And welcome to STABBING MOTIONS.com, this site was designed as a log book of sorts. Meant to keep all of the funny things that happen to my misguided and obviously disgruntaled friend. For now he will be the sole poster to this site. Now with a little luck he should be posting a few times a day so check back every once in a while and see how he is copeing.
I don't know how or when it happened, but boy do I hate Christmas. You know, I can't say that, the actual holiday (Christmas Eve and Christmas Day) are usually a good time, it's the months before hand where people get all stressed out and come out with phrases like, "Only 128 shopping days left!" FUCK YOU!! I'm that guy running around the mall on December 24th walking into Office Max saying, "Oooo, a desk organizer! Grandma would like that....right??" No...of course she wouldn't, she can barely see 3 inches in front of her and she has no appointments for anything important, but I'm there, and the store is closing in 10 minutes, so that's what she's getting. I truly am the self-proclaimed worst gift giver in the Eastern Continental United States, and possibly after this year, the enire universe. I remember when I got my brother one of those minute glasses that was filled with water, and made those gel-like bubbles that would count down the seconds. Are you kidding me? What a PIECE OF SHIT gift that is. I still hate myself for that. (But screw him, he's the one who showed me Santa wasn't real, then called me a moron for thinking that he was.) Last year I got my mom a day at a salon, (hair/manicure/massage). She has yet to use that. I got my dad a Trivial Pursuit game and a couple DVD's because he enjoys both. They are still in their origional fresh-sealed plastic coating with no sight of ever being removed. But Lord knows I have to keep buying this crap even if they don't use it because it just wouldn't be the holidays if they didn't get something they'l never fucking use. The point is that obviously this holiday has become all about presents, and is no longer about the religious aspect. Everyone forgets that it's the birthday of Jesus, (I think, I haven't been to church in a while), and they should be celebrating THAT, not that they were able to find the last Suck My Dick Elmo in New Jersey. There was one time where I felt so strongly about this that I said, "Everyone should buy presents for Jesus, then throw them up in the air and say, 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS!!'" Of course I was about 19, and was hugging the toilet bowl about 45 minutes later because I was as drunk as a bum.
Another part of the holiday that I find more annoying than the rash on my taint is the putting up of the lights. I had to do this yesterday. I'm no good at it. I have no patience when it comes to that shit, and everytime I do it, it comes out so fucking half assed that it's embarrassing to look at. I am excited, however, at the invention of the "light-net" and "light-rope". For those of you who don't know what they are, have a Happy Hanukah! Regardless, the light-net is perfect for plugging in to your extention cord, throwing it on a bush, then going inside to rub your groin, because putting up the lights part takes 15 seconds, leaving you plenty of time to play with yourself. The light rope is for those people who don't have the patience to straighten out the regular strand of lights because the rope makes a perfectly straight line everytime. Lazy, yes, but it does look much nicer...except if someone stole your ladder and you have no way of reaching the roof to hang them up, so you just hold them in your hand, stare at the area you wish they were hung up at, and weep. (Oh...if you couldn't guess, this is what happened to me yesterday.)
Then there's the icicle lights that couldn't look less like icicles. Unless icicles look like this:
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Nice invention.
Last, and least, there are the inflatable decorations. I admit, I am a vitim of this product...however, my father bought a snowman, and a bear in pajamas. Both have absolutely NOTHING to do with Christmas. I might as well have a giant lighted Star of David on the garage. (And yes...I realize that that's the second time I made fun of Jews in this posting...but fuck it, they're all wealthier and smarter than me anyway...so deal with it.) The dumbest thing about those inflatable characters is that when you unplug them before you go to bed, the next day, you have a deflated animal on your lawn. It looks like garbage bags, and makes your house look a bit white trashy. But then again, so do all the wires and extention cords blocking the windows and doors.
But now that I'm at work, I can stop worrying about the holiday season, and concentrate on the pile of crap I have to do. Oh...except the radio is playing 24 hour Christmas music...goddamnit do I hate this time of year...
The archive section has been updated
I received this e-mail yesterday that was in response to my precious posting. I thought it was interesting enough to include on the regular page, and not the mailbag. Lets keep this in mind, this gentleman does NOT share the same views with people I know or myself. But it's rather funny none the less... Here goes...
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I've recently read your report on Christmas lights, by the way me and the boys at the port love Christmas, and you spoke about ugly white trash power cords and net lighting. Recently on my monthly trip to Wal-Mart for new draws, I found a new invention that you may need. It is a power cord that is painted green so that it blends in well with the grass and leaves and shit, you know, a Christmas look. Also I have seen the net lights, they work very well to catch Jews on your lawn. What you do is spread all the net lights out on the lawn then bait the area with bagels and sardines, the Jews then will come up onto the grass and try to get the food, since they do not have the same motor skills as humans, they become all tangled up in the lights and roll around and make sounds like this, "HUK NUT YOCK"...don't be alarmed, this is normal. At this pointit is safe to let the little ones go up and see the Jews close up. They also make great lawn ornaments, they will last about 2-3 days out there on the lawn, after that you have to get new ones, but I've found they're plentiful in my area. E-mail me so that I can tell you how to dispose of the bodies or you can bring them down to the docks, Pier 21. Thank you and have a great holiday...
Frank Sobotka from the port
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Great to see an increase in my fan base. Thanks for writing, Frank...how's the weather in Auschwitz?
The title of today's posting, (if I actually titled each of these things), would be:
"Company Holiday Parties: Why I'm Never Going to Another One Again...EVER"
Last Wednesday I went to our company's holiday party at the "beautiful" Grand Chalet in Wayne New Jersey. (I put beautiful in quotes because it wasn't.) This place was the kind of place that you'd go to a wedding reception at, but on your way out, you look to your date and say, "What a crappy wedding reception." Please feel free to check the website for this piss-pot of a place: www.grandchalet.com. Please notice the horrendously miserable bride on their homepage, probably because their wedding was at the Grand Chalet, and the fact that her husband looks like he just got done fucking two of his young nephews in the handicapped stall of the men's room.
So anyway, the party starts at 7:00, so idiot me rolls up at 7:01. No one from my office is there yet, but about 30-40 other people from other offices are already there and having a good time, because they're all losers and have been waiting for this party the whole year because they have nothing else to do with their lives besides sitting in their shitty trailer homes and reading the TV Guide eventhough they don't own a TV. (But as the grandfather in the movie "The Lost Boys" said, "If you read the TV Guide, you don't NEED a TV." God, what an underrated movie that was.) Yeah, where was I...oh yeah...I don't know anybody. So as I walk in, I get my "HELLO, MY NAME IS:" tag, and receive my "THIS IS WORTH ONE DRINK AT THE BAR" ticket. Uhhh...one drink?!?! Do you know how much money I've made for this fucking company and how shitty you pieces of cunt pay me?!?! ONE FUCKING DRINK?? I couldn't believe it. So, seeing that no one I know is there yet, what do I do? You guessed it, I go and get my free drink. So I go and get my Jack and Coke, easy on the Coke, (a rule Julie seemed to ignore, but we'll get to that later...). Basically, I'm done with my free drink by 7:14. Ahhh...3 hours and 46 minutes of fun still to go! So I go back to the bar, finally some people I know show up, and get another Jack... When the bartender took my $10 and only gave me $4 back, I almost punched him the face. Great...not only do we only get one free drink, but the rest of the drinks cost six fucking dollars. (By the way, there was a reverend in here telling everyone to have a nice afternoon as I was just typing the word, "fucking".)
So now everyone finds a seat, and our regional manager gets on the mike, and explains that we've had a strong finish to a great year, "Blah blah blah sales, blah blah blah production, blah blah blah $6 drinks." So after his robotic ass says, "NOW LETS GET THIS PARTY STARTED!" and everybody cheers, DJ Neverbeenlaid hops on the 1 and 2 and starts playing shit you'd hear on 97.1. Here's where company parties take an absolute turn for the worst. Seeing the people that call themselves professionals, executives, whatevers, dance around to Snoop Dogg's "Drop It Like It's Hot" is fucking embarrassing to everyone watching, and even those who couldn't make it...and their families...and Vietnam War veterans...and retards...you see where I'm going. Basically, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. First off, 75 percent of the women at this party were obese....the other 25 percent were MORBIDLY obese. I've never seen so many back titties hopping around like those colored balls in a 2-year-old's Playskool vaccuum in all my life. Apparently when Snoop was saying, "Drop it like it's hot", he wasn't talking weight loss. But then, out came Jose...there's one of these guys at every company party I've ever been to. He's the guy you see at the clubs, who can actually dance, but every girl turns him down because he's 3 feet tall and a fucking homo. However, at the company party, he's a CHAMPION, because the women there are such ass-faces, that they love seeing a guy who can dance. So BOY does he turn it on, even using props like a napkin to "fan away the hottness" of the fat girl he was dancing with. I sat there, staring, hoping, that he would slip and break his back...never being able to dance again. Alas, it wasn't to be.
Then there's the part where they form a circle, then random people go into the circle and show off their hot dance moves. And when the regional manager gets dragged in there, everybody cheers and claps, and has a merry time. Me - I went back to the bar...at this time, I'm getting eerily close to the $40 mark, and dinner hasn't even been served yet.
Now it's time to do the raffle, last year they gave away American Express Gift Cheques, which was pretty good, especially during the holiday season. This year they gave away 2 movie tickets to Lowe's Cinemas. Apparently they spent $39.99 on this entire event, and I alomst quit my job when I found that out. Oh, and I almost forgot, you know how I mentioned the party started at 7? Well around 8:45 Julie shows up, and I swear to God, goes straight to the bathroom and is in there for a half an hour. During that time, everyone goes up to the buffet and eats, (which aside from the penne a la vodka because you'd have to be dead fetus to fuck that up, SUCKED. The chicken franchaise, another buffet staple, tasted like you ate the paper towel I lay down on the sink to catch the pubes I am currently shaving off of my penile region.) When she comes out of the bathroom, she can't carry on a conversation, or even stand for that matter...I wanted to say to her, "JULIE....REPRESENT!!" No one would have laughed but me...but it would have been worth it.
So the night drags on like that...music, dancing, drinking for what seemed like forever. The party was supposed to end at 11:00. I left at 10, only because if I had stayed there for 10 minutes more, and two more drinks, I would have rushed the dance floor, shoved Lil' Jose into the Toys for Tots table, and started doing the Macarena like it was my last night on Earth. Instead...I left. And I'm never going to another company party again...EVER.
ONLY 4 MORE SHOPPING DAYS LEFT! Ulgh... Here it comes again. Christmas week. So to get everyone in the holiday spirit, I'm going to talk about....masterbating.
Back in high school (or depending on when you first discovered that rubbing your genitalia made you feel sooooooo good) masterbating was extremely taboo. You didn't talk about it, because god forbid someone found out you did it, and it would be all over school and everyone would call you Bill "Pullman" and throw yogurt at you. As you get older, we all realized that hey...EVERYONE does it...even guys that get laid every goddamn day do it. And guess what...even GIRLS do it. (Which is such a turn on by the way). So we've come to the point in our lives where we've accepted this and can actually talk openly about it. We can see our friends on a Sunday and say things like, "Yeah, I got home last night at 3:00, turned on TV, and Showgirls was on, right at the scene where that guy bangs Jesse Spano in the pool and she flops around like a dolphin. So I jerked off and went to bed." Fifteen years ago if you told your buddy that, he'd say, "YOU JERKED OFF?! OH MAN!! READY...AIM...YOGURT!!!"
However, there is one instance where everything I just said goes completely out the window. And that's when you get caught. Fuck...I get queasy just thinking about it. Getting caught SUCKS. Eventhough, as I said, everyone does it...if you get caught everyone knows about it, and everyone makes fun of you behind your back. Unless you get caught by your parents...which is what happend to me years back. Quick story:
So I'm downstairs watching Skin-a-max at about 2:00 in the morning and my parents have been sleeping for hours. As I'm laying there on the couch, wearing my pants like leg warmers, and under a blanket, I hear footsteps approaching from the kitchen. Here's the dilamma...what do you do? Change the channel? Or pull your pants up. I opted to change the channel due to the fact that I was under a blanket. Enter my dad:
DAD: Get up, your mothers snoring.
ME: What??
DAD: I'm sleeping down here, go to the chair if you want to watch TV.
ME: Ok...but I GOT THE BLANKET!
So I wrap the blanket around me and hop to the recliner like the fucking Easter Bunny. So my father lays down on the couch for aboooooout 15 seconds and says, "I'll go sleep in the other room", and leaves. SNAGGED. Oh well, he never said anything about it, or looked at me weird, so it could have been much worse.
Another thing happened to me one time in college that made me look VERY bad. I told this story to a couple friends of mine the other day, so if they're reading this, yes I'm repeating myself. So my freshman year, I'm hooking up with this girl in my bed, and she decided to give me a hand job. (This was before I found handjobs unacceptable, because as I've stated in an earlier posting, I can give myself a handjob...at least put it in your mouth. Whatever...) So, she's going to town and sure enough, there I go...all over my shirt. However, I didn't realize this. I thought it was just on the sheets. Ulgh...moving on.... So we finish up, and I decide to stop by the room down the hall where a bunch of my friends were hanging out late night. So I walk in, everyone's been drinking and smoking for HOURS, and unfortunately where there's weed being smoked...there's black lights. There is no exception to this rule for some reason. So as you can predict, my shirt lit up like a fucking Christmas tree...with man chowder on it. Everyone looked at me with a weird glare, and because I didn't know that my shirt looked like a map of Indonesia, I thought nothing of it. About 30 seconds went by before I actually looked down at my shirt...about .0001 seconds after THAT, I was back out into the hallway and rushing down to my room to change. Apparently my friends thought I had just got done rubbing one out, I found this out later, but thank God my roomate had walked in on me and that girl, and knew that wasn't the case. Come to think of it, that story really had nothing to do with what I was talking about. I just find it funny. Yeah...I think I've talked about jerking off and bodily fluids enough for this holiday season. And I really have to go to the bathroom now. So everyone enjoy your holidays, I'll talk to you after them.
Well, a lot has changed in my life in the past week, as I, your Stabbing Motions author, is now engaged. I took the leap on Christmas Eve and haven't looked back. But rather than bore everyone with that sappy love story, I was reminded today of a grievences list I made a few years back. The reason I was reminded of this was because somebody said something to me about 2 hours ago that I CAN'T FUCKING STAND. It's on the list, and I'll get to it when I get to it. So without further ado, here is my list of things that piss me off.
PET PEEVES
1.) When you're at a guy's apartment and all he has to eat is low fat snack foods. Get some real chips, PUSSY. - This was written before I realized that I have to push my stomach aside to play with myself. Now I wish I took better care of myself, because tossing around my weiner is very important to me, and it will soon be difficult to do that due to my growing gut.
2.) When You're sitting there with your girlfriend watching TV and an unbelievably hot woman comeson the screen, and she says, "I don't even think she's THAT pretty." Uh, honey, you've got some crumbs on your gut. - If anyone said that about Kelly Kapowski, I'd knee then in the throat.
3.) Going to dinner with a fat guy and having him say, "I haven't eaten all day!" just to give him an excuse to order the whole fuckin' menu. - I went to dinner with a bunch of friends about 8 years ago and my fat friend ate a 36 ounce steak. He just so happened to say that statement before he ordered it. Watching him polish off that last bite made me fart.
4.) When a girl wears an extremely revealing outfit, and gets offended when she catches you staring at her exposed nipple. - I still have not perfected the cleavage peek. I'd say 6 times out of 10 I get caught. Fuck them though, if your titty's hanging out, I'm looking at it.
5.) Guys that walk up to a urinal, take out their dicks, and then put their hands on their hips like they're waiting for a fucking bus. Hold your dick, faggot, you're not impressing anybody. - Easily one of my biggest pet peeves. Guys that don't hold their junk while peeing are the biggest fuck holes on the planet. I was at Bar A in Belmar one time and one guy came in and actually rested his arm on my shoulder. I would have turned and peed on his leg if his action didn't give me stagefright.
6.) People who don't appreciate the humor in me taking a dump in their cat's kitty litter. You have a cat, you threw a party...really, it's your fault. - This is funny for SO many reasons.
7.) When employees at fast food joints refer to their registers as "computers". They have pictures of sandwiches on them, they're not used to launch missles, you high school dropout. - I had an experience with this at Pizza Hut one time. The guy took forever to ring us up and blamed it on the computer. Last time I checked, it's called a "cash register". I don't remember ever hitting a button on this computer and a drawer of money shooting out.
8.) People that actually have a unibrow. Everybody else in the room has two eyebrows. You have one. It's fixable. Fix it. - My old boss had one and I forgot this one was on it. It just so happened that he had a unibrow. Oh well...fuck him.
9.) People saying the words, "See ya next year!" on New Years Eve. Fuck you, asshole, I hope I never see you again. - Ah...the reason I wrote today's posting. I got my first "See ya next year!" today. GodDAMN I fucking hate that. And I'm sure I've said it in the past when I was younger. I will always hate myself for that.
10.) Women who get upset and disgusted when I tell jokes about dead babies. - I don't really, I just thought it was funny when I wrote it down.
11.) People who think dolphins are smart. Get real, they're just doing things because they're starving, and they know they get fish when they do. Even the simplest of creatures know this. For God's sake, if you dangle pussy in front of my face, I'll turn into fucking Einstein. - I've said this one before I think. Nothing would satisfy me more than kicking a dolphin square in the face.
12.) People who water their driveway. - There was a guy who lived on our block when I was a kid who used to rebuild his driveway every year, water it, and NEVER park a car on it. And each year, we would ride our bikes down it and make skid marks.
13.) When someone cuts you off on the highway and you go to slam on your horn, but you miss the little picture of the trumpet by about a half an inch, and the only sound you hear is the other car speeding away. - This happens to me at least twice a week. One of these days I'll figure out where the goddamn horn is.
14.) Seeing a "bicyclist" riding down the road with no hands. You're wearing a florencent pink helmet and tights...if you're trying to look cool, you failed that mission as soon as you walked outside. - I think I'm just jealous because for some reason i couldn't ride a bike with no hands. Why does that still aggrivate me?? FUCK.
There were actually a few other ones, but I thought they were stupid. I bet you're thinking, "Jeez...if THESE were the BEST....which ones did he leave OUT?!?!" Well if you think that, go eat my grundles. Have a Happy New Year! I'll see you next year!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH BLAM!!!!
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OK...I'm a little nervous. You know how I mentioned before that I got engaged? You DO!? WONDERFUL! Well my future wife, God bless her, has gone wedding crazy. The big day isn't going to be until July of 2006, but we've already started doing a bunch of stuff. For example, she signed us onto www.theknot.com to make up our guest list and find a reception hall, (which incidently I have FOUR appointments this weekend to go see different places. Sorry guys! I'll have to watch the playoffs with you NEXT YEAR.) But this isn't making me nervous, and it's not the whole wedding thing that makes me nervous...not in the least bit. It's what's going on tonight that makes me piddle in my pants. Tonight...I'm being "interviewed" by the priest.
Ulgh.
First of all, priests make me uneasy to begin with, and not because they do things that would make Michael Jackson blush, it's because I'm Catholic but only go to church at weddings and funerals. I don't think I've been to church on a Sunday just because it was Sunday since I was confirmed in 8th grade. Secondly, I'm afraid I'm gonna walk in there, and he's gonna say, "El Diablo!!" and run off screaming, all the whille throwing Holy Water on himself. When in turn I'll just shrug my shoulders and help myself to some "Blood of Christ".
But in all seriousness, I'm just afraid of what he's gonna ask. And what do you think question I'm most afraid of? Of course....the premarital sex question. Is he really gonna ask that?? And if he does...is it OK to lie to a priest?? And if no...why not?? Is "Thou Shall Not Lie" one of the Ten Commandments? NO! (At least I don't think it is, I haven't been to church since the last time someone died.) OK, I just checked, no, it's not one of the 10. Thanks Google!
Another thing that worries me is if he asks us to pray. Now hey, like anybody who went to Sunday School or CCD, I know my "Our Father" and "Hail Mary", you don't have to go to church every week to know those. But during church, (when either someone is getting married, or if a friend of the family fell under a bus), there are some prayers where everyone talks for about 45 seconds, and I have NO CLUE as to what they're saying. I don't even know where it comes from, or even when they start saying it, but let me tell you, it's a lot of words, and EVERYONE knows it but me. I just hope he doesn't ask to hear that. If he does, maybe I'll take my balls out of my pants to distract him. Great...I hope he's reading this.
Now, everyone I talk to has told me not to worry about it. "It's no big deal, they just reserve a date for you to get married in church", they say. "Oh, they don't make you pray, you fuckin' idiot", exclaim others. Well whatever, I'm still nervous. It makes me nervous to the point where it actually loosens my stool, and I have to take a liquid shit, like when you found a good hiding spot when you played hide-and-seek when you were a kid. I just hope the priest doesn't want to play hide-and-seek with his cock and my anus, because he's the one who decides if we get married or not, and due to the way I've led my life as a Catholic, I might have to let him play.
Well, I saw THIS coming a mile away. This is from Mike: (No not the crippled kid in my office, one of my readers)
Are you going to get all pussy on us now that you're "engaged"??
I can go somewhere else for the classic fart and dick jokes, ya know.
First of all, the last two posts have been written since I've been one half of a betrothed couple...and if you'll notice, the words "fart" and "dick" appear in both. Second of all...well...I know where you're coming from. As I was writing the last one I said to myself, "Don't start turning this into a script for TLC's "A Wedding Story", Homo..." Don't worry, this will be the last time I mention it...until the bachelor party, of course.
(One more thing, and I know I'm contradicting what I just said, but about the meeting with the priest last night. It went OK, but I feel REALLY guilty for the way I live my life now. They're really good at doing that. So now I'm going to be an alter boy on Sundays. And if Father Whoever wants a lapdance, I guess I have to give it to him.)
Anyway, thanks for writing in Mike, now go into a closet, lie on your back, put your legs up against the wall, and try to suck your own dick, because the only mouth that's gonna touch that little guy is your own.
Fart.
I have to apologize, all this week I'm taking a class in order to prepare myself for taking the series 6/63 exams, which are Life & Health Insurance and annuities. Once I pass these exams, I will hopefully start making more than minimum wage.
Anyway, I have to mention something before I have to get back to class. Our instructor, nice guy, but about 80/82 years old. And I'm not kidding, he's admitted this. On the first day...Monday, he explained that the classes, which are scheduled to last until 5:00, probably won't go longer than 3:00 because about 2 weeks ago he was diagnosed with cancer of the vocal chords. So obviously if he talks for too long, he feels a little strained, and starts to lose his voice. And that sucks, because like I said, he's a nice guy. Well...today during a quick review of the earlier chapters, he was standing in front of my table and talking. He's an old man...when he talks, some spit comes out, and he's too old to realize it. Well, he was talking about exclusion riders of a life insurance policy, and a globule of spit came out of his mouth, and landed on my bottom fucking lip. I almost tossed my breakfast sandwich all over his pants. What if it was phlegm? And what if that phlegm rubbed against his cancerous throat? Do I have lip cancer now?? BLECH. I'm still skeeved by the thought of this event. Dammit, that was gross...I might as well have made out with him.
Whatever...anyway, I have to go back to class to take my afternoon spit shower. Sorry for the short posting, and don't expect me to make it up next time.
I take tests about as well as Connor Peterson swims. (Too soon?) Well, if you can't guess why I'm saying that, it's because I have to take the fucking State Licensing Exam again because I missed the "Law" part of it by two fucking questions. Dammit...I just hate the fact that I have to go back there. It sucked. Let me explain:
* The receptionist is a CUNT. But I would be too if I sat there by myself all day watching loser after loser come in and have to tell them how to hang up their coat.
* The room you take the test in is dark and creepy. They even give you ear plugs incase you want to drown out the sound of silence.
* The test was fucking HAAAAAAAARRRRRDDDD.
* The most annoying part about the whole experience is that when I was finished, I went up to the receptionist, or administrator, or whatever the fuck they call that miserable bitch that sits behind the desk with her underwear showing, to get my score. She tells me to sit in a chair in front of this camera to wait for a picture. So now I figure, "Great!! I passed, and this is for their records or to put on the license or something." Well, she says, "You have to come back again and see us." FUCK. So she hands me this "Certificate of Failure"...WITH MY PICTURE ON IT. (?!?!?!?!?) It's not bad enough that it has my name and social security # on it with the word "FAIL" on thick black letters? You have to throw my picture on there too? And thanks for telling me that I failed AFTER the picture was taken...I thought I was posing for something, so this failure document has a nice black and white picture of me SMILING on it. I look like I have Down Syndrome because retards can't tell the difference between good news and bad news...they just smile and growl. Whatever...so hopefully when I take it again next week, it'll be the same questions. That'll be the only way I pass.
In other news, something so goddamn aggrivating happened to me yesterday. Right next door we have a Subway [sandwich shop]. Good in one way because it's right next door, bad in another because you smell their "Freshly Baked Bread" every second of the day. Thanks Jared, you fat NERD. Anyway, I walk in there yesterday to get a 12-inch meatball marinara, and notice that there's a new guy, and he's the one who has the pleasure of helping me. Well as it turns out, the guy must've just escaped from the Border Patrol about 3 days ago, because he barely spoke a word of English. Now this is where it gets annoying, this guy who was probably living in a mud hut a week ago starts to ring me up. I get chips and a drink because that's what you do, and it comes out to $7.32. QUE?? The fuckin' sandwich is 4.79...how does the "meal" cost over TWO DOLLARS more?? So I look at him and think, "If I complain...is he really gonna understand what I'm saying?" The shitty part is that I only had $7.00 on me, so I looked at my measly 7 singles, looked at him, and said, "Take away the drink." So it came out to $6.12. Great. After he told me to have a nice day, which was pronouced, "Ha Goo dayyy", I said, "Whatever" and left. I HATE being taken advantage of, and not in the "My uncle put my hand on his genitals" kind of way. The way that if you open your mouth to complain about a puny $1.06, you'll be there for an additional 5 minutes trying to get everything settled, and that cuts into your lunch hour. Christ, I think I'm gonna toss a both a male and female rat into their back door and see how fast I can get that fucking place condemned.
So tomorrow I'm supposed to go see a Broadway show with my girlfriend, my parents, and her parents. I hate Broadway. We might postpone it because it's supposed to be a blizzard or something tomorrow. "Let it snoooww, Let it snoooww, let it snoowwwwww....." Have a smashing weekend...
WOW...you know what I'm sick of??? Hearing about how wonderful Johnny Carson was. Nobody talks about this guy for over a decade, and as soon as he dies, people start coming out of the woodwork, weeping their eyes out, and saying, "He was a hero to us all" type of shit. Nobody's saying he wasn't funny, especially me, the guy had comic genious in him more than anyone can understand. But apparently he was an ASSHOLE to everyone. The big thing though was that if you were a comedian and after you did your act on his show and he raised his lazy thumb in the air at you, it meant you were a star. Wow, he gave you a thumbs up! Why don't you you jam both thumbs up your own ass.
The same thing happened when Frank Sinatra died. This guy was the definintion of a "bully"...he just happened to have a nice voice. Think if you were in high school, and some guy everyday threw you into your locker and stole your Trapper Keeper, but just so happened to win the choir competitions (do they exist in real life?) every year because his voice was angelic. If he was walking through the gym one day and one of those huge gym lights fell on his skull and killed him, do you think he should be mourned?? He was a COCKSUCKER. The only purpose he had in life was to sing. And it just so happened that Sinatra made a lot of money doing that. There's a line in one of my favorite gangster movies, "A Bronx Tale", about this same subject. Young Cologisuyrso is talking to the mob boss Sonny about Mickey Mantle. Sonny says to him, "Mickey Mantle? What are you worried about him for? The man makes $100,000 a year...how much does your father make? Go ask Mickey Mantle for help when your father can't pay the rent, see how much of a nice guy he is." (Not that I'm saying anything about Mickey Mantle...I wouldn't DARE.) But this is a great quote. If you went up to Sinatra for a favor, he'd probably have someone kill you. But God forbid people would realize he was a douche and not buy his records, making him broke...then I bet he would be a fucking saint. Fuck him, he's rotting in hell for sure. I hope Johnny Carson didn't hurt himself on the fall down there too.
Here's the thing I'm waiting for, and if it happens, I swear I'm going on a killing spree. Say next year, there are complications in nose surgey, and Michael Jackson dies. So help me God if people start crying over this and show tribute programs on TV, I'm gonna run as fast as I can down the street and dive head first into a sewer, hoping that the opening is too small to fit my fat head, so as to hurt myself to the maximum it can hurt. This guy, who I believe is in his FORTIES, has sex with children. Not that it's any better or worse, but most of the children are boys. Boys that are so young, they don't comprehend that a man his age would be a threat to them. One because he talks like a pre-pubescent homo, two because he acts like a pre-pubescent homo. He gets boys drunk, and twidles their little peters with his witch-like fingers, and when the kids realize that this shouldn't be happening, he denies doing it to the public, but pays the kid's family off because he knows the truth will come out. Here's the kicker, when I was a kid, I used to LOOOOVE Michael Jackson. I went to one of his concerts, (maybe I shouldn't say that...eh whatever), I collected his trading cards, and tried my goddamndest to learn how to Moonwalk. So it's not like I never liked the guy...I was a HUGE fan of his and his music. And guess what? There were hundreds of MILLIONS of people who were fans of his just the same. But guess what? That was 20 years ago. Now, after a long day of climbing trees and riding ostriches, he has intercourse with 11 year old boys. SHAMON!!
All I'm saying is that everybody needs to calm the fuck down with all this teary eyed tribute shit, at least to the people that wouldn't give a SHIT about you if you weren't important, weren't rich, or weren't a young boy willing to lose your virginity to a man that's more frightening than a fucking Sleestack. www.landofthelost.com
I wanted to write this posting on Monday, but I've been relatively busy for the past couple days doing actual work at work. Go figure. There was just a few things from this weekend that I wanted to talk about, then I actually have to go back to work. (Yeah right...I'm done with doing work for the day, my afternoon will consist of me reading ESPN Page 2, staring at a piece of paper with words on it, and e-mailing people I know about...hmm let's see...today lets talk about robots and how DUMB they are. Yeah, that's a good topic.) Anyway, on to the weekend...
FRIDAY
Didn't me writing "FRIDAY" remind you of the movie "The Shining"? "Come play with us Danny!" I wonder what that kid Danny, or guy Danny now, is doing these days. $100 says he's giving someone a handjob behind an A & P. (???) Uhhh...yeah, so what was I saying? Ah...Friday. Friday was my brother's birthday so he and his friends met up with myself and a couple of my friends at this bar called "Crossroads". Kind of a GAY name in my opinion, it sort of sounds like a self-help group for drug addicts and/or child molestors. But it's not. So the reason we went there was because there was a Guns 'N Roses tribute band playing there that night. (I know what you're thinking...just read.) I was looking forward to it because hey, who didn't own "Appetite for Destruction" when they were younger? Honestly, probably one of the top 3 albums of our generation, (Along with Pearl Jam's "Ten" [which is a shame, because Eddie Veder is probably behind the A & P with Danny from The Shining these days], and U-2's "Joshua Tree". You can agree with me or not, I don't give a flying fuck.)
So the band comes on, and when "Axel" comes out, I have to admit, I wanted to shove the chair I was sitting in up my own ass. He acted JUST like Axel Rose, and his voice was pretty exact. So as time went on, and they sang song after song...honestly...I came to the realization that these guys kick some serious ASS. As dumb as it is to be a "tribute" band, I really enjoyed them, they did a hell of a job. (And you may be wondering why I think "tribute" bands are dumb...well if you're actually wondering why, then you're as dumb as THEY are.)
The best thing about going to this was the girl watching. And by "girl watching", I mean staring at the fucking white trash bitch behind me dance like she was filled to the brim with heroin. It was quite a show, and when her boyfriend, or husband, or for all I know BROTHER, started to dry hump her in the middle of the place, causing her to shake violently and make her knees buckle, I couldn't have opened my eyes and mouth more. It was a spectacle. Other girls, like the one sitting to my 7:00 and the one at my 2:00, went up on stage to show off their hot new dance moves they just learned from Whore Magazine, along with one of the Magazine's founders, (you know who she is, short leather miniskirt, bleach blond hair, mid-drift fully exposed, and hooker boots). 7:00 was pretty fucking hot, while 2:00 WOULD have been hot, if her ass wasn't the size of Jabba the Hut's skull. Anyway, all in all it was a good time, I'd definitely go back.
SATURDAY
White guys that dance to hip-hop music and mouth words to every song, all the while moving their arms like their actually the one performing the song should be driven out to the desert, smothered in BBQ sauce, and left for the buzzards. To understand what I'm talking about, you should have been with me at "Jimmy's" in Morristown. I went with a few people because it was someone-I-don't-know's birthday. She showed up with someone-I-don't-give-two-shits-about and HER friends, die-tomorrow-and-I-still-won't-care & don't-talk-to-me-it's-awkward. One of the guys who was part of the group is the one I was referring to at the beginning of this paragraph. He's about 4 foot 9, glasses, and dresses like it's casual Friday at the office. Yet this little "Lloyd Banks" thinks he's the next member of G-Unit. Boo-YAA! However, he's not the only one I've seen do this. Sometimes it seems like people just forget where they are at times and think, while they're at the bar/club, that they're actually in the shower. They dance and perform each song like they co-wrote the fuckin' thing, or at least came up with the choreography for the goddamn video. Well here and now I'm demanding a stop to all this. The next time I see anyone doing said act outside of their home, unless they're taller than 5 feet and weigh over 120 pounds, they're recieving a royal taint pounding.
Other than that Jimmy's was a good time...real meat market for the single guys, many tits to stare at. I highly recommend. Anyway, that's all I have to say about Saturday, now I have to go do stuff. 'Till next time. Enjoy the Superbowl...GO GIANTS!
So....it's February 9th, eh? That's awesome....
Yeahhhh, soooooo....I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to talk about today or the this past week...so I'm leaving it up to you. If there's a topic you want me to talk about, or something you want me to rant on, or if you wanna give a "shout-out" to your homies out there "keeping it real", e-mail me, and I'd be happy to share my opinions. (Except if you actually send me a shout-out, because then I'll be forced to kill your family.) So e-mail the address below if you have a topic. Anything at all, I have no boundaries, (as you may have figured out by now), so until I get a subject, you won't hear from me. If I get a bunch, I guarantee I'll write a little thing every single fucking day...*this is not a guarantee. Hope to hear from you soon.
(And if you're thinking, "What a hack...he can't think of anything else??"...then you're absolutely right.)
You know...I haven't talked about work in quite a while, and work was the main reason I started writing this stupid "blog". But things are happening around here that are getting me a little excited. Whoo boy...let me calm down for a second before I start going off.....whoo.....(deep breath)...(exhale)...JULIE AND MIKE ARE LEAVING. There, I said it...it's out...the day has come. This is what's going on:
Yesterday I was busy at my desk all morning doing irrelevant things, and Mikey was on the phone, on the internet, not doing a goddamn bit of work, which is odd because Mike, as I said MONTHS ago, is the model employee. (Except for the way he leaves the bathroom, but I'm not getting into that again.) So I get an IM from one of the girls who works here, (the one I DON"T talkabout), and it says, "Is Mike leaving?" My heart obviously jumped, so I replied, "WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT...IS IT TRUE???????" Apparently when he was on the phone in the morning, he was talking to HR, and I guess she saw that the screen on his computer had a transfer request on it. (I'm grabbing a paper bag and breathing into it.) So I confront him about it after lunch because I was DYING with curiosity. Conversation:
ME: Sooo...what's goin' on there, Mike?
HIM: (sigh)...ahhh...I don't know.
ME: What's wrong?
HIM: Did you get your performance review last week?
ME: Yeah, you?
HIM: Yeah...it wasn't too good.
ME: Oh...that sucks. (trying to fight back a grin)
HIM: Yeah, Chris said that if my numbers don't pick up by the end of the month, I'm out of here. He also said that this job might not be for me and that I may be better suited in back office. (Which is like telling a TV personality that they're not good looking enough for TV, and suggesting they go to radio.)
ME: Wow...so where are you looking.
HIM: BLAH BLUH BLECH....
It's amazing...I can't believe it's actually happening. And then, just when you thought I was done, I get a phone call this morning from some random guy calling to confirm Julie's employment here. Whoo....(deep breath)...(exhale)... Obviously when someone calls to confirm employment it means they're looking for a new job. That or a loan, and I doubt she's getting a loan from anyone...anyone rational at least. So I said to the guy that she works here, he asked my name, and that was it. Here's my dilemma, I SHOULD have said, "Yeah, I guess she works here, but she's late everyday and sticks needles into her arm in the bathroom. Believe it or not I've actually seen her fall asleep while she was standing and almost fall over. Her work isn't half-assed...it's quarter-assed, and she has the intelligence of a dish towel." Hey...it's the truth, but guess what, it would make her NOT get the job, leaving her HERE for another month or so. Result: I had to keep my mouth shut just to make sure she's out of here as quick as possible. Dammit, that could have been fun.
So there's the update, it's a very exciting time around here. The air smells better, food tastes fresher, it doesn't burn when I pee.
Today is a good day. Today is a VERY good day. Today is a day that will live in infamy. Today....Julie is no more.
BOO-YEAHHHHH!!!
Last Saturday, she was supposed to come in to work at 8:45. Well, 8:45 came and went and we got a call at about 10:00 that she was in the emergecy room because of an asthma attack. (Insert general concern...but not really) So obviously she wasn't coming in. Seeing that everything in this place is under dual control because of security issues, she has the bottom key to my and the manager's top key to the lock box. We needed her bottom key that day, so she sent her sketchy boyfriend down to the office to deliver her keys. Seeing that it's Julie, we just assumed that her story is bullshit, so when her 4 foot boyfriend named "Saboo" came in, (that's his real name, I swear to God) we asked him a bunch of questions to see if her story checked out. Well either it was the truth or he's a good liar, because it seemed that she was actually at the hospital. Not exactly sure for what, but I guess she was there.
Enter Monday, she's supposed to come in, but there's no word from her. No phone call, no nothing. Enter Tuesday, she's supposed to come in, but again...nothing. Now for all of the people out there who work for a living, you know that if you miss three consecutive days without making any kind of contact to your job, it's called "Abondonment" and it's automatic termination. So Tuesday night, I went home...and I did something I haven't done in a very long time. I prayed. I prayed that Julie wouldn't come in, I prayed that she wouldn't call, I prayed that she was in the hospital because of an overdose, I prayed that she left the hospital...tripped...and fell into a noose. Well guess what...my prayers were answered. (All except the overdose and suicide, but for all I know it could have actually happened.) She never came in and never called. So the termination letter went out yesterday evening, and she is no longer an employee at this company. And you know what...I LOVE IT. And I'm not just saying that. I love it like Mark Wahlberg loved Reese Witherspoon in the movie "Fear" love it. I just wish I was computer literate enough to put some animated balloons and confetti on this fucking piece of shit website.
So now, I don't know what to do with myself. I can't complain about her anymore, I can't make fun of the way it sounds like she's chewing on the part of her brain that deals with "thinking" everytime she talks. I can't make fun of her "looks like someone did jumping jack on her her ass" ass. I feel a little lost. Oh, but wait a minute...Mike is still here. But I only see him being here until the end of the month. Then he'll go bye-bye. Then maybe I can get some work done without being to busy punching myself in the ball bag due to disgust and frustration. I don't know...but that day is coming. And maybe by then I'll figure out how to put balloons and confetti on this thing.
So like I said, this week has been pretty lucky for me...I'm going down to Atlantic City tonight and staying at the Borgata. I hope my luck will stay with me as I try to take away more of that casino's bankroll. I hope I have a great time. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope...
I know what you're thinking, that is if I still have readers left...where have you been? Well, if you remember, two postings ago I said that if there was a topic that someone wanted me to expand upon, I would gladly do it. Well, I only got two responses...TWO. One asking if I could complain about Valentines Day, and one from some idiot who wanted me to talk about a NASCAR party that I didn't even go to. Thanks everyone for your wonderful suggestions.
So what have I been doing? Some days I try to see if I can crash through a wall like the Kool-Aid man used to do. "OH YEAH!" Some days I go into dark rooms filled with strangers and play "Who's In My Mouth." It's actually a good game, all you need is a dark room filled with strangers, dice, and surgical gloves. The rules are self-explanatory, but flexible. Most days I've been here at work, where believe it or not, I've been extrememly busy becoming one of the top lenders in the NY/NJ area...no joke. Meanwhile, the gentleman in my office of whom you all know by know, Mike, hasn't gotten business since the election. He's STILL here, but I'm assuming he's on borrowed time. Shame.
A Julie update...she fled the country. Literally. Nobody knows where she is, but looking at her account, she's done transactions in Toronto. I hope Canada makes crack, too, because their demand just doubled with the appearance of that stupid bitch. Funny thing also, I guess another guy called for employment verification because she's trying to get a job somewhere. I answered the phone:
GUY: Yes, is Julie there please?
ME: Ooo...yeah, she doesn't work here.
GUY: Hmm...I was under the impression that she was working there.
ME: Well, your impression was incorrect.
GUY: (chuckle)
ME: (chuckle-chuckle)
GUY: OK, thanks
ME: Anytime, Bob. (Took a stab at his name, don't think it was Bob though.)
So hopefully she's dead.
So here's the deal...this is my last posting. I know this may come as a shock to all my fans, but I'm sure both of you will be fine without me. This website has kind of become a pain in the ass, and there are times where I just don't have the time to do it or I have absolutely nothing to talk about because my life is quite uneventful. And I swear to god, if I get any e-mails telling me that I suck for quitting, I'll piss on you like a 13 year old Korean girl at R.Kelly's apartment.
The purpose of this website, which I've stated before a couple times, was to relieve my stress at work because I was losing my fucking mind. It was making me so crazy that sometimes I would go home at night, throw on a pair of tights and climb trees just to sit and watch over the neighborhood looking for evildoers. Now THAT'S CRAAAZZZZZYYYYLoidljkn;sKLD'opk!!!! But seriously, I've calmed down significantly since I started this fuckin' thing, and I've stopped making stabbing motions in the bathroom. So now, I think it's time to step down and stop making "Stabbing Motions" TM the website. Hopefully you've had fun over the past 10/11 months, I know I have. I wish you all a painless death. Go fuck yourselves.
ps......
Mike: Are you working on Saturday?
Me: (sigh) No.
Mike: WHY NOT?
Me: (angrily puzzled) Uhhh...because I'm not on the schedule.
Mike: Yeah, but you weren't here on Monday.
Me: Right, I took a day to go golfing, you knew that.
Mike: But, you shou--
Me: HEY MIKE!!! When's your last day?!?!
Mike: Saturday.
Me: THANK FUCKING GOD.
This conversation actually took place. And yes, Mike is leaving. I know I signed off on this thing a while ago, but the fact that one of my mortal enemies is leaving my life, I felt it was important to let the people who actually read this website know that big news. His last day is Saturday, and I swear to God, I'm counting the fucking seconds. He irritates me more now than he EVER HAS, and it's just because it's near the end of his time here, and I can't wait for him to leave. You know when you really have to go to the bathroom, and you start walking to the potty, but when you actually lay your eyes on the actual toilet, it feels that if you pants don't immediately disappear, you're going to blast shit everywhere. That's what it's like...now that I know the end is near, it's driving me more insane than ever before.
Believe it or not, right now I'm on a conference call and supposed to be listening to these people who think this place is much more important than it really is. I've already gone to take a shit, and now I'm typing this. My dedication to this company in unparalleled.
Back to how much Mike blows...
My boss asked us to go out on Friday night for dinner to celebrate Mike's moving on. I looked at him, and I swear to Fuck this is what I said, "Friday's no good...how about never." Why am I gonna go to dinner with this dick-hole when I can't fucking stand him?!? I know if I was leaving, he wouldn't spend a dime on me, why should I spend a PESO on this one-armed fuck stain? (TV timeout...this girl with ENORMOUS breasts just walked in here and they're pouring out of her shirt.)
It's now 3 minutes later...
So where was I... yeah, anyway, Mike sucks. The thing is, I don't think he knows how I feel about him. Which worries me, because when he leaves, he might try to hug me. And I don't know what's worse, having to shake his lame hand, or hugging him. (I know what you're thinking, but none of you mother fuckers ever shook this guy's hand before. It's as uncomfortable as your uncle cornering you in the bathroom on Christmas Eve and asking you what size shoes you have.) The way he holds it is creepy, but not as creepy as the AMOUNT OF TIME he holds it for. Handshakes should go like this: GRAB, UP, DOWN, REALEASE. His are more like: GRAB, UP, DOWN, UP, DOWN, UP, DOWN...HOLD IT...HOLD IT...HOLD IT...STARE INTO MY EYES...HOLD IT...RELEASE. It feels like it's a week long. I swear to you, if he hugs me, and he refuses to let go, I'm gonna turn his good arm into a stump.
Well, I have three days to worry about that shit, and trust me, I will be. Now I have to go, and don't think that I'm back...this was just a follow-up. (Although it was nice to be back for a second.)
HOLY CRAP...ONE MORE THING...
Mike just came up to me and asked what I was doing for the holiday weekend...blah blah blah...I asked him what he was doing, (not that I give a half of a shit), he said his dad wanted to play golf, but he can't because his arms are two different lengths. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Mike...enjoy the rest of your life, buddy, I hope you have worse luck in the future. Good God...
