Saturday, April 28, 2012
The Hands of Time!!!
I bought a stupidly large watch. Just now, at Target. I wanted to go look at the watches, merely look, mind you, not buy, because I've already spent way too much this month and rent is due in 3 days. I have a watch already, and I love it, people compliment me on it all the time. My usual reply is, "20 bucks at Target." This makes me appear humble, and thrifty. I use the term "appear", because I am neither.
My watch, though compliment-inducing, has a brown leather band. Recently I've taken to wearing black pants with bright, primary-colored button down shirts to work, accented with black--not white!--undershirts. The effect is chilling, I assure you. I cut a dashing figure. The short, portly man who works in the IT department, emblazoned with purples and reds, outlined in Johnny Cash black. Burrito gut bursting over his gun-metal Claiborn belt buckle like an exploding star in the night sky.
Sadly, all this black does not match my brown-leather-banned watch. I thought, rather appropriately, that I would fetch meself a new one, similar in it's uniqueness (ponder that sentence) only wreathed in a Nazgul-esque opaque, rather than Hobbitt-haired tawny brown. I found a watch, again for only 20.00, with a large, circular face mounted on a thin, black-rubber band. I wasn't crazy about the rubber, but I liked the fact that the face was round, since my other, already award-winning watch, has a square face. This would give my wardrobe the ultimate night and day dichotomy that I was seeking. Square face leather with my khakis, round faced rubber with my black slacks.
I smell a promotion!!!
But alas, the bigger-than-a-breadbox clock face was slightly larger on my wrist then it appeared in it's nifty little cardboard box on the rack. How big is it? Well, I'm pretty sure I saw Tim Robbins falling from the second hand as I removed it from the packaging.
Now I have to return it. Something I am loathe to do. Women return items. Men find a way to make use of them, or otherwise pretend we never bought them. Sound sexist? I don't care, it's true. I've never seen a male family member return a purchase. My mother, by contrast, buys half the store, then decides what she wants when she gets home, and returns 75% of it the next day. I could never understand this tactic, but I suspect it has something to do with her being "a lunatic", to use the medical terminology.
Anyway, I have a deep-seated fear of the return line. I always feel as though I'm becoming my mother when I approach that customer service counter. A fatter, Irish-complexioned, male version of my mother, who looks a little like Cher, only without the tattoos.
The truth is I suck at shopping. I lingered over the shoe aisle for almost an hour, knowing full well that I need at least 3 new pairs of shoes. I wear shoes until they literally fall apart. I look like some orphan boy in a Dickensian novel half the time, yet I always feel shoes are a waste of my money. Who's looking at my feet, anyway? I'm shorter than most people, they have a hard enough time seeing my face, no one's gaze is going to make it all the way down my body to the floor, that's like trying to talk to an ant. On a small island. While you circle around said island in a canoe. With an eye-patch.
Yep. That's exactly what it's like.
So now I have a too-huge watch and ugly, scuffed shoes that are falling to pieces. What's the moral here? Simple: use your cell phone to tell time, and buy a new fucking pair of loafers already.
See you at Customer Service!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Paths of Glory (Holes)
Monday night, the tail end of a four day Holidaze weekend. Tomorrow I start back at the Old Job. Computer Support Tech for a large moving and storage company I will henceforth refer to as "You Hall".
I quit this job exactly a year ago, and now I'm going back. Back to lower pay, higher call volume, and shittier insurance. Why would I do this, you ask?
Good question :(
To quote Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in "No Country for Old Men", I feel over matched. Or I guess I felt over matched. I was talking to all of these high level corporate A-holes all day, every day, listening to their demands and not meeting them. I didn't even understand what I was supposed to be doing, and thus I felt, well...Stupid, frankly.
You'd think I'd be used to that feeling by now, but alas, not yet! I still hold out hope that one day I'll be a Real Boy!!! (and therefore, "smart", apparently)
I'm also hoping, somewhat desperately perhaps, that I can finagle a "work-remotely-from-home" scenario out of this job which would allow me to drag my talentless corpse to LA where I can spend the remainder of my pathetic excuse for adulthood banging my head against the wall of would-be Hollywood fame. Hooray!
At the newly appointed age of 33, I am still holding on to boyhood dreams. And speaking of wet dreams...
Check out my Love Life!
I asked someone out on a date this past weekend, well I asked her to dinner, anyway. But what else, pray tell, would you call that?
"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night"?
"Oh, heavens, yes"!
Would that--COULD that--be construed as two buddies paling around a moderately expensive Italian restaurant in a "Friendly" type of way and nothing more???
I suppose it could, but...Really?
Come on, that's a date. I've asked people on dates before, and that's pretty much exactly how it went. Anyway, after a protracted and awkward good-bye in the parking lot, I leaned in for some good-night vertical CPR, only to be rebuked with the ol' turn-the-other-cheek defense, turning my pre-French open mouthed intentions into a good-bye peck on your Aunties cheek after Thanksgiving dinner.
Cold shit, brah. Cold...
So, not being able to let bygones lie (what?) I sent a text DEMANDING an explanation. I'm filled with good ideas, it seems :)
She gave me the "it's not you it's me" line. Seriously. Verbatim. It's-not-you-it's-me. In this day and age, as if we all didn't know what that really means. You're-fat-and-unattractive-and-I-can-do-better. I'd almost prefer the latter.
...almost.
Online dating didn't work out either. She let me fuck her, but my heart wasn't in it (though other parts were) and we quickly began mutually ignoring each other into relationship oblivion. Now it's just me and my girl The Internet, again. Wackin' it to tranny porn while eating cheeze-its on the love seat. Don't sit on my love seat, by the way. Ever.
Seriously.
Same old job. Same old singlehood. And yet I still go on, like a soldier in battle, running into the enemy trenches because the only thing behind me is the deserter's firing squad.
All in the Game, though, right?
ALL IN THE GAME...
I quit this job exactly a year ago, and now I'm going back. Back to lower pay, higher call volume, and shittier insurance. Why would I do this, you ask?
Good question :(
To quote Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in "No Country for Old Men", I feel over matched. Or I guess I felt over matched. I was talking to all of these high level corporate A-holes all day, every day, listening to their demands and not meeting them. I didn't even understand what I was supposed to be doing, and thus I felt, well...Stupid, frankly.
You'd think I'd be used to that feeling by now, but alas, not yet! I still hold out hope that one day I'll be a Real Boy!!! (and therefore, "smart", apparently)
I'm also hoping, somewhat desperately perhaps, that I can finagle a "work-remotely-from-home" scenario out of this job which would allow me to drag my talentless corpse to LA where I can spend the remainder of my pathetic excuse for adulthood banging my head against the wall of would-be Hollywood fame. Hooray!
At the newly appointed age of 33, I am still holding on to boyhood dreams. And speaking of wet dreams...
Check out my Love Life!
I asked someone out on a date this past weekend, well I asked her to dinner, anyway. But what else, pray tell, would you call that?
"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night"?
"Oh, heavens, yes"!
Would that--COULD that--be construed as two buddies paling around a moderately expensive Italian restaurant in a "Friendly" type of way and nothing more???
I suppose it could, but...Really?
Come on, that's a date. I've asked people on dates before, and that's pretty much exactly how it went. Anyway, after a protracted and awkward good-bye in the parking lot, I leaned in for some good-night vertical CPR, only to be rebuked with the ol' turn-the-other-cheek defense, turning my pre-French open mouthed intentions into a good-bye peck on your Aunties cheek after Thanksgiving dinner.
Cold shit, brah. Cold...
So, not being able to let bygones lie (what?) I sent a text DEMANDING an explanation. I'm filled with good ideas, it seems :)
She gave me the "it's not you it's me" line. Seriously. Verbatim. It's-not-you-it's-me. In this day and age, as if we all didn't know what that really means. You're-fat-and-unattractive-and-I-can-do-better. I'd almost prefer the latter.
...almost.
Online dating didn't work out either. She let me fuck her, but my heart wasn't in it (though other parts were) and we quickly began mutually ignoring each other into relationship oblivion. Now it's just me and my girl The Internet, again. Wackin' it to tranny porn while eating cheeze-its on the love seat. Don't sit on my love seat, by the way. Ever.
Seriously.
Same old job. Same old singlehood. And yet I still go on, like a soldier in battle, running into the enemy trenches because the only thing behind me is the deserter's firing squad.
All in the Game, though, right?
ALL IN THE GAME...
Monday, October 31, 2011
Monday Madness
Monday night, first day at work sans Garrett. It feels weird but also, for some reason, I think it's for the best. I'm sure I'll concentrate more, work harder, get shit accomplished.
We'll see.
My week of pseudo-vegetarianism has apparently come to an ignoble end. I went to Bashas after work and bought four pieces of fried chicken, extra greasy, and a pound of mac & cheese. I just had this amazing craving for fried chicken, like a pregnant woman, I couldn't make logical sense of it.
God I'm fat.
We'll see.
My week of pseudo-vegetarianism has apparently come to an ignoble end. I went to Bashas after work and bought four pieces of fried chicken, extra greasy, and a pound of mac & cheese. I just had this amazing craving for fried chicken, like a pregnant woman, I couldn't make logical sense of it.
God I'm fat.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Old People, Strudel, and Beer
Last night I drove 36 miles to east Mesa to go to a German restaurant with my grandparents, uncle, my uncle's girlfriend and my mom's boyfriend (my mom is in Florida right now helping my sister with the new baby).
The occasion? My grandparents have been married 66 years! If that's not effing insane I don't know what is!
Anyway, the food was good, but rich and heavy (as Germans themselves are) and I could only eat a small portion of my mammoth sized dinner, the remainder is in my fridge where it will remain indefinitely. After dinner we all split an enormous home-made strudel with custard and whip cream, it was quite amazing. I should mention that my grandparent's anniversary is also my grandfather's birthday. 89th birthday in this case. They are both healthier than than half the people I know. They're in better shape than me, for Pete's sake! (Well, so is almost anyone, but still...)
After dinner we all went back to my G-rent's house, talked politics, conspiracy theories, and the failing U.S. economy for awhile, then my uncle and his g.f. left and I was going to leave but it started raining hard and I wanted to wait it out.
My grandpa is a talker, and like many elderly people, he tends to tell the same stories over and over again as if I had never heard them. I was distracted, thinking about this upcoming biz trip I'm taking, and worrying about my job. I don't like to worry my family with stuff like that so I had been keeping it to myself, then as the night wore on and the rain kept falling, I figured, what the hell, this old man can't remember what he had for breakfast, let alone what I tell him tonight. So I confided my worries to him.
He listened calmly, didn't even seem surprised, I forget sometimes that my grandfather occupied an extremely high level position in a huge aero-space company and managed multi-billion dollar government contracts for most of his adult life. All without a college degree. The son of Italian immigrants who grew up in a tenement in Brooklyn with 7 siblings. Not bad!
He listened patiently as I expressed my concerns and then offered some extremely straightforward, simple advice for dealing with the stress I'm feeling. I felt better immediately, though I'm still conscious of the fact that I don't belong in this world. My grandfather wanted to be in business, and he thrived in the high pressure atmosphere, but I do not. In fact, I thrive in low pressure atmospheres, like my own apartment, alone, with a cup of coffee and a laptop. Everything outside of that is incredibly challenging.
I guess there are two types of people in this world, those who like being at work, and those who don't. Either way we all have to go, we all gotta pay the rent, buy groceries, keep clothes on our backs, etc.
So...make the best of it, right?
Right :)
Anyway, it's always inspiring to see how long-lived and (relatively) happy my grandparents are, I wonder if I'll make it to 89...?
Hahahahaahahahaha.....Oh, that's a GOOD one, Scotty Boy!
See you in the heart attack ward!
The occasion? My grandparents have been married 66 years! If that's not effing insane I don't know what is!
Anyway, the food was good, but rich and heavy (as Germans themselves are) and I could only eat a small portion of my mammoth sized dinner, the remainder is in my fridge where it will remain indefinitely. After dinner we all split an enormous home-made strudel with custard and whip cream, it was quite amazing. I should mention that my grandparent's anniversary is also my grandfather's birthday. 89th birthday in this case. They are both healthier than than half the people I know. They're in better shape than me, for Pete's sake! (Well, so is almost anyone, but still...)
After dinner we all went back to my G-rent's house, talked politics, conspiracy theories, and the failing U.S. economy for awhile, then my uncle and his g.f. left and I was going to leave but it started raining hard and I wanted to wait it out.
My grandpa is a talker, and like many elderly people, he tends to tell the same stories over and over again as if I had never heard them. I was distracted, thinking about this upcoming biz trip I'm taking, and worrying about my job. I don't like to worry my family with stuff like that so I had been keeping it to myself, then as the night wore on and the rain kept falling, I figured, what the hell, this old man can't remember what he had for breakfast, let alone what I tell him tonight. So I confided my worries to him.
He listened calmly, didn't even seem surprised, I forget sometimes that my grandfather occupied an extremely high level position in a huge aero-space company and managed multi-billion dollar government contracts for most of his adult life. All without a college degree. The son of Italian immigrants who grew up in a tenement in Brooklyn with 7 siblings. Not bad!
He listened patiently as I expressed my concerns and then offered some extremely straightforward, simple advice for dealing with the stress I'm feeling. I felt better immediately, though I'm still conscious of the fact that I don't belong in this world. My grandfather wanted to be in business, and he thrived in the high pressure atmosphere, but I do not. In fact, I thrive in low pressure atmospheres, like my own apartment, alone, with a cup of coffee and a laptop. Everything outside of that is incredibly challenging.
I guess there are two types of people in this world, those who like being at work, and those who don't. Either way we all have to go, we all gotta pay the rent, buy groceries, keep clothes on our backs, etc.
So...make the best of it, right?
Right :)
Anyway, it's always inspiring to see how long-lived and (relatively) happy my grandparents are, I wonder if I'll make it to 89...?
Hahahahaahahahaha.....Oh, that's a GOOD one, Scotty Boy!
See you in the heart attack ward!
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Travails
I'm going to D.C. on Monday, I'll be there for about 3 days, then I come back and go to Denver. My family is really proud of me. Making good in "The Business World".
The truth is I have no friggin' idea what I'm doing, and I suspect my boss has figured that out, I seem to be on his permanent shit list, which would upset me more if I thought there were no good reason for it, but honestly, I don't think I'm cut out for this shit.
I'm a liberal arts-minded guy working in the corporate world, and doing a lousy job of it. So, I guess I'll try and enjoy the free travel as much as possible before I get axed or finally quit and go back to school or move to L.A. or become a wandering mendicant in India. Either way is good.
I hate to disappoint mi familia but they don't have to live my life, only I do, and lately it's been pretty fucking hairy. When I was living in Chicago, working as a tour guide and putting on sketch comedy shows for 9 people in dive bars in the middle of February, I thought it was shit, you know? I was like, "Man, this is no kind of life. I want to BE somebody!"
But now, looking back, I understand the nostalgia for the simple life, the exuberance of youth, the nobility of work performed not for money, but for pleasure.
We live in an imperfect world, there's no particular life-style or profession I can choose that will make me permanently happy, or solve all of my problems, I accept that. But I can certainly choose to leave a mark on the world that is greater (in my opinion) than the number of zeros on my last pay stub. And working to perfect an artistic ideal versus working to achieve the business goals of a morally questionable industry is a no-brainer. I choose the former, even at the expense of "My Future", which will happen or not happen regardless of job/status/bank account. We live until we die, and what's left over are the memories we imprint on those around us. That's what counts. That's what matters, I think. I don't know. I'm just some dude the same as the next, but that's my best guess, anyway.
If you're reading this and you have a suggestion or an idea worth sharing, chime in. Otherwise...see you out there, and good-luck!
Scott
The truth is I have no friggin' idea what I'm doing, and I suspect my boss has figured that out, I seem to be on his permanent shit list, which would upset me more if I thought there were no good reason for it, but honestly, I don't think I'm cut out for this shit.
I'm a liberal arts-minded guy working in the corporate world, and doing a lousy job of it. So, I guess I'll try and enjoy the free travel as much as possible before I get axed or finally quit and go back to school or move to L.A. or become a wandering mendicant in India. Either way is good.
I hate to disappoint mi familia but they don't have to live my life, only I do, and lately it's been pretty fucking hairy. When I was living in Chicago, working as a tour guide and putting on sketch comedy shows for 9 people in dive bars in the middle of February, I thought it was shit, you know? I was like, "Man, this is no kind of life. I want to BE somebody!"
But now, looking back, I understand the nostalgia for the simple life, the exuberance of youth, the nobility of work performed not for money, but for pleasure.
We live in an imperfect world, there's no particular life-style or profession I can choose that will make me permanently happy, or solve all of my problems, I accept that. But I can certainly choose to leave a mark on the world that is greater (in my opinion) than the number of zeros on my last pay stub. And working to perfect an artistic ideal versus working to achieve the business goals of a morally questionable industry is a no-brainer. I choose the former, even at the expense of "My Future", which will happen or not happen regardless of job/status/bank account. We live until we die, and what's left over are the memories we imprint on those around us. That's what counts. That's what matters, I think. I don't know. I'm just some dude the same as the next, but that's my best guess, anyway.
If you're reading this and you have a suggestion or an idea worth sharing, chime in. Otherwise...see you out there, and good-luck!
Scott
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Geeza Louisa
Wednesday. Day of the Humps. Or is it just hump? Either way ain't nobody humped this guy in many a moon. Gettin' a little...backed up, if you know what I'm sayin...
Work this week has been exceptionally boring, not enough to do, which during the busy times I'm sure I will miss, but while it's happening, or not happening I guess, it sucks.
It remains true that I am not a great, or even good, technical support specialist. I know more about fixing cars than I know about software, and as we all know, cars run on unicorn tears and magical beans.
Right?
I guess I don't really know anything about anything. Which is a problem, if you plan on not being independently wealthy. I have to work, but I'm not very good at it. I'm also not very good at dieting, apparently.
I've been trying to reduce my overall carb intake, in a (so far futile) effort to shed the extraneous belly fat which has grown out of my torso at a staggeringly successful rate in the last 4 years. I blame Arizona. Before I moved here I lived in Chicago, didn't have a car, used to walk everywhere. You know how much weight you lose carrying groceries 9 blocks back to your apartment in a -7 degree windchill?
Me neither! But it's significant. That's all I'm saying. Now I drive to the fuckin' mailbox, for Christs' sake. Of course I could join a gym, but nothing fills me with more disgust for modern society than the invention of gymnasiums. We've built an entire industry out of the human hamster wheel. Paying money to run on a machine that takes you nowhere. Lifting heavy objects repeatedly only to put them back in the exact spot you got them. Ludicrous.
I should be working the fields, tending a flock of goats, or spear fishing on a coral beach. That's how our ancestors kept fit!
...
Basically, I'm lazy.
Which brings me back to my life as a technical support specialist. When people call me with problems, I don't really feel the burning desire to assist them. It's more of a strenuous emotional resistance to hear anything they're saying to me. I've hung up on people, only to have them call back and blame it on the VOIP system.
Not at my current job, mind you! I'm VERY productive and helpful in my CURRENT job! All smiles!!! :) ;) :0
FML...
I came home today and cooked up some hamburger meat mixed in that pre-packaged taco seasoning shit. But I only had one taco shell, so I ate the one taco, then just spoon-fed myself ground beef with shredded cheese on top until I was sickly full.
I think I have a problem.
But hey, at least I'm not an alcoholic, huh? Right? AM I RIGHT?!!
Fuck yeah!!!
I am the most successful person ever! Continue to read my blog!
The End.
-McNooch
Work this week has been exceptionally boring, not enough to do, which during the busy times I'm sure I will miss, but while it's happening, or not happening I guess, it sucks.
It remains true that I am not a great, or even good, technical support specialist. I know more about fixing cars than I know about software, and as we all know, cars run on unicorn tears and magical beans.
Right?
I guess I don't really know anything about anything. Which is a problem, if you plan on not being independently wealthy. I have to work, but I'm not very good at it. I'm also not very good at dieting, apparently.
I've been trying to reduce my overall carb intake, in a (so far futile) effort to shed the extraneous belly fat which has grown out of my torso at a staggeringly successful rate in the last 4 years. I blame Arizona. Before I moved here I lived in Chicago, didn't have a car, used to walk everywhere. You know how much weight you lose carrying groceries 9 blocks back to your apartment in a -7 degree windchill?
Me neither! But it's significant. That's all I'm saying. Now I drive to the fuckin' mailbox, for Christs' sake. Of course I could join a gym, but nothing fills me with more disgust for modern society than the invention of gymnasiums. We've built an entire industry out of the human hamster wheel. Paying money to run on a machine that takes you nowhere. Lifting heavy objects repeatedly only to put them back in the exact spot you got them. Ludicrous.
I should be working the fields, tending a flock of goats, or spear fishing on a coral beach. That's how our ancestors kept fit!
...
Basically, I'm lazy.
Which brings me back to my life as a technical support specialist. When people call me with problems, I don't really feel the burning desire to assist them. It's more of a strenuous emotional resistance to hear anything they're saying to me. I've hung up on people, only to have them call back and blame it on the VOIP system.
Not at my current job, mind you! I'm VERY productive and helpful in my CURRENT job! All smiles!!! :) ;) :0
FML...
I came home today and cooked up some hamburger meat mixed in that pre-packaged taco seasoning shit. But I only had one taco shell, so I ate the one taco, then just spoon-fed myself ground beef with shredded cheese on top until I was sickly full.
I think I have a problem.
But hey, at least I'm not an alcoholic, huh? Right? AM I RIGHT?!!
Fuck yeah!!!
I am the most successful person ever! Continue to read my blog!
The End.
-McNooch
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Delightfully Behind the Times
I purchased a used Playstation 2 today. I found it on craigslist, some guy in Mesa was selling it with 13 games for $50. Not bad. Took me forever to drive out there, the traffic going eastbound after 4 is INSANE, I never realized that. Anyway, after all that trouble and money I realized within 10 minutes of hooking it up that I really didn't need this thing. I mean, I don't like video games. I'm TERRIBLE at them, and they frustrate me. But oh well, what's done is done. Maybe I'll get better at it. Or maybe I'll just get fatter.
Probably both.
If nothing else I now have a dvd player for my tv. I was, up until now, watching all my movies on my laptop, which was pretty annoying. I am at this moment watching The Royal Tenenbaums on the PS2 while typing away with speed and vigor on my laptop, lounging on my new bed! I don't have much, but what I have is mine, and it took me a long time to get, so excuse my foolish pride!
Man, my neck is sweaty. WTF?
This weekend I'm taking Saturday off (normally a work day for me) and participating in the Phoenix 48 Hour Film Challenge. I'm really excited, but also nervous, apart from the cinematographer I've never worked with or even met any of these people, I hope I don't let them down.
Probably both.
If nothing else I now have a dvd player for my tv. I was, up until now, watching all my movies on my laptop, which was pretty annoying. I am at this moment watching The Royal Tenenbaums on the PS2 while typing away with speed and vigor on my laptop, lounging on my new bed! I don't have much, but what I have is mine, and it took me a long time to get, so excuse my foolish pride!
Man, my neck is sweaty. WTF?
This weekend I'm taking Saturday off (normally a work day for me) and participating in the Phoenix 48 Hour Film Challenge. I'm really excited, but also nervous, apart from the cinematographer I've never worked with or even met any of these people, I hope I don't let them down.
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