I Dropped Acid With Billie Piper...

on top of the Sears Tower, and then we totally did it. Twice.

Today, I had fun at work. Mind you, I didn't do any work, but had fun here. As you can see from my timestamps, I spent most of the day online, posting a Yin-yang of comments (some good, some bad). Those Gawker Commenters crack me up!

Eh, whattaya gonna do?

(Billie Piper is lovely, and when I found this syrupy video, I had to include it!)




Cheers.

(Billie: call me!)

Not Dead, Just Passed Out

Summer 2008:



Gas prices through the stratosphere.
Over $1000 in car repairs.
Annoyances galore at The Bank.
More hours at The Part-time job, sucking all my energy and annihilated my "social life." However, that job is like a Love Fest Laugh Fest compared to The Bank.
Grandpa M. died.
Grandma M. wants to die, like, NOW!
Still counting myself among The Poors.
Currently sweating my balls off as I type.
The last two women I, finally, convinced myself into asking out turned out to be both engaged, one with a kid.
My adult-onset mystery allergy is flaring up more.

But other than that, life is a Pink Cotton Candy Bra on a Porn Star!

Really, it ain't all that bad, I just needed to type some of that off my chest. I'm just bored, not down. Not falling back into that whole 2004 Madness; thank God.

I guess I shouldn't complain about work, I should be thrilled with the chaos of my job, and the fact I am burrowed away in The Gopher Hole most of the week. If I could just trade Biggie J. for another coworker, I'd be set!
Part of the problem with the job at The Bank is I've borderline "worked myself out of a job." Compared to my predecessor, I'm like fucking Flash Gordon. He went the extra mile to call around and hassle local vendors into selling at a lower price (true, he took bribes from them, and I wouldn't, but that's besides the point), but rest of the job he SUCKED AT! (and I'll not go into the duties of my job unless asked for they are not exciting. At. All.) Basically, what would take him 3 weeks to accomplish, I finish in 3 days maximum. Upside: makes my coworkers and boss happy! Downside: a whole hell of a lot of downtime!

But, at least I spend downtime moments here and there with The Banks interests in the forefront of my mind. HA!

Alright, enough bitching and moaning (and navel-gazing: Shut Up, Spav1!) for now, my computer is running sluggish in this heat.

'Night.

March(ing) with the black flag up

March 2008: WTF?

I'll let Henry speak for me for a couple of minutes.



It's been a soggy month in My Cube.

Car broke down for a week, walked to work.

I decided to stop seeing someone, still have to break it officially (the hardest phone call, well besides informing/being informed someone died). It wasn't really a relationship, per se, but it still sucks. I only sort of know what happened, I know how it started, I sort of know why I let it continue, but after coming back from Hawaii (stepping aside from the situation), it's like my head cleared. I did not want this. It isn't fair to either of us. It shouldn't have started. I should have broke it immediately when, upon the first or second meeting, she asked,

"Can I fuck you with a strap-on?"
"Um, no."

Mis-counted the meds, so I went halfsies for a couple of weeks. The silver-lining of which is now I know for sure, I need them. The Blue-haired Demons came back, clawing at the door and salivating for my blood. They never breached the barricades; but, damn, they made their presence known. The couch and sleep protected me from God-knows-what, and I drowned any who peeked their heads in my room at night with chilling amber. Then cowered under the covers for warmth.

But, their stench still filled My Cube's air. And now Chavo speaks for me:



And then, I get an email from my parents. They're breaking their Florida stay a month short and coming home. My Grandpa is (has been) dying. As of today, about two weeks to live. Now, the sad thing is, I'm more upset for my dad than the actual upcoming death of my grandpa. See, he and I differ on many values, but, shit, he is my grandpa, so I feel like hell not feeling....well, much.


But a re-fill of the Happy Pills kicked in just in time for my Wingman's visit from overseas. Ah, this is what I need. A couple of drunken nights out with a good friend (who needs to move his ass back here. For fuck's sake, drag that wife of yours back here by the hair!!! (just kidding Doctor!!!)). It was great as usual to see him, meet his friends, meet my friends, etc etc etc. [pics, hopefully, coming soon]

And then there's been work (mainly The Bank): I AM SO BORED.

[I'll update and add to this post later. I'm tired of typing now]

Another absurd example of The Bank

I hang with one of the maintenance guys at The Bank. He's a 60-something official freaking D.O.M. (Dirty Old Man), always grinding on about all "these G-ddamn morons that work here," and talks about the "big tittied blond" in the office across from The Gopher Hole; he cracks me up. Shit, I'd invite him to a party, if I threw one. He'd keep me and my friends in stitches with his stories about the Army and Korean War alone!

Anyway, Dirty Jim comes into the Gopher Hole the other day holding a newspaper, kind of looking at it confused and smirking.

"You ever seen this paper before?"

"Yeah, I used to read it alot when I first moved here, why?"

"Well, I'm reading the G-ddamn thing, and I'm thinking 'what the fuck is up with headline?' George Bush says Army just not that good"

"It's all satire, parodies, and humor stuff."

"Well, Dickle [the owner of The Bank] told Marketing he wanted some papers on that newsstand table in the lobby for our Spanish clientele, and this G-ddamn thing shows up, what the Hell???"

I nearly pissed myself laughing. The paper picked for our Spanish-speaking clientele was this paper.

Dickle and Marketing es muy idiotas!