Friday, July 29, 2005

I'm still Marvin, but, for now, I'm OK with it!

Ok, so, yeah I'm feeling a little better today. Or at least I was until I saw four things:

1: Herr Vogler's latest posting just about sent me in to a fit (the topic, not his view on it...I agree with him).

2: My contact for film work finally got back to me. Which would seem fan-fucking-tastic if he hadn't told me that just about every job he was trying to line up seems either to be in a perpetual state of limbo, or to have just flat died all together.

3: NASA has grounded the shuttle program.......again (FUUUUUUCK)!

4: The House passed CAFTA - In all honesty, I don't really know much of anything about the agreement, but if Dubya's administration came up with it, it can't be good for anyone except Dubya and his lackeys. What I'm really upset aboot is the way it was passed. The whole partisan political mentality (and I don't just mean by the Republicans, but in this case, them in particular...they are worse about it after all) that you need to blindly support any and everything that your President churns out just to help him save face (particularly when he's in serious need of having his ass handed to him anyway) just makes my blood boil. If you're not sure what I'm talking about here's the link to the story:

The White House went well above and beyond any reasonable and sensible effort to get this thing pushed through. For one, the fact that the bill passed by two votes speaks volumes on how potentially awful it could be, and two, breaking every House voting policy and tradition to wring two more votes out of the cloth is just insane...

I don't know, I guess I just don't know enough about politics to really get it, and in the end, I suppose I'm better for it anyway. The less I know about the process, the better my blood pressure will be (let's face it, do I sound like someone who needs more aggravations?).

Wednesday, July 27, 2005


So anyway, I seem to be feeling the happiest, and yet concurrently, the most depressed I've ever felt in my entire life. I am so totally stoked about the baby that I could pop, but at the same time, just about everything else in my life is equivalent to a heaping pile of monkey shit. I guess I'm just bummed that I can't seem to get things together musically. I know I've entered a field where I have to make things happen, but that just isn't feasible right now, and won't be for about three or four YEARS!!! Don't get me wrong, I absolutely, positively, in no way, shape or form whatsoever regret having a baby right now. Actually, in the grand scheme of things, it's probably an ideal time. I know my wife's happy; she's downright bubbly about it. And she's never been more radiant or beautiful (no I don't get off on preggies, but the 'glow' is real enough). As a couple, we've been getting along better than ever (not that that was ever a real problem anyway). But...

I hate my job; I hate most of the people I work with and for (more on that in a minute). I haven't composed anything of note (hah! that's pun-ny) in months. My one source of potential film projects seems to have disappeared of the face of the Earth. I've paid off several bills, but I still seem to have just as many as before (*in an English accent* Oh God, I'm soooo depressed!). Oh well, welcome to life I guess!

As for 'work', well, let me elaborate a little (not a lot, really!) on why I hate it so much. First there's my shift manager whom I shall from henceforth refer to as Big Bad Hindu Mamma, or BBHM. Let me start by saying that I know how Peter felt in Office Space. I basically answer to 3 ( in more than two) people. My immediate supervisor, the deaf queer (he's not really gay, it's just fun to torment him about it...but he is deaf), may be the only truly intelligent person other than my mother and myself on our floor. I can live with him...he's a good guy...just hard to understand on occasion. Then there's his first boss, and also my boss, BBHM. She is neither bad (in the blaxploitation film sense), nor Hindu (she's not really a mom either - never had kids). She is however a mildly retarded, über-cow. She worked as a call center floor manager for a major credit card company for 20 years before coming to the bank. While there, she was shipped to India to open and train the call center that her company was outsourcing there. She likes to think that she has some special super-power that enabled her to be chosen for the assignment when in actuality she was simply the most qualified, and had seniority. We're talking about a woman, whom by her own admission, majored in 'Bar Hopping' in college, graduating with a low B/high C average. She came back to the States with an array of various native garbs, which she likes to wear to work regularly (she has one on now as a matter of fact). Problem is, she weighs about 60 pounds heavier than your average Indian woman. Put a turban on her head and she'd look like a palm reader at some dustbowl carny (moles and all). Point of fact, she is probably the single most repulsive looking person (man or woman) that I have ever personally known. I think she may actually be Larry the Cable Guy's sister (Holy Moley anyone!) She has obnoxious down to a science. She thinks she has a firm understanding of sarcasm as a source of humor...problem is, every time she tries to be 'funny', she just comes across as an imbecile. Think of Pat from It's Pat, but shorter, fat, and blonde. From behind she looks like a young boy, but when she turns around she looks 8 months pregnant. You know, just as a bit of a side note, as I'm typing this I can't help but laugh about something I read the other day. On, the daily poll was asking whether or not a person has the right to trash their boss in a blog, and to my surprise, nay astonishment, at last count 29% of the vote said NO!!! I can't help but think a majority of those were other people's bosses who, like mine, just don't realize how much of a complete jerk-off they really are. I know, having said all that, I only enjoy a limited sense of anonymity, but at this point, I could give 2 whole shits about it...anyway...

I've worked for her for a little over two years, and she STILL does not know how half the processes in the department even's very disconcerting. At present, I'm the only one on my shift that knows how to do my job, so when I'm gone it's up to BBHM to attempt it. It defies any sense of logic or belief just how many people from other departments thank whatever God they pray to that I'm back from wherever I was...and tell me as much personally! I begin training DQ next week, and he's smart and a quick study, so folks around here won't have to freak completely about my leaving for a week next month. To sum up about BBHM, if there are two things I despise more than anything they are disorganization, and incompetence, and she personifies both.

Then there's her boss, as well as my boss...again, whom I shall refer to as Chocolate Starfish. He's the department manager thereby making him my mom's boss also, a VP, and a complete pretentious, sexist, retarded dickwad to boot. I knew everything I ever needed to know about him before I even started working here thanks to my mom. I was treated to a lot of dirt about the goings on at the bank before I began working there. It mostly stopped after I was hired; my mom's not entirely unethical after all. CS is a product of the hills of Arkansas, and it shows. I'm also relatively sure that, and I know it's cliché, he's married to a close blood relative, probably his sister (the bitch looks EXACTLY like him...and his kids actually look like they're missing a chromosome!). He's one of those people who thinks he knows everything about everything...ever, particularly in banking. His daddy ran a bank back home so he thinks he's seen it all ("Have you ever seen a man swallow his own head?" he he). I'm talking about a dipshit who, when redesigning the floor layout, placed nearly every counter and table at comfortable height for himself (6'1"), despite the fact that nearly every member of his staff is a woman under 5'8". If the man had pointy ears, he'd be a donkey. Hell, he already has the personality and I.Q. to match. In short (I know, too late), he is Lumberg! (*again in English accent* Oh God, I am soooooooooo depressed)

I'm not really looking for pity so please don't feel sorry for me or try to console me. I'm just...bummed. Everybody needs to whine like a little girl once in a while. Aside from my wonderful wife, nothing in life thus far has seemed to go as planned. I know things aren't supposed to, but come on, everybody get's a break once in a while. I mean, what the FUCK?!?! I'm so totally uninspired right now I could puke. B-rad (Vogler for you fine folks) tried to get me out of my funk (though he didn't realize that's what he was doing) by suggesting some corrections and additions to my first String Quartet, but I just can't seem to muster up any will power to actually do it. I'm basically fucked,or just this side of it. The giant cock of sorrow is teasing my asshole, just waiting to shove itself on in. I don't know what to do, I'm sure something will come to me...a quick painless end to it all if I'm really lucky (I really don't want to be completely fucked by the cock of sorrow after all).

*once more, with accent* GOD, I AM SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DEPRESSED!!!!!!!!!!

p.s. If you don't get the Marvin reference, or the accent thing, please, for the love of God, get to a bookstore or library and read Hitchhiker's Guide....NOW!!! (that means you especially Fowler)

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

The O.C. .....D?!?!?

So anyway, yesterday as I was about to settle in for the night(?) I made a somewhat startling discovery…I’m borderline obsessive-compulsive. It’s either that, or I’m just plain psychotic. Follow me on this one…I like to have the TV on when I’m sleeping (nothing unusual), and as I’m about to go to sleep, I have to turn the volume all the way down, turn on the closed captioning, and leave the cable on a program that I would want to watch if I were staying up (DANGER, DANGER, does not compute, DANGER!!!).

But I’m not; I’m going to sleep.

But I can’t sleep if the TV’s on something that I wouldn’t want to watch. It’s not like it matters that something good is on, after all, I always set the sleep timer for 30 minutes. But the magic just doesn’t happen if something good isn’t on. I’ve got another one too!!!

At work, we have a lot of plastic USPS mail trays that we put checks in. If you’re not sure what these are they’re long (about 2 feet, maybe 28 inches), white plastic trays with ‘United States Postal Service’ on the side in big black lettering and their used (obviously) for delivering bulk mail. On one end there’s a plastic sleeve that’s used to insert stubs from air bills or place tray ID’s. Anyway, I absolutely cannot leave these on the tray. I am physically unable to continue putting work into the tray unless I rip that little son-of-a-bitch off. If I know it’s on there, I get the shakes.

So I guess I have two questions really, one: Do I really have a problem?; and two: If not, am I alone in the freak zone (hey that rhymed!)? I’d really like to know and with any luck people outside my diminutive circle of regular-crazy-cyber-buddies will also find this and contribute some insight. I’ve always been crazy (note my previously posted void of moral fiber), just not one of the crazies with a name. Knowing my luck, a Scientologist will read this and tell me not to worry because Bleeblezix from Grellnaut Zebular 9 will make it all better for me very soon (and I think I’m nuts, those fuckers are on Pluto ‘r something man, they’re gone!!!).

Monday, July 18, 2005

Thought for the Day

The word for the day is: Chocolate Starfish.

Think about it.

I Did it All for the Nookie

So anyway, I know it's been a while since I last posted. As the miniscule fragment of cyberspace that has discovered me has no doubt observed, my postings generally have consisted of either of my ranting and venting on various grievances that I have with certain aspects of our worldwide community, or just generalized lunacy that I felt overwhelmed to spew out in a somewhat therapeutic manner. Unlike my pal Vogler, I've started making it a point to avoid things like...the news. We both seem to get easily 'agitated' at the goings-on in the world, and frankly, I have enough in my own life to get pissed at...I don't need help. We have a shared idea about cynics and skeptics, but that's for another post. Of the two types of postings I mentioned above, this post might be viewed by some perhaps as the latter of the two. So let's get rolling.

I come to you now, with a theory so profound in its implications that it may very well shake the foundations of reality as we know it. There will be panic and rioting in the streets. The dead will rise from the grave. There will be dogs and together...MASS HYSTERIA!!! Well, ok, so not really, but it is a concept, of my own design, that I've been tinkering with for a while. And now I want to share it with you (don't you feel oh so special?).

Thing is, this is an idea I've had for several years, and until this morning, I've never really assembled it as a cohesive thought. As I was working last night, the idea reemerged after a rather extended hiatus thanks in no small part to a correlative idea I had that spawned from my work (more on that in a minute). By the way, in case I never mentioned it, not only do I moonlight as a banker, but also I work graveyard to boot. The only things out and about when I'm at work are vampires, crackheads, and hookers (vampires, crackheads, and hookers...OH MY!)...but I digress...

So now, here it is, for your ultimate viewing pleasure, Mikey's Theory of Sex and Parking Relativity:

For any given length of time, any particular person (though this seems especially true for men as women are typically the regulators of sexual activity) will have a seemingly direct (this assumes that there is complete validity to the theory), and yet concurrently inadvertent correlation between their sex life and the quality of parking spaces that they are able to obtain in so that if said person is getting 'good' sex regularly, they will be generally unable to obtain a decent parking spot anywhere they may travel. And so thus the inverse is also highly apparent and typically true that if one is not getting 'good' sex, or simply has not performed it at all for a length of time, said person would have an abundance of good fortune in finding a preferable parking area that is more agreeable to their general sense of typical human laziness. While obviously there is absolutely no physical connection between the two, the frequency with which they are interrelated is uncanny, owing to some imaginary magical force or something of that nature. It can be postulated that in some instances, neither 'good' parking nor sex can be acheived in tandem, and that only in the rarest of circumstances, perhaps owing to ones own faith and/or karma, that both can be had simultaneously.

George Carlin once said, "These are the kinds of things I think about when I'm home alone and the lights go out!". So anyway there it is. As you've no doubt noticed, I put a lot of thought into this. And, as I said, I remembered it while at work since I have a similar situation there on a weekly basis...I should really consider filing workers comp against those assholes for making me even more fucking crazy than I already was.

At any rate, think on it, and then feel free to talk amongst yourselves...

Friday, July 01, 2005

Animal Redux...

As an addendum to my previous post...I'd just like to tell the fine folks at Homeland Security, the CIA, the FBI, the NSA, the DOD, the State Department, the Pentagon, the ATF, NASA, and Blockbuster Video (that's right, I got my eye on you fuckers!) that I have ABSOLUTELY no intention of killing ANYONE whatsoever in the near or distant future regardless of the personal gratification it would bring me. I am not a threat to national security, I'm barely a threat to a housefly.

So keep up the good work...

...and please leave me alone.

Thank You