Dear 6 Readers

Posting has been delayed here due to the fact notalot has happened.
Posts will follow when something interesting actually happens.

Until then, if you wish, you may browse archives (and feel free to comment) or follow my lame reblogging and lame original posts on my not-yet-blocked-at-work Tumblr.

Thank you.
Sincerely,
Mac

"Supposedly she drank blood, but, yeah, she was a great kisser."

Ran into some people on Facebook, saw some OLD pics, and fell victim to a hit and run of nostalgia.
So, I randomly picked an old post and cracked myself up.

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.

Sing...

or teach me.

The Dresden Dolls - "Sing" Music Video


Sometimes I feel nostalgia for love from both the past and the future.
Sometimes I feel if everyone heard this song, they's get it, whatever "it" is.
Sometimes I feel like everyone is laughably rushing about, grabbing this or grabbing that; and it all turns to sand in thier grasp.
Falls to Earth and fades away.
Gone.
Sometimes I think, "if I could just cut the top of my head off, tip it over like a teapot, dump the wet grey blanket out, plop the moldy brain out onto a large blank white canvas, spread it around with my shoe, it would look beautiful; this way, I could express everything I needed to show tell whisper and shout. Then I could sleep silently, and dream of something to come."
But skull remains intact, and the secret suffocates under a wet grey blanket. Moistly breathing, coughing spit, choking for a full inhalation of life.
Sometimes I want to sing.
Sometimes I want to hide under the couch.
Sometimes I feel totally indifferent apathetic bored, inescapably so.
Sometimes, but rarely, I don't think at all; and, really, this is probably when I am Singing and don't even realize it.
Sing.

A Dead Blog is worse than a Boring Blog

We're just going to pretend that line is true tonight even though the reverse probably rings more True*.

I'm bored and, ironically, sober on a Thirsty Thursday. Haven't had a drink tonight (read: to lazy to stop at the store for drinks).
And tired.
Biggie J. called off today at The Bank, "my back is bothering me," is what the voice mail said; actually, it said, "my bbaghk ith buthrin me" because the guy speaks like his mouth is filled solid with wet gauze. So the day went fairly fast and smooth doing his job and mine. And everything got accomplished correctly and on time; thus, again pointing out to me that really, we don't need him HA! Of course, if they did let him go, I wouldn't be able to cruise online or go grocery shopping on the clock, so I guess we'll keep him around.

Really I'm going crazy. Sort of. When I'm not staring off into space, half awake, my mind is filled with what could be described as the music played here. Just mildly raging with anger contempt static noise violent scratching sonic jabs. I berate myself for allowing myself to have ended up at this moment of my life.

Where did it all go sour?

I should be drifting in an Amber Ocean tonight, but I am dry on land. Twisting in the mental breezes, getting slapped in the face with needled fern leaves and rough palm branches. Sand in my eyes, grinding my pupils. Stranded on an Island of my own Making.

Pathetic.

Where did the ship get off course? Fuck?! Did I ever really leave the dock?

Ah well. It, technically, being Friday now, hope everyone has drink on me, then ;-)




*we were wrong, a dead blog is more interesting than a boring blog. Apologies.

The Waiting Game

Ho-hum.
I'm bored, and my eyes are bugging out.
"What," you may ask, "the hell are you doing? Drunk and insomnia?"

No, I've decided to stay up all night.

"Know thyself" it is written, and I do.
I know if I fell asleep at my normal time I would pull a total coma through the blaring alarms (yes, alarms, there are 3 set for every morning), and miss my cab, miss my flight and put my travel plans into complete disarray!

The last few hours trickle by filled with:

• Padding through the apartment (tsch tsch should have cleaned more)
• Petting Little Lilly (who is already breaking my heart at the thought of not being around her *sob*)
• Drinking a pot of coffee
• Worrying over the fact I only have one Camel Light remaining; considering walking to the twenty-four hour gas station up the street, but changing mind as I not in the mood to deal with the Cabbie/ Crack ho clientel there at this hour.
• Staring, walking away, coming back and staring longer at my suitcase. Do I have everything?
• Listening to classical music on the radio because I've learned over the past years classical music seems to stimulate something in my mind that keeps me awake (awake, not necessarily coherent).
• Fiddling with and putting away or rearranging various knick-knacks and papers laying around the apartment.
• Considering taking the rest of the garbage out (pfft, that's not going to happen).
• Wasting time making lame comments here and, of course, here.
• F.W.B? No, too late.
• Blowing my nose, it's so dry in here.
• Staring out the kitchen window at the empty street, slush, and fog.
• Plucking dead leaves from my straggly, scrawny tomato plant. It did flower once. Um, one tiny yellow flower. I want a baby tomato, dammnit!
• Zone-out on the various clocks throughout the apartment.
• Let the Blogger "New Post" screen burn itself into my retinas, flaring my rods and cones, for minutes at a time without typing. My Cube somehow turned into My Blank Shit. Guest bloggers may be needed. HA!
• Scroll through this.
• Pour another coffee.
• Look at last, lonely cigarette on microwave, "Resist, resist, man!"
• Try to think of a paid online job to do during my full-time Bank job since I have such the large amount of down time there. And really, doesn't I Have 3 Jobs ring well with My Cube Has 3 Sides?
• *sigh*
• I want chocolate.

Okay, I'm boring myself.

See you all later!

Mussolini is Hot for the Holidays

Apparently, people are really into searching for pictures of the great Italian dictator to download and frame for the holiday gifts this year. Upon checking my Sitemeter account, this snowy cold night, I discovered that 23 or my last 43 visitors ended up on this page because of this link I used to describe one of my former bosses (Boss Fanatic).

Oddly, when you do a comcast search for Mussolini under images, My Cube shows up as like the 8th link. Some sort of Neo-Musso Movement going on that I don't know about?

December 2007: Mussolini is the new naked Paris Hilton! Whoo-hoo.

Ah, well, pass the vino.

Ciao!

Yeah. I get paid for this.

This is a sort of montage/listy thing of a typical workday at The Bank:

• Leave home late (fifteen to twenty minutes late).
• Spend ride to post office berating myself for always being late.
• Smoke two cigarettes during ride.
• Fight/swerve/U-turn for a parking space as close as possible to the post office front door.
• If the Caller Window is open, make small talk with Larry. A big burly mean (teddy bear interior) hairy guy who loves to go "to the boats" and gamble and hates most all humans.
• If Caller Window is closed, I stand in line with the common folk and listen to everyone in line (which moves deathly slow. Always.) bitch and complain about how no one works here and they all suck and they move slow and everyone is going to call the Supervisor and there's always one nasally guy yelling as he walks out-- totally extending the rant to the point where you switch from being on his side to thinking, "man, shut the fuck up, bitch!"
• Get mail, light a smoke, pop in current punk tape your into this week, drive to The Bank.
• Give mail to Biggie J. and turn on computer.
• Make coffee.
• Check emails.
• Drink coffee.
• Respond to emails-- 40% of which are stupid and not my jurisdiction/job.
• Pop in a CD (this week= Modest Mouse, Husker Du, Suicidal Tendencies, and Lady Sovereign).
• Drink coffee.
• Deliver any supply orders I left from last night.
• Chat with two hottie Assyrian Tellers I'm trying to get with.
• Fail to hook up with two hottie Assyrian Tellers I'm trying to get with.
• Head back down to The Gopher Hole.
• Listen to music.
• Check email.
• Take nap while Biggie J. goes on his mail run.
• Check out Gawker and vote on my T-shirts.
• Drink Coffee.
• Think about a Lebanese women I met recently, wonder what she's doing.
• Go outside for a cigarette.
• Check out Gapersblock.
• Drink coffee.
• Change CD.
• Check out Chicagoist.
• Take a hot, dark yellow coffee piss.
• Walk around storeroom intending to REALLY straighten this place up more.
• Return to The Gopher Hole.
• Lay back in chair and stare at ceiling for a while.
• Surf the net, emailing myself interesting articles for future reference at home.
• Go outside for a smoke.
• Check emails.
• Drink Coffee.
• Go on a late "official" break, head outside for a smoke.
• Check emails.
• Recheck Gawker.
• Deliver some supplies.
• Return emails letting the recipient
• Nap again while Joe is on Mail run.
• Scratch balls.
• Go to lunch around 3 or 3:30.
• Clock back in and go outside for a cigarette.
• Come back, check-return emails.
• Clock out, go home.

The Gopher Hole at The Bank is either Heaven or Hell on Earth.

Off to the Mark II Lounge alone (again)

#261
because:
I'm bored.
I've had a (typically) lousy week.
I've got a belly-full of Jameson.
I'm horny (yes, shock to my friends...I lust!)
My booty-call is with her kid this weekend.
There's nothing on TV.
I'm Drunk.
And I've got no "boys to call" to have a B.N.O. with...my Bestest Wingman is a thousand miles away....Fucker! (just kidding).

Wish me luck, eh?

[update---well, I got drunk anyway, right?]

I'm bored

Anyone going out tonight?

Post in comments, and maybe I'll meet you there.

[Update: 10:45 p.m.-- screw it, I'm going to Gallaghers (#264)...why not, right?)