Thursday, December 25, 2008
Ahhh, the tree. Notice the best present in the world sitting next to the worst. Who gives calenders as gifts. Hey, thanks for reminding me how much crap I have to do in January. Argh.
In the Bible it says, "Spare the rod, Spoil the child." Well....up yours Jesus, rod spared, and child spoiled.
These are the contents of my xmas stocking. CVS isle 9.
Then came this next gift which was from my ma to my sister. It was a blanket with my nephews and their dog on it. I'm not sure how to really take it to be quite honest. Its a bit freaky. I find it amazing that someone actually has the ability to sew photographs into a blanket, and blown away that there's a market for such a thing. How is it that Circuit City is going out of business, but the face blanket guy is still up and running? Dont answer that. If I had kids, would I want a blanket of them? No, probably not......Knowing my ma, i'd get one anyways. Either way, next year I want one with my bike on it.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Every year? Really? I mean, is this all really necessary? I guess if i was 12 then the answer would be yes, but since i am a good 20 years past that, the answer is undoubtedly NO. The vacation side of it is amazing. Nobody loves not working more than me, except of course people on welfare that actually get paid for not working, that would be the jam. So lets keep the tradition of taking time off at the end of every year, but lets skip the tree and lights crap. Kill the presents too. I don't need another red sweater, or Starbucks gift cards, or the inevitable pair of tube socks in my stocking. A sock, with socks in it? Yes, i still get a stocking. For a few years i was like, "Ma, i don't need a stocking on Xmas." Then she didn't make me one, and Xmas morning comes, and I'm friggin left out cuz everyone else has a stocking. Sticking out sucks, sticking out without a stocking full of socks, deodorant, toothpaste, and carmex is a whole other ball of wax. Ok, so lets kill the tree and lights crap, but still leave the stocking part, that's kinda fun. Not only that, but who likes going to CVS for such trivial items, when you can save the trip by showing up to xmas morning. I should maybe try and think of the positives of Xmas.....hold on, let me think.
playing video games with the kids and not getting judged for being 34 and still playing video games.
20 minute pre-meal prayers.
Starbucks gift cards.
wait...this is headed to negative town.....turn it around.
argh....come on Dec 26th!!!!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
I don't care what anybody tells you. Sales meeting suck. Its like going back to school and I hated school. Squirming in my chair, waiting for recess, or lunch, or really anything besides the desk that i was sitting at. The only positive thing about school, was that there was girls there. So sales meetings are worse than school...cuz there's no girls. People often inquire about the fun that's to be had at these meetings. " Hey man, heard you were in Vegas, that must have been amazing!!" Well sir, no it was not. I could relate the amazement of a sales meeting, to the amazement of dripping lime juice in your eyeballs for three days strait, with no girls around. Not so much you know?
Off I drove.....yes, i drove. I have a prius, and driving to Vegas in a hybrid is kinda like a sore dick, you just cant beat it. Cost me $28 in gas, and i don't have to touch dirty airplane seats on a Southwest flight. And if I'm being honest here, Southwest is kinda like a Greyhound bus with wings...friggin filthy. Cloth seats on public transportation equals disease. So it took me bout 4 hrs....i reckon about the same time it would to get to the airport, get strip searched and jelly fingered, fly, wait for a cab, and drive to
the hotel. Plus, its much quieter and i can practice my turrets while driving naked. Something that i couldn't do on the plane....legally anyway.
I arrive at the border, and the definition of Vegas is right there on the side of the rode. This casino really hit the nail on the head. Why deny it....this guy said, "Screw it", and named his joint....Terrible Casino....Brilliant. I'm guessing by the "s" at the end of terrible that they are having difficulties with the English language. Funny how no one had the courtesy to correct them before the sign went up. You'd think they had spell check at the place where they make signs, but its Vegas so those dudes are probably cracked out.
Soon after i crossed the border i ran into this idiot. I love vanity plates!!! They're like fat people, I cant help but to stare in amazement and laugh at the same time. The difference is that vanity plates are much gayer than most fat people, but cost less than 4,763 hamburgers. This one I'm guessing translates to "chasing heaven" hahahahaah. You re driving to Vegas dude. Isn't that considered hell to religious people? I've heard of chasing the dragon....but heaven? Really? Why the chase? Just kill yourself, and maybe the chase will be over. I'm surprised at the lack of suicide in the religious communities. If heaven's so wonderful...how come they don't just go? I'm confused.
Got to Vegas, checked in. Spent 3 days in a conference room with small breaks and meals in between. Hanging out with sales managers which is always a blast. These are the men that hold your job over your head. They're similar to a diaper i guess, always on your ass, and often full of shit. Its part of the job, so you have to deal with it.
There is up sides to meetings though. Its the people that are more miserable than you, and in turn, make you feel less miserable yourself. Dewey is one of em. If you gave this guy a 100 bucks he'd find away to complain about it. His nickname is actually Doobie, cuz he like the devils lettuce a bit more than most. He actually told me that there was cameras all over the casino, and in his room. Paranoid much? I was curious about this, and asked the lady at the desk if such was true. She said no, but with a weird face. Normally this would worry me, but even if they did see me doing weird shit to myself naked in the middle of the floor, it would most likely just look like a guy trying to rub the paint off a tic-tac, and hence, not much to see.
Vegas Blows, Dewey Rules, and Vanity Plates Are Gay.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Maybe i have been doing a little too much obsessing about Brit Brit lately. Normally i would never say such things, but last night i had the weirdest dream about her. Not sure about you , but when I dream, i never really remember how they start. Its as if there is no start and the middle of the dream is actually when it starts. Its all relative i guess, so the middle is the beginning even though the beginning of my dream was actually the middle? I don't know. Either way Brit Brit and I were somewhere out and about separately at a bar, or club. I decided that when i saw her i had nothing to lose, so i went up to her and asked her for her phone number. Of course its a dream, and more importantly its MY dream, and we all know that it would be a dream to get Brit Brit's number, so in my dream...she gave it to me. The problem is that she kept telling me the number and i kept getting it wrong. She would say 10 digits, i would write them down and show them to her to make sure they were right, and they weren't. Over and over i kept asking her and she would tell me again and again, but i never could get them right.I was getting SO frustrated. Why couldn't i get it right?? Its Brit Brit!!! What does that mean?? Next thing i remember, i was giving her a piggy-back ride, running down the street thinking the paparazzi was following us, but then when i turned around, no one was. It was so weird, i thought for sure we were being chased, but nothing. We ended up at this old apt building that I've never lived at in real life, but i did recognize it from previous dreams. I hadn't been there in awhile so i was trying to put my key in all these different apt doors until one finally worked out. We finally got in the apt, and there was Seinfeld DVDs all over the floor, and my friend Berto's bicycle was there, along with his motorcycle leathers. It was as if i moved out, but left a bunch of stuff there.....Then my alarm went off, and poof........there went Brit Brit.
Dreams are amazing. I gave Brit Brit a piggy-back ride to my apartment. I love her.