Remember me.

It's a crazy thing when people die, everyone says such nice things about them. Even the really big loser/asshole/psychopath/pedophiles of this world. I keep thinking, did this person, spouting poetry about the dearly departed, ever actually MEET them? Or did they just forget how much of a maggot the person was?

All of a sudden they go at it like its a real estate or personal ad.

"He was a quiet sensitive soul" DUDE! He was a pedophile. And if you believe in God, no he is not looking 'down' on us all he is most definitely peering up our skirts.

"She was such a sharing person." Maybe over sharing...she told people at the bar that her kids were dead when, in fact, she had just left them home alone. I am sure she got more than a few free drinks out of that.

"He was a pillar of the community." Maybe of the Arian Brotherhood Community.

"She put her heart and soul into everything she did." OMG....look up 'sociopath' in the dictionary...you will find her picture. She had the attributes of a cult leader. She manipulated 3 people into offing themselves just so she could host the candle light vigils and gofundme campaigns to help with funeral expenses.

I am sure everyone knows that one person that, upon their death, would be like me. Attending the wake armed with a hat pin so I can drive it into their temple (on the guise of kissing them goodbye) to make damned sure they are actually dead from one of the many terminal illnesses they NEVER had.

For the love of all things holy. When I die, please do not forget that I could be a complete asshole at times and I probably won't get wings on the first day. Me and Clarence will be fighting for the record.

Trump for President?

At first I thought it was a joke. I don't own a TV so I just go online every once in a while to CNN or something and catch up on all the shit I care nothing about.

So, I see Trump and listen to him go full retard on national TV and think...this is a joke, right? A gag? Punking the nation.

But it keeps on going. Day after day. I opened the page one day and it was a rally with thousands of people holding signs that said Trump for President. 

Shit just got serious. 

They are not seriously going to consider this crayon, are they? I mean, this is mass idiocracy, am I right?

To the moe rons who are thinking of actually voting for this clown.

HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MINDS?

No joke. 

Legit question.

Spider Racism.

I have discovered I am a spider racist.

I used to say, "I hate spiders!" Period.

But, I realize I don't hate all spiders. Just those asshole homeless spiders.

So, you got a spider up in the corner of the room, he is on his little web, doing his thing, minding his own fuckin' business. I am totally okay with that. I even talk to him and get worried when he hasn't moved in a while. Right now for instance, I believe he is dead, but I don't plan on getting close enough to get his vitals.

That spider, I am fine with.  Unless, of course,
you check the web and he is gone. Then all bets are off! Stay in your own neighborhood, Brah, or I will pop a cap in your ass!

This spider, however, is an asshole and as such has been blasted with the first thing that I could grab. Shaving cream would have been better, but it was 3 inches farther away than the baby powder. He is lucky I don't own a rifle. I believe this one is dead as well, but again, not checking for vitals.

Who raises these spiders? Where do they come from and why are they not just content with building a web and raising their children right. Raising them to not be assholes who spring up from the drain to scare the living shit out of people.

Sneaky-assholes homeless spiders. I am against them. There, I said it. I am a spider racist...and I am okay with it.

I am glad I work from home.

ISP service call drama leads to N.S. playwright's arrest.

"She told the technician, in a tirade, that he was not leaving her until her internet was working and she told him she was keeping him hostage," said Carr.

Luckily, not one of our customers.

Thanks, Kelly.

Are you kidding me?

Beheaded man identified

Imagine. This guy is sitting on a bus, minding his own business, when some complete stranger just decides that he wants to calmly...

CUT HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!

"There was no rage or anything. He was like a robot, stabbing the guy,"

I kid you not.

On a bus, driving down the road, in the middle of Butt-Fuck-Nowhere, Manitoba. How could you possibly see something like that coming?

I can't imagine that this is the first time this nutt bar did something crazy. No one goes from Joe Citizen to Murderous Fucktard in the blink of an eye.

I think we will inevitably learn, that this guy has been not-so-subtly telling people, "I am a fucking lunatic!" Dude was hacking off pieces of this kid and eating it. Someone in this assholes life had to know he was not wound right, and no one gave a shit enough to lock his ass up.

What exactly is this world coming to?

Sometimes I am a danger to myself.

There is absolutely nothing creepier than having something crawl across your face.

I am laying in bed, the alarm goes off. I slowly regain conciousness. What is that? Something tickling my forehead. Stray hair? I start to sit up.

HOLY FUCK IT IS CRAWLING TOWARDS MY EYE!

I freak out and instead of brushing it off, I am in a panic. All I want is for whatever it is to be dead. I can't imagine what it is, but I am sure it has more than two legs and am positive I wouldn't like it on me.

Without thinking I haul off and smack the thing. I didn't consider in doing so that I might hurt myself. I hit it with as much force as I would imagine it would take to fell a NFL linebacker.

I literally punched myself in the face. Knocking myself backwards on the bed and almost unconscious.

It was an ant, and it is most definitely dead. I believe I will have a shiner.

I am so fucking scarred for life. All day I kept imagining that I was seeing them crawling on me.

I gotta get back on my meds.

No one would ever suspect that she didn't belong.

Years ago my brother was working at a home for ... how to put this delicately? What am I saying, this is me, you aren't really expecting delicate are you?

As kids we called it the loony bin. Not criminally insane people, just insane. I am sure there is some politically correct word for it, but these people are probably too nuts to be offended.

Anyway, my brother is working there and every year they have a garden party. A little get together with family and residents. Open to the public so, you know, they can see that these people are harmless and thus they don't need to be afraid that there is a huge building full of them within walking distance and they can put the torches back in storage.

So, this one year he invites my mother to attend and she informs me that I am taking her. What the hell was my brother thinking? He has met her, hasn't he?

As we are making our way to the festivities, I warn her, "If you say anything to anyone, I will leave you here."

"What are you talking about, its a party, I will have to speak to people."

"You know what I mean."

No sooner was it out of my mouth when she spots her first victim and in an inappropriately loud voice she stops and points, "Oh Look! They have midgets!" Like she's just arrived at the circus or something.

I close my eyes praying for the ground to swallow me. "Mom, he works here. And I am pretty sure they don't like to be called midgets."

"So, what do you call them?"

"How about, 'the guy who works here'. Why do you have to call them anything?"

I find her a chair and get her a plate of food. Maybe stuffing her pie-hole will get us through this day alive.

As we sit enjoying the food and the entertainment, a man walks over to us. He is clearly a resident. He is an older man, with long white hair wearing only pajama bottoms and slippers.

Under my breath, "What now?"

He walks up to my mother and lays his plate at her feet. He then proceeds to get on all fours and eat it like a dog. Complete with wagging of non-existent tail.

My mother turns to me, she inhales as if to say something.

I stop her, "One fucking word and I swear to god, I will find you a room in this place."

Day Three - Sans The Boy.

The Boy has arrived in Florida and is in one piece. I doubt I will hear much from him now till he heads back. I hope he is having a ball, and that he is taking pictures. (men never think of that)

While he is gone I have cleaned the house and it has remained clean. Amazing how that works. It is really easy to keep a place clean when there is no one to go behind you and mess it up.

Sammy, his cat, is driving me bat-shit. He is acting like a real baby. Nothing I do for him works. He sits and howls. I give him food/water, he wasn't hungry/thirsty. I open the door for him, he is not interested in going out. He just looks up at me and howls. There is no consoling him.

If the door to The Boy's room is closed, he howls until I open it. He has to sleep in there. Even Milo sleeps in there with him, albeit just inside the door with one eye opened, so when The Boy returns he can make a fast getaway.

I know, you're all saying 'That's fuckin' adorable!' but he is seriously stomping all over my last nerve.

I'm so excited!

My training com padres (Pablo, Lenny, Wayne) and I will be on the road again tomorrow.

It's been a while since we traveled and I am looking forward to catching up.

I will take notes.

White Horse - False peace.

The Boy's Father has again begun to freak me out. I would say that over the last few weeks we have had a half dozen civil conversations. One day he even joked around with me. It makes me very uneasy.

There has got to be a rift in the space time continuum. Even though I left him 16 years ago, TBF usually acts like I punched him in the face yesterday. This niceness seems like one of the signs of the apocalypse.

I was discussing it with Bunnie the other night. I was telling her about The Boy driving me crazy with the car and his weekly bitch fest about where we live. (away from all his loser friends) He has been impossible to live with. Then I mention the uneasiness that TBF is causing. She knows TBF, so she understands why I would be suspicious.

"What do you think he is up to?"

"I'm hoping he's trying for custody."

I have a better chance of getting struck by lightning. In my living room.

Once more, with feeling.

Just when you thought there was nothing on TV, American Idol begins again. I never miss the audition rounds. They are just too funny.

From the truly aweful.



To the completely insane.


Where do all these mentally ill people come from?


And that was just Philly. Can't wait.

Bitch done lost her mind!

See this is what I mean. Give a kid that kind of money and fame and she will start to believe her own press.

She seems to think this is all a big joke. She is Britney, this is not happening.

Now she has apparently lost her mind. And all it took was someone to tell her she couldn't have something she wanted.

Give me strength.

I am not an animal person. That being said, animals love me.

Fifty people in a room, all vying for the dogs attention, and the fuckin' thing will come and drool on my fuckin' leg. Not so bad with other animals, cats you can get to fuck off with a well placed (covert) pinch, but dogs are just too much.

I try and politely shoo the dog away, it thinks it is a game. Until finally I have to say, "Can you get your fuckin' dog away from me?"

And that starts a whole other conversation, "Don't you like my dog?" At which point they always start talking to the dog in that retarded baby voice, "Mommy wuvs her widdle doggie wogggie!"

I close my eyes so they don't see them rolling into the back of my head. "Nothing personal against your dog, I don't like animals in general." They always take offense, followed by more retarded shit like covering the dogs ears like he can understand English or something. How could anyone not be madly in love with this wonderful creature that is part of their family.

Here's how:

1. They are obnoxious. They sniff you in places that you don't want to be sniffed and they sit and lick their balls/snatch in front of you.

2. They stink. Their breath stinks, their hair stinks. I don't care that you shampoo their beautiful coat with fifty dollar shampoo, they still stink.

3. They are not part of your family. They will eat your face when you are dead. The only reason they care whether you live or die is the fact that you feed them. Oh, there are reports, you say? Ya, consider it for a moment. "He barked and woke us all up, saved us from burning in a fire." Fuck off, if he could open the door himself he would have bailed without so much as a 'by your leave'. He could have cared less how you got out.

4. Drooling. 'Nuff said.

5. Stories of how you justify spending half the food budget on Fido makes my teeth ache. "Oh, he won't eat anything but porterhouse steak." Excuse me? Did he say that? Cuz if he did, we need to get him on Oprah. With that dog whisperer, just so we can hear him say, on national television that that idiot he is full of shit. The dog licks his balls, he destroys the garbage and drinks from the toilet. He will eat whatever you put in front of him. Eventually.

I understand that you love it. I am happy for you. Spend all your money on it, go broke treating its Rapid-Onset Dystonia Parkinsonism. Hell, let it sleep in your bed and eat at the table, I don't give a shit. But why do I have to play a role in your dementia?

Why is it so horrible that I believe it is just an animal. Fluffy might be cute and you might love Fluffy but Fluffy is not getting a liver transplant.

Pablo was in rare form.

After the 'alien' incident, Pablo was surprisingly quiet. I figured I should keep my mouth shut, since teasing him kept his shut. Where is the fun in that?

So today, after a week of silence, Pablo decides to regale us with a story.

"When I was in high school, me and the boys built a sugar shack in the woods. When along came a coyote. We thought, holy shit, where did this come from? Then I punched it in the snout and broke the f'ing thing. You should have seen it, it stuck straight up."

Silence.....

"At least I think it was a coyote."

I had absolutely no comment. I was waiting to see what Jackie Chan was doing while the coyote was getting its ass kicked.

Home of the Whopper!

Pablo tells a pretty tall tale. I am sure that some of these things sort of happened to him, but, like any good fish story, it gets bigger over time.

Like the time he and his brother were coming home from a night of heavy drinking and saw a horse running along the side of the road. His brother, of course, just happened to have 16 feet of rope on him and leaned out the window, lassoed the horse and rode it home. Or the time he beat the shit out of the Extreme Mountain Dew guy as Jackie Chan (apparently Mountain Dew guy's friend) sat back and watched.

After a week of traveling together we have heard pretty much everything.

So, we are 15 minutes into our commute when Pablo starts to tell a story. I let him get about three words out.

I grab his arm and ask, excitedly, "OOOOO...is this the one about the aliens?"

He looks at me, quizzically, "Uh, no." He tries to continue his story and again I interrupt him.

"Wait! Are there aliens in this story?"

Now he looks at me like I have two heads, but still is not catching on. You can see Lenny's shoulders start to shake. "No! Anyway..." and attempts to continue.

I interrupt one last time, "But you do have a story with aliens in it, right?" The other two guys are busting a gut, but Pablo is just irritated that I am stopping him from telling his story.

Then again yesterday we are 25 minutes into our commute home when Pablo starts to tell us about the time his friend pulled the pin from a grenade, tossed the pin and dropped the grenade at his feet. Lenny, Wayne and I are getting pretty punchy after spending all day at the trade show. We are tired, so we are just letting Pablo go.

At one point in the story, Pablo pauses for effect and I couldn't help myself. I am gazing out the window, deep in thought, "I shot a man once, just to watch him die."

Silence. Then Pablo says, "Really?"

"Ya, in Reno." Lenny loses it and Wayne almost goes off the road. "I ended up in Folsom prison and that prick, Johnny Cash stole my story. The rest, as the say..."

Things that make you go...hmmmm.

I spend a lot of time in front of this computer, and every time I think I have seen it all, I realize I never will. I have been on here a long time and I like to consider myself jaded but there is always something that makes me say WTF? Maybe it is because people are so bombarded with information 24/7 that everything is becoming boring. We are desensitized by the onslaught.

I was watching Gene Simmons Family Jewels the other night and they were in Vegas. What the hell is going on with Carrot Top? He's like Chucky....all cute at the beginning and now he is horror movie scary.

He was so fun to watch, all goofy hair, gangly arms and legs. Now he is just a freak show, you can't take your eyes off him. I kept waiting for his arms to pop or somethibng. Reminds me of those body builder chicks who's faces get all distorted. [Shiver]

I came across this the other night while searching for movies, R. Kelly - Trapped In The Closet Chapters 13-22???? Are you kidding me? Would someone just pull the trigger on this idiot already?

Not enough hours in the day.

I haven't blogged all week and I am not sure why. The Boy has been working with his father and we have been ships passing in the night. So I can't blame it on the Boy this time. The house looks like a cyclone hit it, so I can't say I was busy with housework.

Ok, I confess. Holy shit is this an intervention? Where is the camera crew?

"Hi, my name is Evel and I am addicted to Big Brother." There, I said it, are you happy now?

I don't really watch the show, since I already know what happens. I do download it to skip though for the America's Player thing but mostly I just read the live updates (holy shit, people watch the live feeds 24/7 and transcribe it word-for-word) or watch video highlights from the live feeds.

If you only caught an episode here and there on the actual CBS show, you have no idea what it is all about. By this time in the 'game' the back stabbing starts. This year you can thank the presence of Evil Dick (so far all I can figure out is that he is a actor/rock groupie), an absolute social retard, for all the mayhem. His MySpace shows him dressed up as a pedophile priest and a bloody tampon for Halloween. 'Nuff said.

With Dick around, it is fight fight fight, pretty much all the time now. He started just picking on one girl, now it is everyone. He is crude and rude, the others would say nothing in the girls defense, because they were scared he would turn it on them. However, they have had enough and are starting to fight back which is making it interesting.

He had an evil plan to back-door someone that failed miserably, so he has been ranting like a lunatic for the past few days.

It's fun to watch people lose their minds. I am addicted.

Don't worry, someone will piss me off soon, and I will start posting more often

Fade to black.

It was ten minutes til quittin' time and my phone rings. Someone upstairs hates me. After trying to beat the software to within an inch of its life, I realize I will I have to dig it out manually with a butter knife.

This is going to take forever. Wonder if a phone malfunction will go unnoticed? I look up, I am the only one on the phones and there is just one manager, So much for that idea. It would be like two guys in an elevator. One farts and everybody knows who did it.

2AM and I can't get one of my tools to work so I can't find the list of shit I need to remove from the registry, I look around, the place is empty and I swear to God I can hear crickets chirping. I give my head a shake, "You're losing it."

Finally finish ripping the software out of the computer with my bare hands at 3AM. Thank Fuck, I can get the hell out of here.

Again I hear the crickets chirping. Shouldn't there be some kind of haunting closing music as I fade to black? Who's delusion is this anyway? I say good night to the last manager standing.

ME: "Can you hear that?"

LAST MANAGER STANDING: Without looking up. "The chirping?"

Ya, guess I am not crazy after all, just in the middle of a bad movie.

Social Retardation fascinates me.

Since the projects have been shuffled, we lost Weird Office Guy to the new ISP project. But don't have a telethon for us. There are plenty more where he came from.

Enter WOG2.

A little back story. Every Friday the Muslims in our project take off around 1:30 for prayers at a local rec center. A few of them will dress in traditional garb for the occasion. (sort of, but not quite like the pic on the left) I was walking by WOG2 and did a double take. WTF? Is he wearing pajamas? Over his clothes? I just shake my head.

This does not go unnoticed by the rest of the project. Potsie pipes up. "What is up with WOG2?"

Ok, not to pick on the weirdos, I defend him, "Well, its Friday, maybe he is going to prayers."

"Is he even Muslim?" White dude, middle aged, with a forehead that reaches almost to the back of his head, and not in a sexy 'Captain Pickard' sort of way...you get me? More like, 'I am bald but I will grow my hair long so you don't realize I am bald' sort of delusional way.

"Maybe he has converted? Either that or he is just insane." I go about my business, but in the back of my mind, I have to find out this guy's deal. I was sure he was just going to prayers with the rest of them. Why would anyone risk public humiliation if not for religion?

It doesn't take me long to get the scoop. "Hey, remember WOG2? Ya, he is not going to prayers. Turns out he is just insane."

"That's a relief."

"He went on vacation in Africa. This is his Friday suit. Says that while he was there, he made it with a princess and apparently we will all be bowing down to him when he is ruler of the continent." I get a blank stare from Potsie.

"I kid you not. Dude is seriously ill. He says that shit with a straight face."

I think I will have to investigate deeper. How do people like this function in society? I mean, most of the Uber Geeks are a bit nutty buddy, we take it for granted. But our little 'geek central' hasn't been open more than 5 years. What was this dude doing before this?

This shit fascinates me.

Poetic justice or wishful thinking?


James Gandolfini Shot By Closure-Seeking Fan

Anyone who was pissed at the 'artsy' ending of the series can understand what would make this person snap.

I think we all were let down by the creators of the Sopranos with that half-assed ending. Justifiable homicide if you ask me.