getting better at this spelling thing) in the 9 layer hell salad. Keep this in mind if you decide you want to attack your gay neighbour and beat him or her to death. When they are choking out their last words "I'll see you in hell" while you have your fag hating hands wrapped around their homosexual throat it's not an empty threat. It seems you two will in fact have tickets to the same afterlife party. I know where I want to be when I go to hell. Pimps, and "Seducers" are both attending the level 8 show, so that should be a pretty fly party.

Anyway I fucking hate facebook applications for the most part. Facebook is about connecting with, and cyber stalking people you used to go to school with, and probably never even thought about until they sent you a friend request. Unfortunately it seems everyone I used to know just seemed to grow up into an adult version of themselves. I'm hoping to eventually stumble across somebody that changed their sex, or lost half their face in a horrible accident or something. Just to keep things interesting.

I've got nothing better to do

So I was supposed to go out for some drinks with one of the boxmen after he finished work today. I overslept. Now this guy has bailed on me the last two or maybe three weeks in a row, , so I wasn't frantic about making him wait for me. However I was a bit upset that I had slept through my alarm, so after texting him to say I was running late I get ready to go. I send another text when I was almost at the casino because I took a while to get ready, and at this point I was almost 40 min late. While driving down the road to the casino I see him walking along the side of the road. "That's strange" I think to myself. Instead of responding to my text messages like a normal human being my friend decided to start walking towards my apartment. I guess he wanted to save me the additional gas to continue on towards the casino, but I needed to go there anyway to collect my tips. I stop, and let him into my car. He then explains that he called his wife to come get him because his phone battery died, and he didn't have my number. Granted there could've been at least one person in the breakroom who would've had a battery he could use on his phone to make a call to me, or someone who would have my number. Unfortunately for me this friend is not the fastest cat out there. That's right I just referred to somebody as a cat. I think that slang should so be brought the fuck back. I know the word fuck was unnecessary there, but I didn't think I'd used it yet, and I need to keep up my swearing quotient. Shit, damn, balls, ass. Okay I'm good now.

Arbitrary new paragraph time. Anyway, so I discover that my tool friend has called his wife to come get him because he thinks I've ditched him or something. I take him to the Tim Hortons and drop him off to wait while I go get my tips, and return for him. I get back, and hang out while he waits for his wife while praying she is alone and wants to join us for drinks, so he doesn't get in too much trouble. She brings her child. He is fucked. He tells me to wait for me at home while he drives back with his wife, and comes back out. Now I'm sitting here in my living room waiting for him to call. It's getting close to the 2hr mark. I bought one of those 5 hour energy drinks because I wanted to wake up. Now I'm sitting here jacked up on whatever the fuck is in that small bottle that certainly did NOT taste like lemon and/or lime. With nothing to do. For 2.95 this 5 hour energy drink is a pretty powerful narcotic. It's significantly cheaper than cocaine, and I can still feel my face. However I'm lacking that twitchy cold sweat, and feeling that I am in fact King of the World, and I probably won't have any problems sleeping tonight. As well 20 min later I did not feel like drinking another bottle of that whatever it was. It tasted like an unholy citrus union between dish soap, and the sweat that collects in a fat man's genitals.

My question is what the fuck am I supposed to do with the 4 hours of energy I have remaining? If I am left in front of this posting box for the next 240 minutes I can't be held responsible for the length and content of this post. I'm sitting here all dressed up, and really the only things I know how to get to are the local casinos. I also have 230 dollars in my pocket. I can't afford to gamble away 230 dollars however I'm high on niacin, (I went and read the bottle for the active ingredient) or will be for about 4 more hours, and I'm bored.

I really can't post for 4 hours. I'm not feeling upset or cynical enough to be funny right now. If this motherfucker doesn't answer his phone right now I might be though. Gah fuck. It's been almost 2 hours. Unless his wife is sucking his dick, or beating the shit out of him I'm going to be pretty pissed off. Actually she better be beating the shit out of him. If she's been blowing him for the past hour I can't really be too upset, but seriously now. There is no reason for a blowjob lasting for any longer than a few minutes. Either it's a prelude to sex, a transitional move during sex or a "we don't have time for sex lets do it in that truck stop bathroom blowjob" Really though if you have time to get out at the truck stop you have time to fuck in the bathroom. Save the blowjob for the car. Hell if it's dark out and you think you can manage it try to fuck in the car while you drive. The best part is you won't be able to see the speedo, and when you finally bust a nut you should be doing at least 180km/hr cause you know your foot has nowhere else to go but down.

Sonofabitch at which point should I consider myself stood up, and find something else to do. I can't sit here and play video games. While I'm grateful to be high on niacin, and not cocaine at this point I still need to get out of my apartment. This post has already become way too long, and I'm really not pleased with the levels of funny. I haven't marketed this blog as a humourous one, so it's not like I have some minimum requirement for comedy however I would like to consider myself pretty goddamn comedic. I've found I can't force it though because you can pick up on forced humour. For some examples of this please look in my approved links section. That was a low blow eh Peck? Attacking your site on my blog is starting to become a trend I approve of. You'll also notice how I didn't use your little self devised moniker. It's my way of lashing out because you won't let me use Peck on your message board that I think only we use. I don't understand why you won't let me use one stupid nickname in favour of another stupid nickname that you gave yourself, but I respect your wishes in your home. This is my house though, and while it may smell like a charnel I can still make the rules.

Okay I can see blogger giving me the red spell check line where I use the real spelling for words containing the ou combo. However charnel is a real word and I still receive the red line. For this blogger you can go fuck yourself. I trusted in you to correct my spelling as I went along, but now this trust has been broken. I don't know if our relationship will ever be the same.

But back to my attack on my good friend's website. I still love you guy, but well you know how much I enjoy emotionally abusing you. Incidentally that critique about your forced humour came to me at this moment, so I threw it in. I understand though. You made a humour site without realizing that sometimes you're as funny as wet newspaper. You should call your brother and consult with him on days you aren't feeling funny. Your track record is spotty at best, but I've never seen him miss. I'd like to tell you that this friendly abuse I'm directing your way is going to bring you more readers, but that'd be a horrible lie. I'm just being a jerk.

-edit to add-

I'm sorry guy that end part came off a bit harsh. You are still a pretty funny guy, and your writings have made me smile, and even laugh out loud on occasion. However I know when you're forcing it just like I know you didn't really come last time. It's okay though it made me feel special knowing you cared enough about my feelings to fake it. You know your blog's readership is low when you're making an edit directed at 25% of your readers, and it's only one person.

-edit again to add-

Well it's 12:15am and I'm pretty sure I've been stood up. I'm not too pissed off since it cost me 60 dollars to fill up my gas tank, and buy this 5 hour crack drink. The crack drink seems to be wearing off since I'm sleepy again, but that might also be the THC. I guess I save money not going out after all, and I manged to bust out two reasonably decent posts. Probably 3 since I figure this edit will turn into some rambling nightmare of a post. I went for the edit since if I start a third post it's just going to confuse things since that will be the first post you read when you visit my blog. I can't say I'm really happy with the limits of my Blogger layout, but since it's free, and I have no interest in teaching myself how to make a website I'm gonna have to go with what I can get. I'm upset the cuss-o-meter didn't work on my blog cause I'm pretty sure I was going for a pretty high score, but I'm too lazy to work out the math myself.

Well I took off my suit, and put on my not leaving the apartment clothes, so even if my buddy calls to go out at this point he can blow me. The 5 hour energy drink advertised no crash however I am certainly feeling a crash. Again that might just be the THC, but at least I'm not in the mood to go to the casino anymore. I also can't figure out now why I didn't think to open my online poker 3 hours ago. I'm down 3 hours of potential losses now. I'm going to have to play like a real asshole to make up those losses. Anyway I've found something better to do, so that's enough random posting for tonight.

You can thank Niacin for these last two posts.

What happens when you run out of rope?

Today I used the expression "at the end of my rope" and I got to thinking what happens when you are then pushed further past the end of this proverbial rope? Tonight that's how I felt. Like I was hurdling through space trying to find my rope. I'd have given my left nut for just a handful of rope. Why am I feeling like this you ask? Well even if you didn't ask I'm going to tell you anyway.

Tonight I was written up for poor job performance. It seems this was the second time I've been written up for inability to perform my job duties beyond the ability of a retarded rhesus monkey. The worst part is I wasn't even high, or drunk or recently either. I came to work reasonably well rested, and fed with the intention of doing a good job. Somewhere between walking in the front door, and dealing everything just went to shit.

Now anyone who knows me knows I have a bit of trouble focusing on anything for an extended period of .... hey look something shiny. I've never been tested for ADD, but maybe that's part of the reason I did so poorly in school. I'm sure my shitty work ethic, and excessive laziness didn't help either, but I seriously do have concentration issues. These issues are not a problem when I am dealing blackjack, or poker etc because well these games are mindless, and I am really fucking good at my job. This allows me to shut my mind to the pain, and deal for the eight hours required of me. Alas craps does not work this way. There is a very good reason why craps is considered the highest skill set in the casino industry, and I get paid 3.50 an hour more to deal than the chaff.

This also means there is more pressure on me to perform at the very least to acceptable standards. Even more for me because I am not coded to deal anything else in my casino, so I get all my shifts in craps which dealers with years more seniority than me don't get. Then I get nights like tonight where I am a complete retard, and I get written up. I was told the next time I will be formally written up which is actually quite serious.

All in all it was a pretty shitty night for me. My hands hurt too. I'm gonna have wicked arthritis when I'm older.

Hurry the fuck up or die

Okay, so I get to work on a Saturday night. I haven't even walked in the front door, and already I'm about ready to murder somebody. We have a 6 deck parking garage at our casino. The staff have levels 5 and 6 for our exclusive parking. Well hey now you must be thinking. Exclusive indoor parking for staff. That's a pretty sweet deal. Well unfortunately the casino industry manages to turn even the most beautiful thing into shit. Now I understand out here in BC many people drive trucks. Raised trucks even *coughredneckscough* However I think my casino ordered the mountain brand of speedbump. Granted you can see the rocky mountains from the parking garage, so maybe some asshole thought they'd give my shocks a front row seat to the scenery. They have a lot of these speedbumps throughout the parking garage. Usually after my shift or on a monday night I can just drive around many of them, but on a weekend coming to work that is not a possibility. So we have obnoxious speedbumps. That's hardly enough to warrant murder right? Well that would be correct however this brings me to my next issue.

Lets say you and 5 of your friends decide to go to the casino for the night. You exit your giant redneck truck, and when walking the length of the parking garage you decide to line up 6 wide and walk along the driving lane all the way to the door. I come up and around one of the ramps, and what do I encounter? The retard parade. Two thoughts ran through my head at this point. Thought 1) If I floor in, and use my handbrake I can probably take out at least 4 of them. This should result in serious if not fatal injury to at least 2 of them. However this option I risk hitting a parked car and damaging my car beyond what I can clean off with a carwash.
Thought 2) If I exit my car, and use my keys, and ipod as weapons I can probably kill at least 3 of them before the other 3 either beat me down, or run. I'm gonna bet the pussies run. This option ensures my car remains safe, but I will have to wash blood, and brain matter off my keys, and I don't have enough time to run home, and change into a clean uniform.
Thought 3) How closely is surveillance really watching those cameras? What are my chances of butchering some of our players, and still making it to work on time?

I decide that murder is not my best option at this point (I always hate coming to this conclusion. Just once I'd like murder cold or warm blooded to be the best option available)

Instead I opt to drive up really close behind them, and gun my engine. I get an angry look behind, and 4 of them decide to shift slightly to the side leaving a few more people in my path. I half swerve my car attempting to run the gap before I decide to just stop my car and admit defeat. Of course one of the slow group walkers was just finishing up at the ATM machine in the lobby when I exited the elevator. Lucky for me I was able to dodge past her slow fat ass and get through the doors first. If I had been caught behind her at this point there is a good chance I would be in jail right now. I would just hope that somebody with a cellphone camera caught my godless butchery so I could at least view it on the internet.

Anyway the moral of the story is why the fuck do people walk slow in large groups. This only pisses me off slightly less than people who stand in throughfares and decide that is the best location for a conversation. I almost ran some bitch down in Wal Mart for doing this. That resulted in a rather heated argument in the middle of Wal Mart where there is a good chance the words "Fuck you, you stupid bitch. Shut the fuck up. There is no almost ran you over. If I was going to run you over you would be run the fuck over. Now shut the fuck up, and pick a better location for your next conversation" came out of my mouth. In a Wal Mart. With people and children watching. This was even more shocking for my friend who missed the near shopping cart rundown, and only caught me verbally bitchslapping some welfare whitetrash hoe in a Longbeach Wal Mart. I can't understand why some people say I have no decency.

And people wonder why the RCMP tazer people to death. If I had a tazer there would be a lot of dead bodies in my wake too.

Lazy is me

I can't really give my blogging friend shit for not updating his blog when I am in fact guilty of the same crime. More guilty one might say. Granted my blog is free whereas he pays for his domain, so I can afford to be lazy. I couldn't possibly lose any readers. Does anyone who doesn't know me read this? I mean I can sound pretty fucked up to those who have known and loved me for years, so I must scare off any outsiders pretty quickly. If anyone who doesn't know me reads this please post a comment. Maybe then we can get to know each other... I swear this won't lead to me drinking your brain juice through a straw I jammed into your eye socket. I learned my lesson last time. The best brain juice is obtained by drilling a small hole into the base of the skull. You have to drink it quickly though cause once the person expires, so does the brain juice. It just tastes like flat cola after it goes bad, and why go through all the trouble and hassle of a homicide when you could just leave a coke on your counter for a few days. Unless you just enjoy the thrill of hunting, and then murdering another human being to which I say "Good for you" Just remember to carry a small power drill with you, so you may enjoy the sweet sweet brain juice. I tried to fashion an auger once using a set of car keys, and some rubber bands. Needless to say it was an exercise in futility. The resulting hole was too large, and much tasty brain juice was wasted. I would suggest if caught in a bind try to fashion yourself a gimlet instead of an auger. The resulting hole should be smaller, and you'll waste less juice.

I promise I'll try to post more frequently. I even have some ideas for some creative expression. By creative expression I mean fucking your eyes with the twisted shit that passes for a good idea in my head. At least a 43.82% chance of causing permanent emotional scarring.

What the fuck

So I heard through the grapevine about the 2 girls 1 cup video.

How bad could it be right? I mean they made fun of it on Family Guy. My buddy said it was pretty gross, but I've seen goatse so I can take it.

What the fuck.

I almost threw up.

Seriously what the fuck.

A year in review

So I turned 28 today. I don't really feel any older than I did yesterday at 27. I'm not too worried about the upcoming 29 either. In fact 30 doesn't even look that daunting. I don't seem to understand why everyone gives a shit. We're born, we get old, we die. That is the natural order of things. Perhaps some day in the future they will develop science to the point where they can perhaps slow down the getting old part, but we're probably going to still end up dead. Unless they develop science to the point where we can somehow download ourselves into a computer. That however raises huge moral and spiritual issues that I couldn't care less about. If somebody gives me the option to download myself into a computer I might very well take that chance. I'm curious to see what that'd be like. I wonder if the process would hurt. What would happen once I was in the computer. I suppose if somebody could kill me just by smashing the computer that would kinda suck. I would like my computer to be equipped with rocket launchers, and guns, and a robo-deatharm of sorts that I could use to eviscerate anyone foolhardy enough to attempt smashing me. Perhaps I could send myself online and put my penis in other people's family photos. Imagine the surprise when you send an email with pictures from your daughter's 10th birthday party, and there is my cock sticking right out of little Sally's mouth. Oh the horror. That'd be pretty fucking cool if you ask me. You probably didn't ask me, but I told you anyways. Good luck scrubbing that image out of your brain. I suggest using a drill. Apply gentle pressure until the bad thoughts leak out of your skull.

I like to use one giant paragraph. Only through careful post posting editing do I actually achieve any semblance of coherent writing. This paragraph was inserted during the writing process, but only because I thought to myself "I wonder how big that last paragraph has become"

I don't really have anything else to say about my birthday. It's not the best birthday I've ever had, but it's not the worst either. This isn't really a rant about anything, but I can't be angry on my birthday. This probably won't even be a rant based blog cause I'm too apathetic to bother posting about things that piss me off. Unless something really pisses me off cause then I'll hunt down your whole family and kill them.

always watching. laughing.....

Chirp Chirp

What's this. I started a project, and didn't follow through on it. That never happens. I'll be honest this whole starting of a blog seemed like a fantastic idea until GTA IV came out, and then I found something better to do. I'm not playing it now since I have to get ready for work soon, so I decided I should put some letters into words and share them with the world. I'm going to try and post something every day. I mean if Peck did it for a month I should be good for at least 4 days before I find something new and shiny to play with.. right?.... hey look something shiny.