February 22, 2006

Long Time, No Blog

IÂ’ve been indisposed. When I donÂ’t blog IÂ’m not a happy man. This is my therapy, and when I donÂ’t get my therapy I get anxiety in one form or another.

I went to an actual shrink for about four months once. It was many, many years ago and my stress level was through the roof and all I really wanted was a prescription to take the edge off on especially bad days. The price to pay was I had to sit there and go through the process of being analyzed.

If I knew then what I know now, that basically, any time you walk in to see your family practitioner for anything from carpal tunnel to bleeding ears the first thing they say is that itÂ’s probably stress related and hand you a script.

Anyway, for a few months I went the Tony Soprano route with a real live shrink. It was awkward. IÂ’m not the greatest communicator when it comes to meaningful discourse. I kept asking if I could mail it in, but she was having none of that. So I sat there and endured for a while, acting pretty much like Tony Soprano does with Dr. Melfi, minus the mob shit and the insults.

I always felt like she was trying very hard to outwit me. A lot of leading the witness type stuff. And all I really wanted was my script. ItÂ’s not like I was an addict; at the time I had a very stressful job and once or perhaps twice a week I needed a respite. A respite that didnÂ’t come with a hangover.

So like an asshole I sat across from this woman, who was particularly unattractive, and tried not to do wacky shit, like keep cracking my knuckles or jiggling my leg constantly. On one level I was terrified of this woman. She sat there writing her notes, writing her notes, writing her notes. And I half expected her to suggest shock treatments or tell me I had some kind of fucked up personality disorder. I was always just a little bit afraid that maybe I was nuts. I was always expecting to hear, “I think you’ll be better off living in this facility out in Burbank.”

And let me tell you, struggling for forty-five minutes in front of shrink, desperately trying not to be yourself is more fucking stressful than any job.

“Tell me, what do you think is the basis of your anxiety?”

I suppose I could have just said that I was responsible for a lot of people and a lot of money and that my boss was insane, but it just seemed too mundane. I always went with the drama.

“Life is stressful. Buying a loaf of bread is stressful. Getting a haircut is stressful. Finding a parking spot in your fucking parking lot is stressful.”

“So, you feel that finding a parking spot can be stressful? Or buying a loaf of bread?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

“But there must be an underlying cause. Don’t you suspect there’s an underlying cause to your anxiety?”

And as this went on I kept thinking to myself, DonÂ’t crack your knuckles! DonÂ’t jiggle your leg! DonÂ’t act crazy and youÂ’ll be out of here soon!

I would always begin a reply with, “Logic dictates…”

It would drive her nuts. She would repeatedly try to drill into my thick skull that logic had no place in any of this. That phobias were exempt from logic. “Totally exempt!” she would cry. She was right about that of course, even a dullard like myself could get past the obvious.

In the end it was a pointless exercise. It was much more stressful dealing with this horrible woman than it was to just care less about upward mobility. IÂ’ll never forget that womanÂ’s haircut and her frump-wear. And waiting in the outer office, pretending to look at old magazines while I was really sizing up the real crazies, trying to catch a good look without getting caught.

One day I just never went back. There was no further correspondence, so I suppose I was never “turned in to the authorities” as some kind of nut. In fact, I suspect she was rather glad to be rid of me.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 02:26 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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February 18, 2006

How to win friends and influence Jim

With the doubling in size of our company comes a corresponding increase in the workload for those of us in the Project Management and Quality Assurance department. Fortunately we are taking measures to grow our department to meet the needs. Unfortunately that means I'm back in the interviewer seat for a large chunk of my exceptionally scarce time. As a public service to job seekers and an attempt to make my life easier, I present Jim's Rules of the Interview:

First, the resume:

1. Proof your resume. Proof it again. Hand it to your spouse / significant other / mom / nearby hobo (hobos will work for beer so it's very cheap) and have them proof it. There should be exactly zero spelling errors on your resume. When you are applying for a position with heavy documentation duties there is even less tolerance than that.

2. Don't mix cases. "Proofed corporate news documentation and implemented a redaction policy" is good. "Performed systems evaluation tests and modifying active test plans" is bad.

3. I have a limited time slot to conduct the actual interview. There are questions I have to ask and questions that I want to ask. The ones I have to ask are the same as the ones every other interviewer has to ask. Answer those on the resume. Tell me why you left IBM. Tell me why you want to leave Sprint. Pull your major accomplishments and essential qualifications out and put them right at the start of your resume. Put a one-line description of what the companies you worked at actually do. Nobody except you and the other four people who work there know what "Synergy Systems, LLC" is or does. more...

Posted by: Jim at 09:52 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
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February 16, 2006

Talent

Everyone I know has some type of natural talent except for me.

My sister is a damned fine artist and has been since she was a kid. I, on the other hand, canÂ’t draw a proper stick figure. IÂ’m outdone by Neanderthal cave painters.

Some people can sing. Some people have a natural talent for math. I know people who can fix things—literally anything—because they’re mechanically inclined.

I know people who have the gift of spatial reasoning, and are so naturally good at chess that my years of study mean absolutely nothing. They thrash me at will.

Sculptors, painters, dancers, natural athletesÂ…the list is endless.

And I’m still looking for my talent at what some of you might refer to as ‘an advanced age.’

ItÂ’s annoying and mysterious. ItÂ’s also the catalyst for plenty of fights at my house. I address this issue with my wife from time to time because it really does bug me.

“You’re just fishing for compliments.”

“No. No, I’m not. I have no natural talents. Everybody is supposed to have some natural talent.”

“You’re an incredible musician! You can play anything you want, so stop the bullshit.”

“That doesn’t count. I have to work for that. That’s not some gift from God, I busted my balls for hours every day of my childhood. I played until my fucking fingers bled, so don’t bring it up again.”

“Counts.”

“Does not.”

And the fight continues. IÂ’m not talking about practicing something and getting good at it. IÂ’m talking about natural gifts. Do they exist? Obviously. Does everyone have one? IÂ’m not so sure.

Do you have one?

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 03:36 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
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February 15, 2006

Let's Get Funny

Okay, let's clear the air here: The guy accidentally shot his hunting buddy. Big fuckin' deal! Could happen to anyone; especially if your the sixty five year old survivor of four heart attacks and your hunting buddy is seventy eight. I mean, let's get real here, neither of these guys could see well enough to shoot, nor could they hear or move well enough to get out of the way. Can you imagine being a secret service agent on this trip? "Hey 007, your assignment is to accompany the Vice-President and the only man on this Earth who probably has less business being out in the woods than he does. Oh, and they'll be carrying around loaded shotguns. Presumably shooting them. Might want to bring your vest."

Seriously though, I don't understand why it's such a big deal. If I went hunting with a friend of mine, and got sprayed with a little birdshot, I mean; as long as everyone survives it's a funny goddamn story. "Hey Tom, 'member that time you tried to blow my fucking face off? You shoot like a schoolgirl!"

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What Would Hamlet Do?

IÂ’ve never given Denmark much thought. They seem innocuous enough. I get the Scandinavian and the Low Countries mixed up. Are they the folks with the windmills? DoesnÂ’t matter. Anyway, theyÂ’ve got Saladin and his lot marching on them like the fucking Third Reich over these cartoons.

And if thatÂ’s not enough, now theyÂ’ve got Muslim agitators all over the globe stirring up more violence. It pains me to say this, but at least the hippies werenÂ’t violent. Maybe if these guys hit the hookah a little more often weÂ’d have less bellyaching from them.

I rarely post politics and I’m not starting now, but it’s painfully obvious to the sane people of the world that as a global collective we need to stop wiping the asses of these fucking extremists. Pretty soon it’s going to be “Step on a crack, break Mohammed’s back,” and they’ll be rioting and burning every time someone doesn’t say Mother, may I before they get on an eastbound freeway.

There is no reasoning with extremists.

Now maybe the rest of the world will wake up and see what’s coming down the pike in the long run—because it’s coming. Mark my words, there will be a day in the not-so-distant future where countries will be standing in line to be our allies.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:42 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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February 14, 2006

ValentineÂ’s Day

Ancient History

First of all, who was Valentine? Nobody really knows. The Roman Catholic Church lists three St. Valentines, all of whom were martyred.

ThereÂ’s a lot of legends and I guess if I gave a shit I could list some, but for the sake of brevity letÂ’s keep the story moving. In ancient Rome, some fertility ritual or another took place around February 15th. TheyÂ’d slaughter a goat and a dog and then dip strips of their hides into the blood. ThatÂ’s when the fun began.

Then boys would run around the city slapping girls with the bloody hide in order to make them more fertile. Between that and all the drinking from lead pots itÂ’s no wonder the Roman empire collapsed, but thatÂ’s another story.

IÂ’m losing interest in this post, but if you want to have yourself a real Valentines celebration this year youÂ’re probably going to jail for animal cruelty so it may be a good idea to just stick with a card and some flowers.

Modern History

Guys purchase gaudy lingerie and give it to their girlfriends. I donÂ’t know what theyÂ’re thinking, but they do this. IÂ’ve had conversations with guys over this before and thereÂ’s no getting through to them.

“That’s a gift for you dumbass. You’re supposed get a gift for them. No ulterior motives. You know…something romantic. What you’ve got there looks like a very cheaply made undergarment for an 1870s era prostitute.”

“No way, Dude. She’s going to be into this.”

I donÂ’t know why people donÂ’t listen.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 02:00 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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February 13, 2006

My Forte

Over at this fine establishment theyÂ’re voting on which blogger is the king of poop stories. Hell, I cut my teeth on poop blogging. So for old timeÂ’s sake, hereÂ’s one of the all time great poop stories.

And just for the record, when you shit yourself in a foreign country, it’s much more intense. It’s a long post—hang in there, it’s worth it.
more...

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:38 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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February 11, 2006

I bent my nubbin

It's true. It happened on Wednesday. I was leveraging around for a scratch and put a bit too much pressure on it. I felt it bend a bit awkwardly but didn't think anything serious had happened.

When I whipped it out yesterday morning I saw the damage. The tip was bent over at a 15% angle. I straightened it out but there must be something wonky in the area where the tip and the shaft meet. As soon as I start using it the damn thing bends over again.

This is very distressing for me. I use the hell out of it - multiple times a day, sometimes for hours at a time. I like a precision instrument. Even if I'm just messing around with it I expect it to perform perfectly. Now my aim is all off and I don't even like using it anymore.

Lovely Wife bought me some "replacement units" a while back. I can use one of those to take care of critical tasks but it's just not the same. They don't have the smooth feel of my original equipment and (not to brag) they're smaller. They don't fit very well in the receptacle either, if you get my meaning.

Speaking of original equipment, that poses some problems all by itself. I'm not saying that mine is one of a kind but I guarantee they aren't making any like it any more. Trust me, I've Googled it. (Interesting images in that search, by the way.) I've been sending messages to the creator to see if there's any way to get mine repaired or replaced with equivalent equipment but I never got an answer back.

So, anybody know where I can get a replacement stylus for a Dell Axim 4 PDA?

Posted by: Jim at 12:50 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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February 10, 2006

Natural Aspiration

You don't want to read this.

more...

Posted by: shank at 05:23 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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February 09, 2006

Justice

Turns out more people watched the American Idol auditions last night than the Grammy awards.

I have little use for either show, but the GrammyÂ’s annoy the shit out of me, much like the Oscars. I canÂ’t understand AmericaÂ’s fascination with these self-indulgent bullshit festivals.

I have almost no respect for todayÂ’s music world. These hogs have been at the trough for a long goddamned time. WhereÂ’s the talent? Ah, donÂ’t even get me started.

Anyway, American Idol swept the ratings and in doing so, poked a finger in the eyes of U2, Madonna and I imagine a great many rappers and breathy boy band style crooners. I wouldnÂ’t know because I hold the whole music industry in contempt. I havenÂ’t purchased a CD or song recorded in the last five years. And I still buy a shitload of music every week.

IÂ’m absolutely thrilled that viewers would rather watch people embarrass and humiliate themselves on TV than tune in to watch more of these overblown windbags talk about how wonderful they all are as a collective.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 09:56 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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The Cinematic Experience

Every year the Oscar nominations come out, and without fail, I havenÂ’t seen any of the films. I rarely leave my compound for any reason, but going to the movies is actually painful. I dislike other people and movie theaters put me in too close a contact with the masses. The fucking Herefords, grazing and plodding along with no self-awareness, eating giant buckets of popcorn coated with who knows what, talking on cell phones and cluttering up the general landscape of my life.

In addition, most people have no manners and my aggravation level skyrockets when I’m forced into close quarters with Neanderthals. When I watch a movie I concentrate. I like to become absorbed in the film. The cinematography, the music, the editing—if done well create a separate world for me that I enjoy very much. I hang on every word or dialog. I relax and forget my troubles.

And I canÂ’t do that when some jerkoff is pressing his feet into the back of my chair. Or while some halfwit is talking because heÂ’s too much of a dullard to follow a basic plot line. Without fail some people are late and then you have to watch them walking around in front of you trying to find a seat. How can I concentrate or relax with all that shit going on?

Even the new places where I can sit on a couch and drink green bottles are a hassle when people start talking near you. I just canÂ’t do it.

Am I missing something? I imagine I am. A big screen is certainly better than a small one and I realize the dramatic enhancement. Many people seem to enjoy seeing a movie in a room full of other people. I donÂ’t know, I read somewhere recently that people feel theyÂ’re sharing the movie as a group and that some sort of feeling of togetherness comes from it, or makes the event more special for them. Personally, I canÂ’t imagine being that needy.

If a movie isnÂ’t available on DVD I havenÂ’t seen it.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 09:16 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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February 08, 2006

Lesson #1965

It's not about elegance, fairy tales, and releasing doves. It's about having fun. And that, that's easy baby. If you can't throw a fun wedding, you either invited the wrong people or threw the wrong wedding.

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Lesson #9285

When in doubt, it looks wonderful. You couldn't have imagined anything more perfect. Even if you know nothing about flower arrangements, it's great; and you know what? You're glad to be a part of the decision-making.

Posted by: shank at 07:46 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Lesson #8751

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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Decisions, Decisions

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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February 07, 2006

The ChildrenÂ’s Hour

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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February 06, 2006

Help wanted, inquire within

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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February 05, 2006

I rarely speak in this tongue

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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February 04, 2006

Secrets

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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February 03, 2006

Scallops: The Hot Dogs of the Sea

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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