November 26, 2005

Taking, And Making, Stock.

I've had one of those past couple days that was not the greatest. I mean, it didn't suck per se; I still have my health, but there's someone in my immediate family that doesn't even have that. It's kind of surreal at this point, but at the same time very real. It's one of those things that 'never happens to you', but in the end it happens to everyone. We should kind of expect it, but we're never ready for it. We're never really ready to hear that someone's got a 6% chance of living through the next 12 months. We're never going to have the flexibility to work it into our schedules. There's never a good time to die. But we all know it's coming. So we just take our lumps, and we know that the things that really matter will always be there.

Responding to death by saying "That's tragic" is simply releasing vocal filler into the air. And the next time somebody says that within earshot of myself, I will stab them with their own sword and say "No. That's tragic." I mean, I don't expect people to express sympathy or empathy, because I don't even know how to express it. I don't expect people to say shit really, because I don't even know what to say yet; still processing. But I can't just not say anything; I'm not going to pretend it's not happening. So when I say "My Mom is dying" don't feel obligated to utter the traditional "I'm so sorry for you." I know what people are feeling when I tell them that. So just give me a hug, and then go home and give your family a hug.

In the extended entry is her recipe for turkey stock. I, of course, took liberties with it and made it my own. Cuz nothing's ever good enough for me when it comes to food. more...

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November 22, 2005

Knee-Deep and Sinking like a Rock

Work has been crazy. Like trying to drink from a fire hose. I can't complain, because the 60% pay raise (insert screaming, cheering, dancing, heavy tipping of the bartender here) is pretty nice to me; but damn do I hate working. Absolutely.

My best friend in the whole wide world is in town tonight. He woulda been my best man if he wasn't trying to live in Costa Rica, Texas, and North Carolina at the same time. Makes him a little hard to get ahold of. But he's in town for the holidays, so I've dutifully put a twelver of Corona on ice, sliced the lime, and put on some music. It'll be a nice way to start my Thanksgiving holiday extravaganza.

Much Like Paul stated below, our Turkey Day revolves not so much around the food. We like to play poker, drink whiskey, and then make fun of eachother when we get drunk and someone's wife starts giving them the stink eye. One year, we were forced to play in the garage. Which was okay with my Uncle Jay, because that put him closer to the deepsink - it's easier for him to throw up in. I swear, second to the poker/whiskey, that's Jay's way of celebrating a family get together. What a louse that guy is.

Then there was the year my younger cousin lost his ass (a sum total of maybe $5 in change, we play high stakes donchaknow) in the game, got pissed; and would only calm down if Grandma promised to have a shot of whiskey with him. She must really love that boy, or at least the Maker's Mark, because she 'took a hit for the team'. That was the same year I got so shitty I had a nervous breakdown and damn near spent the night in my car. My own poor mother had to bring me inside.

The good news at the end of all this mindless drivel is that you probably won't hear from me for the next few days. But you already know what I'm going to be up to, so it's not like you're missing out.

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November 14, 2005

DIBS!

Yay! First post!

Anyways...
I quit my job today. Well, that's inaccurate. I positioned myself to take advantage of a rapid exit strategy. How you like those words? Learned 'em during my MBA studies. But yeah, never thought I'd actually use them outside of a blue book - that just goes to show you how valuable continuing education is. Besides, getting fired is too reactionary of a strategy, as an MBA I need to be anticipatory, proactive, controlling my own destiny. So I decided to position myself. See, you just learned all kinds of MBA horseshit without the tuition, reading, homework, and pontificating faculty.
more...

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November 07, 2005

Bah.

I just finished my exam for this Management Strategy class I'm taking. It's so retarded, anyone who's been through business school or an MBA program has taken at least six classes like this one. It's mainly a creative writing course filled with case studies. What's the best way to manage X change? Where should this company go? Innovation, the 'Blue Ocean', Steve Case, the 3 C's, 3 I's, 3 U's, Lewin's 3 Step Model, Anticipatory Management, countless BusinessWeek articles, two guest speakers, the five components of a Future Focused© organization, and of course; a book written by the professor.

The exam was basically a case analysis, wherein the student is challenged to drop as many buzzwords from the professor's text as possible; the end goal being to send said professor into such a fervent bout of narcissism that the academe is left spent, splayed out on his office floor, stretched and pulled like a peice of chewed taffy amidst a deluge of similarly written papers. The satiated ego in post-coital repose. What a jackass this guy is.

He actually told us once that he doesn't like the phrase 'proactive management' because it's so ubiquitous. Apparently, if too many people say it, it's beneath this guy's vocabulary, it's too bourgeois - so he prefers we use 'anticipatory management'. Well, I think too many folks use the word 'Professor', so I'm going to start using 'Captain Asshat, High Ruler of the Type-A Quarter Pinchers'. Dillhole.

The best part is he gave us from 6-7:30 for the exam, so I get to finish typing this and head back to class for another hour and a half of mind-numbing, self-glorifying lecture and presumably idiotic mental exercise in 'Re-engineering'. How blessed am I, grateful even.

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November 06, 2005

Following Through

A while back I promised I'd post a photo up of myself. I'm not exactly willing to do so, but I said I would, so I will. One of the people in the following photo is me. more...

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It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

The early morning is my favorite part of the day. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate a summer afternoon or a really exciting late night; but the morning is by far the best.

I was coming home from a friend's house yesterday morning about 7am. The air was that brisk, clean temperature; maybe 50 degrees. Windows down, sunroof open, just getting the wind in my hair.

There's hardly anyone out on the roads at that time of the morning on a Saturday. It's almost like you get to enjoy the city before it's swarmed by humanity. Before the intersections are chocked with cars, honking horns and trudging down the streets like a herd of braying cattle.

The sunshine on a cloudless morning is amazing too. It just sprays out onto the world, it almost makes a sound. The low angle at that hour of the day also allows the light to come crashing through windows and doors, the brightness splashing into the corners of houses that only see sunlight once a day.

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November 03, 2005

Still Sick?

Last night, at like 3:30am, my stomach started killing me. It was that gassy type of pain, really sharp and burning, right about your navel. God, I thought that fucking critter from Alien was going to pop out of my stomach.
"Aarrrarraaaa!"
"Jesus, and I thought it was just a 48-hour bug..."
"Argrawr? Raaaawwawrrrr..."
"Sweetheart, will you go get the Raid? I think the strain has mutated..."

Yeah, so there I am, praying for death or explosive diarreah or anything to relieve the stabbing pain in my abdomen; and it happens. I mean, it was the most amazing event of its kind that I've ever been a party to, or even heard of. I floated one of the most amazing air biscuits in the history of air biscuitry. I'm no stranger to farting, as I come from a long and voluminous line of Norweigan farters and burpers. But this thing was amazing. It sounded like 5.1 Dolby Surround, I mean, I could swear someone had plugged a subwoofer jack into my asshole and turned that mother up to '11'.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEERRRRRRRRP.

The window panes shook in their frames, the bedspread flapped, the touch-lamp on the bedside table went through two three-stage cycles. The fiancee stirs: "Who the fuck is knocking on our door?"
"No one babe; but you just ripped horrendous ass." Evil grin.

Then the stench hit. No, it...swallowed us with the sorce of a tsunami. Smell 'o vision on steroids. Like so much landfill acreage, raw sewage, that sour smell of dead animals, the burning smell of propane, bad eggs, and spoiled bean soup. It was horrible, but totally amazing. I thought the woman was going to cry; I was doing all I could to keep from laughing (it would have given me away).

I woke up this morning feeling like a new man. I think The Fart was just the virus's death rattle. Not nearly deadly, but much more than a rattle; I can assure you that.

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November 01, 2005

Day Two

I woke up at about 3am covered in sweat. Had to go towel off, then change the damn sheets. The fiancee and I took the soiled sheets off, and she went to go get some more. She came back with a fitted sheet that, ironically, did not fit. Mildly exasperated, she went to fetch another. As it turns out, we own only one set of sheets that fits our bed. Great. So we grabbed a flat sheet and just made do. Talk about a pair of grumpy people.

I got up about 30 minutes ago and made myself a cup of tea. I decided to crush one of my Men's One-A-Day's into it. I don't know why, it just seems bettr than regular old tea. Well, the reason that shit is in pill form is because it tastes horrible. This sucks. When will it end? What if I have the avian flu or something? I'll be the first blogger to blog my death. Stay tuned.

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