Monday, September 30

What is this that thou hast done NOW?

I spent a large part of Monday morning working on a web site for a company that sells alternative cancer treatments. Super mushrooms to make you live forever, or something like that. Usually this would be easy, because we get a lot of that sort of thing around here - but when I opened the file to get at the client information, this is what I found:

        "Once upon a time, long ago, God gave man a cure for everything. Then, over
        the long millennia the cures got lost. Eve probably didn't keep her recipes or her
        Godmother misplaced them or something and mankind could no longer live free of pain
        ever after."

I sat there and stared at this for like five minutes.

Eve's recipes?

Eve's ...godmother?

A lot of people I talk to think it's funny that I have these strange and bizarre sites to work on every day.

…sometimes it is.

But then there are those other days when you're on your seventh straight hour of motard patrol, and it just gets to be too much.

        I mean seriously, this fucker thinks he can cure cancer

And let's put aside for a second this underlying assertion that all the worlds’ suffering is Eve's fault for being a dumbass woman (and for also apparently having an equally stupid... legally designated... relative?), and focus on the real issue here:

Someone with a tumor is going to give this a-hole money. Someone in pain, someone hoping against hope is going to cancel their next chemo session, dial the phone, and pony up for a bag full of fungus that they think is going to save their lives.

Because they want it to be true.
Because they need it to be true.
Because they saw it on the web.
Because I hit the button.

Because I wrote the site.

        14 more to go, then my day's done.

Follow the White Rabbit.. to Big Savings!

Last night while Lawrence Fishburne was explaning to Keanu Reeves that "The Matrix is a computer generated dream world built to keep us under control," I had a sudden, sobering realization.

    I'm watching this on television

Friday, September 27

All This Vinegar Nothing

Tense couple of days. Not worth going into particulars. Just piddly little events and misfires that in retrospect seem meaningless and dumber than they actually were.

It's probably a lot to do with timing.

I get to work and sort of autopilot through the first half of the day, and then I go to lunch and something happens, or more usually nothing happens - and I can't find the focus to get productive again.

I'm tired of existence without results, of sawing at the tree all day without it falling down. And I'm really running out of gas with being constantly broke despite jumping through hoops for morons eight hours a day.

This morning I built a website for a Mexican Restaurant. The client put a note in with their information that read,

        Please do not use the word "Mexican."

I swear, sometimes I feel like it's Joe vs. The Volcano in here -- I don't really love Meg Ryan at all, but every woman I meet looks just fucking like her, and they're all starting to get on my nerves.

        First chance I get, I'm shoving that bitch into the lava.

Wednesday, September 25

Sleep is a Place Where My Cat Never Disappeared

It doesn't feel all that different being 30 years old, but I don't think I like it all that much so far.

Part of it is this whole penis propaganda thing that makes all dudes feel like crap five or six times a year if they're not Michael Jordan yet - which I know that I fall prey to sometimes.

        When it comes,
        it comes unannounced.
        And it feels like a matador is taunting me with his
        reddest red cloth and
        I am the bull

But I have fairly high expectations of myself, and for some reason looking back at my scorecard thus far with such an ominous number to reference it to is bumming me out a little.

        Restless dreams.

Monday, September 23

Pudding Pop

(For best results, read this using Bill Cosby's voice)

After spending most of the last week listening to India Aire's "Acoustic Soul," I have a question:

            Just how brown does the skin need to be?

Because I'm about two steps from buying a gallon of housepaint, heading over to wherever you're at, and doing some serious dancin' on your face.

I mean, J-E-L-L-O that's a sexy song!

Thursday, September 19

Actually Spoken During the Course of My Day

    "Buck Rogers had it rough, man. First he's gotta hang out with Twiki just so he can get face time with Erin Gray, and then he's got Hawk harshing his cool all day?

    I don't know how he ever put up with it..."

Wednesday, September 18

I Don't Get Flying Squirrels

I mean, think about it. Shouldn't they be like completely in charge of the squirrel universe?

It just seems like they're in a perfect position to lord over their unwinged bretheren, and they're not really taking advantage of the opportunity.

And does anyone else suspect that flying squirels probably all talk like Bela Lugosi, or is that just me?

I also have good reason to believe that all flying fish talk like the characters from "Top Gun," and have snazzy testosterone-fueled nicknames like "Maverick" and "Iceman."

    That's right, I am dangerous..

Tuesday, September 17

Somewhere in Heaven, Iron Eyes Cody is Crying

There's this clump of bushes in our front yard that Kim's always going on about since they always block our view of oncoming traffic whenever we back the car out of the driveway. So this weekend after my father and I finished mowing the lawn (I was sober this time, amazingly enough) I went over to see what I could do about cleaning them up.

So I start snipping away at branches, eyeballing straight lines while trying to retain the overall look of things. Eventually though, "getting them even," turns into "cutting them shorter," which becomes "that looks sorta funny over there," which progresses to..

Well, let's just say that my shrub problems are completely under control now.

    They's gone, baby.

Monday, September 16

Feel the Corporate Love

They have a "Voice Concern" committee here, which is this group of employees that meets with upper management once a week or so to make sure that the suits don't lose sight of the wishes of the rank and file.

So far they've managed to get a pushpin bulletin board installed and a television set in the break room. I personally would sort of appreciate them asking for, oh - I don't know - better salaries or something... but I guess you take what you can get.

While I was in the break room this afternoon to buy a soda I took a moment to appreciate our new television, which to that point had been blaring on into an empty room. It was 2:30 in the afternoon, which means just one thing...


On today's episode -- some old woman in a fancy dinner dress looks up in embarrassment at a man in a tuxedo and cries,

    "This wouldn't have happened if you'd let me wear the diaper!"

Thursday, September 12

Your own, Personal, Cheese Whiz

It's one of those things you don't always think about. One of those little quirks that gets by you before you even realize what's happening. But time after time you'll find yourself there behind the wheel, looking in the rearview -- snickering at yourself.

        Whenever I sing along with Depeche Mode, I use an accent.

I don't really know why I do it. I'd like to say that it's just sort of a subconscious, involuntary thing - but I know it's not, because I don't do it when I sing along with Bowie, Bootsy, or Bad Brains.

But I swear to god, every time I'm in the car listening to "Halo," "Policy of Truth," or "Never Let Me Down Again" it's like Benny Hill's behind the wheel.

        Then Bjork comes on, and the real trouble starts...

Tuesday, September 10

Gulliver Stylee

Northeast winds swept the Florida shore last Sunday morning, pushing choppy four-foot waves towards the beach at a hard angle. I arrived with the rising sun, looking forward to a couple of hours riding lines, carving shapes, and enjoying the water before the rest of my day got started.

Unfortunately, almost as soon as I arrived, something too small to be wiped away got lodged in the corner of my eye. A grain of sand, a drop of sunscreen, I really don't know what it was. I tried to wash it away while I navigated the harsh paddle out past the breakers, but no matter what I did, I couldn't shake it loose. The sun low over the water, creating a harsh glare that only made things worse.

Eventually I just pointed my board in the right direction, and paddled with my eyes closed towards the sea.

                And while I was working under this self-imposed darkness,
                I found myself in the middle of a daydream.

I opened my eyes after what seemed ages of paddling to find myself on the shores of a small distant isle, inhabited by people who stood no taller than my toes.

They offered me fresh fruits and wine, and regaled me with song. Then they implored me, the red-eyed keeper of the three-finned sword of Kechele, to aid them in their struggle against the evil lord Offthebouy and his band of suicide shoulder hoppers.

It occurred to me that these strange people did not see me as some misplaced traveler from a strange land; but more as a hero, a giant, a champion... perhaps even as a god. I looked out over the churning Atlantic waters while I pondered this, watching the surf rise and fall in slow sideways curls topped with foam.

I turned back to them and said,

        "Step off, Lilliputs - These waves are mine!"

Friday, September 6

Working for the Man

A few minutes ago one of the IT guys at my company walked up to me with a stern look and said, "Do you have Yahoo Messenger installed on your PC?"

Having been in this situation before, I immediatley took on my "new employee" demeanor -- and in a voice that made every attempt to act like I had no idea such a thing as on-line instant messaging even existed, I quietly answered that "I didn't think so"

He looked me over for a second, and then in a very corporate sort of tone he said,

        "I'll need to install it for you, then."

Any minute now I expect them to show back up and force me to start downloading porn.

Wednesday, September 4

The Vampire Granny Panties

Just finished watching Aalyiah in "Queen of the Damned," and I've come to a very specific conclusion:

    ... I need a bigger bathtub.


I was driving home last night from my workout, blood pumping, feeling pretty good, but not really thinking about much of anything at all other than the cars around me and the sound of the radio. It was one of those times where phrases pass through your mind randomly; almost like you're watching your thoughts go by.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, an image appeared in my mind.



It seemed so real that I could feel shivers running down my side.

                Then as I sorta realized what was happening, it was gone.

I really don't know where it came from, but it was intense. I mean, I'm a guy - I think about sex a lot, - but it's usually that 'every 5 seconds' thing where you think to yourself, "Man, I'd really like to be having sex right now."

But this... this was something really different. Like a mental Shyamalan film or something...

        I drove the rest of the way home with both hands on the wheel.

Tuesday, September 3

When it's On We Transform Like Optimus Prime...

I'm listening to an exceptionally scratched up copy of some DMX album that I borrowed from some guy here at work.

None of my music was hitting me right for whatever reason, so I wandered around during a break until I found someone willing to lend me anything new. I occasionally flirt with the idea of being a DMX fan, but sometimes it's tough to do.

This disc (unlabeled, I don't know which one it is) is all right, but I'm just amazed at people who let their CD's get this scratched up. Seriously, it looks like someone worked this thing over with a salad fork.

    Seems like I'm losing almost every other song...

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