Always, always, always remember the exact time of your wedding. Even though, as the groom, you're going to be at the church hours a(fucking)head of time, and there's no possible way in Satan's Holy Hell that you'd miss the wedding; always remember what time it starts. If you forget, you'd be better to call a guest and ask them to read you their invitation than asking the bride. She will mount your head over the fireplace.

Posted by: shank at 07:42 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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So IÂ’ve got this wedding invitation. IÂ’ve never met the bride or the groom in person, but you could say weÂ’ve been corresponding for some time. Because the groom is fucking Shank. Our Shank. The Shank that blogs right here on this wonderful, mostly bio-rhythmic site. Most people donÂ’t realize that Shank and I go way back.

IÂ’m torn, really. The guest list is very tight, so itÂ’s certainly an honor. LetÂ’s weigh the pros and cons.

Cons:

Not much face time with shank. LetÂ’s face it, itÂ’s his wedding day, and even an asshole like me realizes that itÂ’s full of family obligations. IÂ’d have to pay for plane tickets for myself and my wife, though I could just fuck them on a gift and call it even. I wouldnÂ’t know anyone at the wedding, including the groom.

Pros:

I could fuck with people big time. Shank himself suggested I go around telling people IÂ’m his astrologer. If heÂ’s got no objection to that IÂ’m sure I could push it a lot further, implying illegal activities, homosexuality, owed money and plenty of other good stuff.

I could go around saying that I’m, “Here to get what’s coming to me,” and simply walk away.

IÂ’ve been known to have business cards printed up for all kinds of wacky shit before, including Private Investigator, Commode Salesman, etc. The possibilities are really endless. And IÂ’ll be drunk and inciting others to get slammed as well. I could casually insult old people, stand up and make incredulous toasts and use excessively foul language.

I could slap people on the back obnoxiously and tell them about my third testicle. I could goose the old broads. I could rent and wear a ridiculous white tie and tails outfit. I could wet my crotch with water and walk around looking as if I’ve leaked pee on myself. I could “cut in” when old people are dancing.

Think of the material I could get at an affair like this.

I think IÂ’m going to check my schedule.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 11:25 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Is anybody surprised by this? They have the mentality of little kids.

They never really evolved from Lord of the Flies.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 03:03 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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To celebrate the new year my company bought itself a large travel company in the UK and a larger one in Germany, catapulting us from the second largest business travel company in the USA to the third largest in the world.

As you might expect the workload for Enterprise Technology in general, and the Project Management / Quality Assurance group in particular, has not decreased. In fact, you would not be incorrect if you guessed that our workload has increased substantially. It's one of the reasons I haven't been posting a whole lot. Where I used to get up bright and early, read a bit, write a bit, shit, shower and shave, I am now catching up on emails and project statuses, shitting, showering and shaving. I've tried to eliminate one or more of the "S" class morning tasks to make room for more blogging but have had mixed results with such experimentation.

But help is on the way, and the sooner the better. We have authorization to hire a QA Manager, 2 Project Managers and a Business Analyst. Experience in the travel industry is a plus but not a grand requirement. Similarly, living in the Atlanta area is a plus (that's where HQ and our department are located) but not required. We also have departmental offices in Chicago and Kansas City (Missouri).

So, who wants a job? If you want more detail on any of these just give a holler.

Posted by: Jim at 02:44 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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1 If I can work from home I'm game.

Posted by: phin at February 06, 2006 03:36 PM (Xvpen)

2 No such luck, me boyo. We're almost but not quite totally non-virtual.

Posted by: Jim at February 06, 2006 04:18 PM (tyQ8y)

3 Hire me! I am fucking sick of my job!!

Posted by: The Brat at February 06, 2006 04:37 PM (oqu5j)

4 Sorry, Babe. You know what they say: "Irreplaceable equals unpromotable".

Posted by: Jim at February 06, 2006 05:54 PM (tyQ8y)

5 Ugh......sickening!

Posted by: The Brat at February 06, 2006 05:55 PM (oqu5j)

6 If they took right out of school with a BS in mechatronic engineering, and were willing to wait until may, i'd think about it. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Posted by: tommy at February 06, 2006 08:20 PM (EhwJT)

7 The waiting until May part could be problematic.

Posted by: Jim at February 07, 2006 04:18 PM (tyQ8y)

8 aye, story of me life. :-D

Posted by: tommy at February 07, 2006 10:46 PM (EhwJT)

9 I am not applying for a job, but I am wondering if the acquisition of the international sites means you'll be coming over here PS-wifi makes working on the toilet that much easier.

Posted by: Helen at February 08, 2006 01:40 PM (pYaFz)

10 Why can't you have offices in NYC?

Posted by: Flibbertigibbet at February 09, 2006 02:52 PM (gKBKR)

11 We do, but only for travel managers.

Posted by: Jim at February 09, 2006 06:22 PM (tyQ8y)

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Seattle denied a touchdown and the Steelers given a freebee.

That ref is a poxy cunt.*

*Poxy Cunt may be a registered trademark of Twenty Major.

P.S. It's good thing I can't draw cartoons.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:16 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Even though I'm not married; I like to wear my wedding ring around the house.

Posted by: shank at 10:46 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Okay, what the fuck is a scallop? I mean, we all can probably describe them; these little white lumps of...nondescript...sea...meat. Truly though, are they fish? Are they plant material? How are they farmed? Where do they come from? I mean, the only thing we know about them is that they're great sauteed in butter. They're the ocean's answer to mystery meat. Plus, they have no distinctive flavor of their own. Scallops.

In unrelated matters, Muslims need to smoke a little more pot. Apparently, they've gone and got their sari's in a twist over a few silly cartoons. They're all upset because some Dane or someone drew a picture of their God, an act violating their religious law. What I don't get it, why they're all so damn bent out of shape about someone outside their religion breaking Islamic law. I mean, most Christians and Jews hold the Ten Commandments as part of their religious law - and yet I can turn on my TV and watch shows about people who violate those laws all the time. I'm not catching any fatwa's in the local church bullitens around here, regarding the organization of a Baptist militia who will fight to have networks apologize to them for such transgression against Baptist 'law'.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, we'll tolerate religion is an much as we will allow you to do your thing. But don't expect us to design our society around it's pillars. Mostly because we're not into the whole stoning of women and owning of slaves.

In an even further unrelated matter, my car should finally come out of the shop next week. It'll be the culmination of easily 8 weeks of waiting and working. The motor came hand built all the way from Honda's factory in Saitama, Japan. It's gonna be sick.

Posted by: shank at 05:34 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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My wife has taken to calling me Dorian Gray. IÂ’m not too goddam happy about it.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 01:22 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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So, we're living in this apartment building while we save for a house. It's not that bad - it's dirt cheap; it's in a safe, convenient neighborhood; it's got just enough room - we even got a first floor unit!

Well, it's all good until this bitch, evil whore, moved in upstairs. I swear to Christ she straps her refrigerator to a dolly and brings it down the stairs with her every damn morning on her way to work. CLOMPCLOMPCLOMPCLOMP.

'Course, I'm usually up pretty early for work so it's just a mild annoyance. The fiancee, on the other hand, tends bar til oh-dark-thirty and when that bitch starts dragging her Frigidaire or whatever down three flights of stairs at 7am, the old lady about has a psychotic break. She wants to set up a trip wire. Personally, I think that would be funny:

CLOMPCLOMPCLO[trip]WHAM clompflompblompshompaaaaahghgggaa...BANG!

The last bang being that damn side-by-side landing on the gelatinous pool of tissue and bone fragment that was her body. It's really unneccesary, the clomping. No one else clomps. The fiancee said "Well, the only reason we hear her is because she's obviously wearing some goddamn slutty ass, goldfish tank, platform heels. Skank." Never mess with a tired woman. They'll fuck ya' up.

Don't even make me tell you about the time she called me at work because there were landscapers outside our unit at nine in the morning. She was on the verge of committing war crimes.

I thought it was kinda sexy. All that passion. Hey, at least it's not directed at me this time. "Go ahead, baby! Kill 'em, kill 'em all!"

Posted by: shank at 08:55 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Why civilization is crumbling— reason number 78,634:

Â…Today, men are buying themselves bracelets, rings and pendant necklaces with increasing frequency and wearing their bling with a confidence and flair heretofore unseen in the Western world, according to fashion experts and industry observers.
Â…

Â…"These super-masculine guys are saying, 'Jewelry's cool, and I'll show you why because I'll wear it.' So as a result, men are thinking, 'Hey, it's OK for me to wear this.' " Â…

No. No itÂ’s not. I cannot abide a man wearing a shitload of jewelry. You know how men decorate apartments? A couple of cinder blocks and a plank for a couch?

Well, that how they pick jewelry too. I draw the line at a watch. And my weddinÂ’ ring.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 01:24 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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I received an email this morning from a dear friend who believes his house is haunted. HeÂ’s shaken up about the whole affair. I know this man and his wife pretty well. Intelligent people. GuyÂ’s got a physics degree or something of that ilk. HeÂ’s a rational man, and whatÂ’s more, heÂ’s one of the few people I know who are mentally stable.

Anyway, he described some incidents that are certainly extraordinary. I know the house well and itÂ’s not very old and the things he described were intriguing.

The email went to out to a small group of friends and I was surprised to find that some of them now BLAME ME for the haunting. First of all, I don’t know that I believe in hauntings. I’m the rational type. Until it happens to me—then I shriek like a little girl.
more...

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:46 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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