Happy Father's Day Dad.

My Dad always had a bottle of Pepsi for me. (That's me picking my nose.) I followed that man around like a puppy.



I think that is my brother Paul that my father is burying. He loved vacation, I think he was most disappointed once we were all too old to drag along.



Actually I think Paul still has this old truck, or one just like it.



The whole Famn Damily. Can't tell we were Catholic, eh? From right to left: David, Paul, Kevin, Dad, Adele, Me, and then my little brother Christopher in Dad's arms. My mother just loved to 'pose' us.



My father always had a ball at Christmas time. He usually went overboard, but he loved the whole 'Santa' thing. One year he filled our living room with gifts. There was only paths for each of us to get to a seat. And to keep the 'Santa' thing alive, every single gift was wrapped in the same paper. It was a sight, presents up to our wastes all wrapped the same. All from 'Santa'.


1927 - 1989

I miss you Santa.

I.O.U...six hours.

Just finished watching the Omen Trilogy with the boy.

It took me a week to download, all the while telling the boy that this was way scarier than any of that slasher shit he watches. We queue it up and sit back in the dark.

Do we lose our minds when we get older? I remember being scared out of my wits when I saw these movies. They gave me nightmares. Watching it again (thirty years later) I found myself wondering what I was thinking.

Are we all so desensitized now that the hairy eyeball and violin music does not scare us anymore? Or, in the case of the Omen, was it that it had religious references that today's kids don't get. Back then, I guess, we had it in the back of our mind that this was something that could happen. Not just could happen, but was foretold to us in Sunday school, and at mass.

Thirty years ago, the Omen scared me shitless, today, I had to apologize for wasting 6 hours of the boys life. I won't waste the bandwidth downloading the Exorcist.

Please give to the 'Run The Bitch Out Of Town' Fund

Hopefully this will help with the move.



I am going to miss that broad!

You wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the lambs.

My friend, Donna, is leaving in a few weeks. Like every person with any ambition, she is packing up and heading west.

Recently another girl that works with us suggested a surprise party. Just a little get together to say bon-voyage.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" She looked at me funny, cuz I was looking at her like she forgot to wear pants.

"What?"

"You only know 'Work Donna'"

"What the hell does that mean?" I get an evil grin on my face, this could be quite entertaining for me if not down right traumatic for everyone else.

"Never mind."

Let's see, how to describe Donna? Donna is Archie Bunker in a skirt. Lovable, but far from even remotely being politically correct. When she drinks, she drinks herself silly and rarely if ever remembers a thing she says or does while under the influence. She is crude, rude and will say anything to anyone.

Picture it, Sicily... Donna and I are at a pub, we are sitting at a table with some other girls from work. She looks over at a table containing 5 guys.

"Well those fuckin' guys must be gay!", she says, too loudly for the volume of the music.

"Why is that?"

"A bunch of guys all sitting together at a bar."

"Um, we are all sitting together..." She misses it.

Then she spots a guy wearing a white belt with studs on it. She staggers up to him and says, "Holy shit, with a belt like that you must be taking it up the ass, right?" It is a question, and she expects an answer.

The table we are sitting at is very close to the low stage, where our friends from work are performing an acoustic set. Donna is sitting so close that the guitarist could literally bash her scull with the butt of the guitar without much effort. It surprises me when he doesn't. Remember they are playing acoustic. She yells to me like we are at an AC/DC concert, "Holy shit these guys suck!" and starts screaming "FREE BIRD!"

We decide to grace another bar with our presence. It is at the other end of town, we start walking. (when I say the other end of town, it is a small town, maybe 3 blocks) This is a ghost town after midnight. Donna decides she has to pee. At this hour there is only one place open, a pizza joint. Does she go inside? No. She doesn't even notice the place. She picks that spot on the sidewalk to haul her drawers down and piss on the sidewalk. I just shake my head.

We get to the other bar, she is sitting quietly. This makes me very nervous. She is staring at a black dude, he is wearing parachute pants, a muscle shirt and he has elastic bands on his biceps. Finally, she stands up, "Fuck it! I have to ask."

This is where I exit the establishment. To this day I have no idea what she so desperately needed to ask and neither does she. The real miracle is that she did not get her ass kicked. For some unfathomable reason, no one ever gets pissed off at her. They laugh. I don't know if it is how she says it, or if they think she is trying to be funny, but they think she is hilarious.

So, all this is running through my head as the girls start planning their little get together. Like it will be some sort of garden party. I hope they have a good plan to get her there, cuz it doesn't sound like anything she would be remotely interested in. They will have to come up with a pretty good lie about where they are taking her. Like maybe to a stip joint for some dwarf tossing. "Oh, Oh, I know, we should get some beer!" Like lambs ... Well, you know.

"Tell me, Clarice - have the lambs stopped screaming?"

I will keep you posted.

Those Kookie Kanadians!

This is embarassing as a Canadian, but don't you wish all bills were passed this way? Might save some time and a whole lot of bullshit.

Federal budget passes unopposed on mix-up

Amir and the laptop.

This cracked me up.

The story in a nut shell: This guy, Amir, sells a laptop on eBay. Turns out the laptop is not what he described and to add insult to injury, it is broken. He refuses to refund the buyer. Laughing all the way to the bank, right?

Wrong, the buyer gets some sort of revenge. He somehow gains access to the laptop and begins to post the contents of the hard drive on a blog.

This also spawns another blog to continue the saga. As well as some media coverage.

All the buyer wants now is an apology and he will shut the site down. Judging from some of the content, you would think that Amir would gladly comply, right? Wrong again.

Amir is not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

A classic!

Radmilla motivated me to dig up this classic from 1999. Enjoy.

You can't listen without moving, just try it. I dare ya!



You got any classics you want to share?

Get R and D on that immediately!

I woke up this morning with screaming back pain. I could barely move. I hobbled to the can and that is where I had an epiphany.

I have to either lose weight or grow longer arms.

I kid you not, this morning the length of my arms in proportion to the size of my butt became a real issue.

The diet and exercise thing does not appeal to me in the least. There has to be a better way, after all, they have pills to grow your penis longer, there has to be a solution for the fat chick.

I am looking into it.

The Joh.n How.ard Conspiracy.

The boy is in trouble again, for some stupid shit, a fight at the school. I know, imagine that, kids fighting at school. Call the national guard. It happened a month ago, the primaries in the dispute (which did not include the boy) had been dealt with, suspended and are back in school.

This week I get a call from the school, the boy has confessed to being involved so he is suspended. Interesting, a month later they decide to include the boy. He was there, he admits that, and at one point he laid hands on the kid. I asked the boy, he said that the kid was pushed towards him, and he pushed back. Sounds like a reaction. I picked up the boy, I asked him why he would confess to fighting if he wasn't. "She asked me if I laid hands on him, I said yes." He did not elaborate, he is the kind that just doesn't want to argue about it. "She wouldn't believe me if I told her, she would say I was lying, I didn't want to argue."

"Can't you deny?"

"What?" Who's kid is this?

"Good grief, what kind of a teenager are you. Deny, deny, deny!"

"Nice motherly advice, Mom."

"Well, Jesus, the way your going you'll end up in San Quentin for rubbing out Hoffa."

"Huh? Anyway, they said the police will be getting involved."

"Nice, well you say not another word about it. And you talk to no police without me present."

"She wants to talk to me when I come back after suspension."

"Tell her to talk to the hand, she was judge jury and executioner. You did your time, that's all she gets from you."

Fast forward to today. The police call. I'll just give you the highlights.

ME: Didn't this happen a month ago? Your just getting around to the boy?
FIVE OH: His name came up. He was there.
ME: What did the supervisor say?
FIVE OH: Huh?
ME: Oh I get it, there was no supervisor.
FIVE OH: No, we only talked to the kids.
ME: Nice, so we are taking the word of a bunch of kids, not mine of course, you can't believe a word he says right? (he gets the sarcasm)
FIVE OH: Well we have decided to allow them to go through Joh.n How.ard Soc.iety.
ME: I get it now.
FIVE OH: Excuse me?
ME: Never mind, tell me when to be there.

Let me explain about the Joh.n How.ard Soc.iety. It is an alternative to taking it to court. Sounds like a good thing for all us parents. Avoid a criminal record for the little demon spawns and we don't have to stand in front of a judge and be embarrassed by our ill mannered, unruly children. Right?

Here is the real reason for Joh.n How.ard Soc.iety. The kids are told if they confess, they go through this program, there is no criminal record, simple. Simple yes, for the Five-Oh. They don't have to actually investigate. They get to say they cracked the case without ever having to put down the doughnut. And the bonus? Since there was no investigation to speak of, they don't have to PROVE any of it in court. It's called cooking the books, boys. You didn't solve any crime, but you get points for it.

I have half a mind to just say fuck it. I will see you in court, forward your discovery documents to legal aide and clear your calendar for deposition. I will be asking you for your notes as well on how much actual time you spent on trying to get to the truth instead of taking the word of teenagers who just don't want to get in trouble with their Moms. And then I go after the school for setting him up for this little Joh.n How.ard Soc.iety bust. Don't think I didn't see the connection, asshole! That bitch principal is probably getting a kickback.

Fortunately for them, I, like most parents, are of the other half of the mind that says, "whatever dude". I will just have to speak to the boy about his tendency to confess to everything he is accused of.

I will make cards up for him that reads: "I'll TAKE THE FIFTH."

Ok, so this is Canada and it is actually Section 11 and Section 13, of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. But that would be hard to fit on a business card. It would be so much cooler if it was Section 8, but this is Canada, we are not cool.

PSA.

I wanted to talk a little bit about the guy who's funeral I attended. Lets call him Dave and his although not technically, for all intents and purposes ex-wife, we shall call her Cunt, for that is what she is.

I met Dave and the Cunt, when they were still together at a friends cottage one summer 5 or more years ago. Five minutes after I met the Cunt I hated her, 10 minutes after that I just had to ask Dave. "What the hell are you doing with THAT?"

You see Dave was a quiet, sweet man. Soft spoken, a family man. Loved his kids, loved doing stuff with them, wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful of it. The Cunt on the other hand, could make a long shoreman blush. She was loud, obnoxious crude and rude. She is what most would refer to as a pig. Not only a pig, but she was evil as well. I recently learned that during the receiving line at her wedding she turned to Dave's brother and said, "Now that he's married me, I can tell you to go fuck yourself." Classy, eh?

Fortunately at the time I met him, while the Cunt was cheating on him with random men in bars, he was conversing on the internet with who would later become his true wife. Let's call her Maggie (I don't know why, I just like that name). As luck would have it, I would later end up working with Maggie. She was exactly right for him. Quiet and kind, just what he needed.

Life should have been sweet, don't you think? Well think again. The Cunt did everything she could to make life miserable for Dave and Maggie. She refused to divorce him, and Dave not wanting to make trouble, never pushed her. He knew that she was the kind of person that would keep him from his children if she got pissed, which she seemed to do at the drop of a hat. She was greedy and sneaky. She was living rent free in a house her father owned (a fact she neglected to tell Dave) she told Dave that it was costing her $700 a month and he paid it, on top of providing for his kids. She would pocket the money and drink it away.

So sitting in the church drilling holes into the back of the Cunts head I had an un-Christian thought. Why isn't she the one who is dead? What the hell was God thinking? This woman (I kid you not) manipulated people at the hospital so she was left alone with Dave. The man is dying and she browbeats him into signing his life insurance over to her. It had originally been put in trust for his children. The Cunt has balls, stealing from her own children. And just to make sure his mother would not contest it, she told her, "Don't piss me off, or you will never have contact with your grandchildren."

It is true what they say, only the good die young. The Cunts of this world live on.

You would think that with the amount of psychopaths on the planet there should be some sort of service industry associated with them. Some sort of database we can all contribute to. A list of assholes and cunts with an accounting of all the evil things they did. Addresses to their homes so the psychos can find them easy enough. I mean if your going to be a serial killer, why not go on the internet and kill someone no one will miss? A public service instead of random acts of violence.

Who's with me? I have a wood lot in the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere, if they need a place to dispose of the bodies.

I am all about public service.

Is there such a thing as being too prepared?

Have you ever thought of what you would like in the way of a funeral? Have you thought about the hymns? What kind of flowers? Who do you want speaking for you after you are dead?

I went to a funeral for a friends husband today, he was only 37. The whole thing was very sad. Sad mostly because his kids are only 11 and 8. To lose your father that young would be tough, I was 23 when I lost mine and it wrecked me.

The saddest thing, however, was how pitiful the whole production was. It is all well and good to stick with your own perish at a time like this, but this is their business. Any church on the planet should have funerals, weddings and christening down to a science. It was like a dentist who just couldn't do a decent filling.

We walked into the church and I knew right away it wasn't Catholic. Oh, there were the obligatory stained glass windows, pews that were hard and uncomfortable, the smell of candle wax and hymn books on the seats. But that is where the similarities ended.

First of all, there was no altar, definitely not Catholic. I look up on the left of the pulpit and there is a huge picture. Not of any religious figure, that would be expected. It was a man in a top hat, what the hell was that about? And I am sorry, but there is something inherently wrong with a big-ass clock behind the pulpit. And when I say big, I mean you could see this thing from space.

Catholics are more traditional, we do weird things like put the Lord up there. Big cross, that sort of thing. Madness I know, when that space can be put to better use, like inform the congregation of the passage of time. But once the service started I saw the wisdom of this. It was a hope clock, hope that time is indeed passing and that there is an end in sight.

The minister, unfortunately, was about 12. I was worried about him the second I set eyes on him. He began the service and he made no sense at all. He was reading the scriptures like he had never heard them before. You know how that sounds? If you don't put inflection in the right place, everything sounds wrong. I think an older minister could have done it a bit more justice. There is no substitute for experience in situations like that.

The choir sounded like it was hastily put together. Even though most of them were in their late seventies I think maybe it was. As we were standing at the back of the church looking for a seat, one of the singers asked if we wanted to sit with them, all we had to do was sing.

I don't know about you, but I want a choir that has at least met each other before. A couple practices would have been nice. But once they realized how much they sucked, they should have done us all a favor and kept the hymns to one verse.

The personal stuff, from family members and the priests own personal reflections about the deceased was heart wrenching. The man knew for about 6 months that he was dying. He tried to do all those things that you put off thinking you have all the time in the world. He had family portraits done, bought gifts for the kids, memory boxes for their graduation presents, that sort of thing. He even got diamond earrings for his daughters wedding.

Perhaps he really didn't care how the funeral itself went but you only get one chance at a decent funeral, you have to make it count. I have been to some beautiful services, so I know it can be done.

Is it morbid to plan for your funeral now, in the event you have no say in the matter later?

After three, you get a free scarf.

All I had to do was avoid a CAP. Corrective Action Plan. Translation: you hurt my feelings pissed me off, this is your first warning. If you are on a CAP you cannot move to another project.

I was happily on my way to tech support. All the planets were in alignment, plans were made, appointments shuffled. "All you have to do is avoid a CAP." That's what MO said. I have been here 3 years and only ever had one. How hard could it be?

Well it is tough to do when you can't trust anyone. The other night I was irritated with my TM. Another TM was lurking around, you know the type, mixing with the underlings, pretending to be one of us.

Joking around I made a comment referring to my TM, "...he emailed me and he was sitting 2 feet away, the little weasel." To which she commented, "That's not what WE call him." Ha, Ha! Laughter, conversation over.

Next thing you know, my TM is calling me in the huddle room and telling me she spilled her guts, told him everything. Everything? I am pretty sure she left out her comment. He has been to HR, he says, they said he should CAP me. WTF? "Why wouldn't you just come and talk to me? It was not a malicious comment."

After speaking with him, I conveyed to him that as a manager, perhaps he should learn to take care of these things himself, before running to Mommy with his problems. Ok, not in so many words. But its hard to deal with superiors who are half your age. I think I got through to him. I explained to him that I can't go to tech support if I am on a CAP, and if I don't go, then he would be stuck with me.

He says he doesn't want to hold me back. He is going to give it some thought. Hope his head doesn't explode.

Stupidity, not just for American's anymore.

I was reminded of a conversation I had with my friend a few years ago.

She was shopping in the states and apparently was having car trouble. She decided to call me from the road, I think she was in Maine.

FRIEND: We hit a pothole and bent the rim on the tire, we gotta get it replaced before it totally fails on us.
ME: Ok, and your calling me why?
FRIEND: I need you to check the internet for the nearest Canadian Tire.
(I waited for her to correct herself, she did not just say Canadian Tire.)
ME: I don't have to check.
FRIEND: Don't fuck around, this is serious. We are in Buttfuck nowhere, Maine. Where is the nearest Canadian Tire.
ME: Uh, I would have to say ... Canada.

This is where her brain caught up to her mouth. After a stream of obscenities I found her a tire place in Maine.

I am sure she said something to the effect of 'let us never speak of this again'. But funny shit needs to be recorded for posterity. It's like a law or something.

Weird Office Guy - Part 3

I walk into the break room and WOG is standing in front of the vending machine with a rolled up piece of scribbler paper in his ear.

I come back to my seat. I have a bewildered look on my face so, of course, someone asks what is up. I tell them.

"He was just standing there, staring at the vending machine."

Little blond chick pipes up, "Oh, I think he does that so he can hear with a one sided headset. You know, keeps the background noise out."

I look at her like she is retarded, "He was in the break room."

"Ya, I guess that is weird."

"Ya think?"

Oh, the humanity!
I got a new bed the other day. I got rid of my old one, but had to spend one night without any bed at all.

Big deal, right? I'll just bunk on the couch for the night.

Holy shit was that ever a colossal mistake. There is a certain point in everyone's life where these decisions should be given a good deal more thought.

I woke up (insanely early) with pains in joints I didn't realize I had. How do you get a charlie horse in your ribs? What the hell is up with that? I think it might have more to do with my overall health and my affliction with FCS (Fat Chick Syndrome). When your a fat chick you can't just curl up in a ball on the floor like when you were 16. I even woke up in the trunk of a car once, curled around the beer cooler, and woke up fresh as a fuckin' daisy. Those days are so gone!

When I think back to all the places I woke up, I really know I have turned a corner. I may not yet be over the hill but I can definitely see the top, and there better be a Barcalounger ready for me when I get there, and a tank of oxygen.

Just bang your face on the phone keys, no worries, I'll pick up.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

She gives me her name and her number, then says, "Ya, I just need you to transfer me to E.machi.nes."

"Uh, this is the Undisclosed Computer Software Company™."

"Ya, I know. I have called before, let's just cut through the crap and transfer me."

Ok, it happens, she couldn't find the number; she remembers getting there from here before. "Did you want the number for E.machi.nes?"

"Look, I have had a long day, just transfer me."

Un-fucking-believable! She is speaking to me like this is my job. Like this is the Undisclosed Dumbass Fucking Crayon Idiot Backwater Hillbilly Switchboard Company™. 'Don't know the number for 411? Let us take over, so you can give your actual brain a rest.' (Hey, that is a catchy slogan.)

"I just thought that maybe you would like to save yourself some time. So next time you can call directly."

"I already have the number for E.machi.nes, just transfer me!"

Who the hell does this? What kind of a mindless fool calls one company to get transferred to another completely different company?

Maybe she is saving her brain for more important information like, I don’t know, breathe in, breathe out?

I decide to help the poor mindless creature out, with a little cultural enlightenment. I send her to Mean Machines, in Stockholm.

I am just doing my part to broaden her horizons and perhaps knock some sense into her. At the very least she perhaps will never try this shit again.

Picture it, Sicily....kidding.

I was working Saturday night, it was about 11:30pm. Consumer tech support closes at 7pm. Premier support is 24/7 so here I sit.

We are also still open for Pro support but only if your servers are down and your boss is ready to give it to you up the ass. To save you from this fate we now charge you double the going rate. People love this.

Anyway, this dude calls at 11:30pm. His name is Mike Lafiette.(this is important later)

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

"I bought your crappy software."

Your going to have to be more specific. "Which crappy software are you refering to?"

"Fli.gt Sim 2002. It is crap and I want you to send me a new disk." It's crap, but he wants to replace it.

"Sorry sir, that department is closed. How long have you had it?"

"Three years."

"Then I doubt you can get your money back for it."

"It is crap, I want you to send me a new disk."

"As I said, that department is closed, and I don't think you can even get that disk from us anymore. It is out of production. It is 4 years old and..."

He interrupts me to go on a tirade about going to the support, that is in India and they are making everything worse, and Bill sucks and he is a money grubber and doesn't support his software and on and on and on.

I try and explain to him that the consumer support is closed, so is the replacement desk and so on and so forth.

"What the hell are you doing there then?"

"I am a technical router for developer products and premier customers."

"THAT'S CUSTOMER TEIRING AND IT IS ILLEGAL!"

"It's not teiring, if you need tech support at any hour, you pay for it."

"Look, if you wanted to you could give me a disk."

"No really, sir, I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Just go down the hall and get me one."

"Sir I am in Nova Scotia..."

"A FUCKIN' CANADIAN. Now I get it.....you won't help me cuz I'm French."

"How would I know you were French?"

"With a name like Lafiette?" I had forgotten his name. "All you Canadians hate the french."

"Sir, we don't hate the French, we hate the French Canadians, there's a difference." I was growing weary of being civil to him.

"Look, this disk is fucked and I want another one."

"What makes you think it is defective."

"Well I install the Fli.ght Sim and it works for about a month and then it craps out and I have to reinstall."

"Well then there is nothing wrong with the disk, it installs properly."

"I want help with this then."

"As I said, that department is closed, only professional support is open..."

"This says Fli.ght Sim PROFESSIONAL."

"It's still just a game, Sir."

"What if I told you that I use this to train pilots."

"I would say 'thanks for the heads up, I will never fly again'."

This is where he lost his mind and I decided to have a 'phone malfunction'.

They just don't pay me enough.

Please release me, let me go.

If you remember, a while back I had a meeting with my MO regarding my happiness within the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™™. In that meeting, among other things, I suggested that I might be happier in another project. Namely tech support.

A couple of the techs that were yanked into our project have been lamenting for almost a year about how great it was 'over there'. How much better the management treated them 'over there' so much so that I was forever telling them to build a bridge and get the fuck over it. They made it sound like a whole other world. Thanks, I really need to hear that my misery is that much more profound because bliss exists under the same roof.

Fast forward to last week. The big giant heads send out an email. They are going to finally release some people from our tech router project to go back to tech support where they were blissfully happy. They are going to finally hire more tech routers so this can be accomplished.

Great. Maybe this means I can also get released as well? I have to try, what is the worst that could happen? Ya right. I get a polite email that says they are only releasing to tech support those who were already there before. Hopes dashed.

Then I get an email from the MO. "Come and see me."

What the hell did I do now? I don't remember telling any manager to bite me lately. Or did I? I am wracking my brain the whole way to her cube. I was teasing my TM about sounding like a 976 operator on the phone the other night. He wouldn't, would he? The weasel!

Turns out it was my lucky day. She said she couldn't tell me in the email the other day before she ran it by the big giant head of tech support but she is replacing me in this round and sending me back to Pro support. She said that training for tech didn't start till the end of July and if she waited till then, she wouldn't be able to release me.

Since Pro is a bigger project, (meaning more agents) I can more easily be replaced, so releasing me will not be an issue.

Holy crap, and it isn't even my birthday. So, she wraps up the meeting with, "So, does this make you happy?"

Happy as a pig in shit.

Happy Mother's Day.

The boy spent all day Saturday raking top soil and mowed his father's lawn.

On Mother's Day he presented me with twenty-five dollars. Cold hard cash. We went out for pizza.

Ok, so he didn't actually buy me anything, but I think we are making progress.

A teenage boy thing.

Why must teenage boy things treat their mothers like dirt? I give him everything I never had. I work hard (ok, maybe not hard but long) to support him. To have the internet and the cable and the cell phone. Not to mention the video games, guitar, skateboards etc, etc. Sometimes he looks at me like I am something he scraped off his shoe. He talks to me like I am a stranger. Hell, I doubt he would talk to strangers the way he speaks to me.

When I was a teenager, I wouldn't say shit to my mother if I had a mouthful of it. Sure, I might mumble under my breath but that was the extent of it. And does anyone remember talking back? You just didn't do it. You would get the back of her hand, and deserve it. Raise your hand now to the little shit who just told you to fuck off and what do you get? Child Protective Services, that's what.

Don't get me wrong, I think there is a need for services such as that, but I also know that there are abusers on both ends. Kids today are evil creatures, they use the obsession with political correctness against the people who are obligated to feed and clothe them. How did 'you can't beat the living shit out of your kid and burn him with cigarettes' become 'you can't discipline your child at all'?

Don't you find that with anything, there is no happy medium? First you can't torture and kill animals for fur coats, now you can't kill a chicken before he gets the chance to experience air conditioning and digital cable. It's one extreme to another.

How about 'zero tolerance' in schools for bullies. Sounds good. Do you know what that turned into? No snowball fights. All they needed was a little supervision in the school yard, did they get it? No. This doesn't even stop bullying, it just stops the good kids from fighting back because they don't want to get expelled right along with the kid who is terrorizing them. And the bullies know what they are doing, it hasn't stopped them. They know how to get around it, they punch you in the face and walk away, takes a few seconds, there is no one there to see it.

Sexual harassment laws taken to the extreme, means no five year olds professing their love for little blond haired girls. Charlie Brown would be in the pokey for stalking if he were a real boy.

But I digress.

A friend of mine has a teenage girl thing we will call The Lump. She is 16. She informed her mother in the midst of one of their knock down, drag out fights that all this abuse was foretold.

My friend was very upset at the treatment she was getting from her once sweet little girl. The Lump looks at her like she can't believe she is upset and says, "I don't know why you are so upset now. You knew when you were pregnant with me that between the ages of 16 and 18 I would hate you."

Where do teenagers get this shit?

I blame Oprah.

I kid you not.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

"I just bought a new computer and I can't get on the internet."

"Who is your internet service provider?"

"What is that?" Sigh, the internet is not free and I am not magic.

"I just got a new laptop, it says it is equipped with wireless internet, but I can't connect wirelessly."

"What type of router are you using?"

"Huh?" She does not have a wireless router. I try to explain to her that her laptop has to get a signal from something that is hardwired, before it can send a wireless signal to her laptop. This takes about 10 minutes and I am not convinced she gets it.

"I can't seem to open up my Netscape."

"Have you thought about calling Netscape at all?"

"Huh?"

"I don't have my contract number, can you look it up under my company?"

"No, sorry."

"Why not?

"Well, anyone could call up and say they are from Gen.era.l Mot.ors, pretty sure they would have a contract with us."

"But what if I really was from Gen.era.l Mot.ors?"

"Then you would have the contract number."

"Ya, I was just talking to Amanda and the phone went dead."

"Did you have a case number?"

"No, but can you just transfer me back to Amanda?"

"Uh, there are more than a few Amanda's here." Hell, you can't swing a cat in here without hitting one.

"She said she was in Las Colinas if that helps." With 62,000 employees world wide, I am pretty sure I could not find this guys Amanda.

Ya sure, it's just me answering the phones and Amanda taking the tech calls. Oh, and the janitor, Gerry.

"Ya, one of your sites are down."

"Which one?"

"E bay dot com."

"That's not our site, sir. I can get you a number though..."

"What do you mean it's not your site. It's on the internet."

"Sir, this is the Undisclosed Computer Software Company™, we..." He cuts me off again.

"YOU ARE THE INTERNET!" Holy crap, are people really that thick?

SO YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?

-A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.
-A cat has 32 muscles in each ear.
-A crocodile cannot stick out its tongue.
-A dragonfly has a life span of 24 hours.
-A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds!
-A "jiffy" is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second.
-A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes.
-A snail can sleep for three years.
-Al Capone's business card said he was a used furniture dealer.
-Almonds are a member of the peach family.
-An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.
-Babies are born without kneecaps. They don't appear until the child reaches 2 to 6 years of age.
-Butterflies taste with their feet.
-Cats have over one hundred vocal sounds. Dogs only have about 10.
-"Dreamt" is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt".
-February 1865 is the only month in recorded history not to have a full moon.
-In the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated.
-If the population of China walked past you, in single file, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction.
-Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors.
-No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.
-On a Canadian two dollar bill, the flag flying over the Parliament building is an American flag.
-Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.
-Peanuts are one of the ingredients of dynamite.
-Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated.
-"Stewardesses" is the longest word typed with only the left hand and "Lollipop" with your right.
-The average person's left hand does 56% of the typing.
-The cruise liner, QE2, moves only six inches for each gallon of diesel that it burns.
-The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket.
-The sentence: "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" uses every letter of the alphabet.
-The winter of 1932 was so cold that Niagara Falls froze completely solid.
-The words 'racecar,' 'kayak' and 'level' are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).
-There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar.
-There are more chickens than people in the world.
-There are only four words in the English language which end in "dous": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.
-There are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order: "abstemious" and "facetious."
-There's no Betty Rubble in the Flintstones Chewable Vitamins.
-Tigers have striped skin, not just striped fur.
-TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.
-Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance.
-Women blink nearly twice as much as men.
-Your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucus every two weeks; otherwise it will digest itself.

Now you know everything!

It has been how long?

Does anyone outside New York realize that nothing is happening at Ground Zero.

WTF? It has been 5 years. Basically all they have done so far is cart away the debris.

I just got finished watching Penn & Teller: Bullshit. They were talking about the bullshit surrounding the rebuilding of the 9/11 site. I was shocked. If you haven't seen the program, you should try and catch it.

The Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, headed by Governor George E. Pataki, has dropped the ball more than once on this project.

Remember the competition to design the new structure? The unveiling was impressive. One small problem. The structure was not structurally sound. Couldn't be done.

So they brought in another architect to work with the winner to make it less of a deathtrap. Yeah, they unveiled that too....nice, except they didn't bother to consult anyone on safety. The cops tell them it is too close to the road and anyone with an 18 wheeler could mosey on by and blow it to smithereens.

And then there is the memorial part of the 'park'. Throughout it all they don't bother to consult the families of the people who actually died there. Their brilliant plan puts the memorial underground. Nice, two gaping holes filled with water and the memorial under it. Just what they would want, to be buried....again.

The LMDC has a webcam setup so you can see the progress. I don't think they really thought this through. If you look at the last 30 days, all the pictures are identical. There is nothing going on, it is abandoned.

What the hell is this Pataki guy doing in charge of this project? He's a politician, has he ever built anything in his life bigger than a sand castle? I say, call the Donald, get the old plans for the twin towers, beef up the security and voila, he could have it up in a couple of months.

If I was an American, I would be completely appalled at this. Hell, I am Canadian, and I am appalled.

I swear, I didn't do it!

While surfing some business related blogs who talk about customer service, I was reminded of a particular problem we have at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™™.

We offer free virus support. No matter what AV software you are running, no matter where you got your computer or how you obtained your software.

Some people phone us the second they think they might have a virus. Some after their AV software tells them they have one, and that it can't remove it. They rarely think of calling the company whom they pay for virus protection software. It never crosses their mind.

"Ya, 'MARTIN' says it found a virus and it can't delete it."

"Have you thought about calling MARTIN?"

"They want $39.99 per minute to work on it."

"They want you to pay them to remove the virus that you paid them to keep off your computer?"

"Sounds worse when you say it out loud."

"Well, the first thing I would suggest is that you stop paying them. I will set you up with a case and get you to support who will help you get rid of this and recommend a few security programs that are free for download off the internet"

"Free for download? How good are they?"

"Well at least if they let a virus through, you didn't pay them for the privilege."

Some people at this point 'get' that we are just trying to help. Others come away with the mistaken impression that we are fixing something we are responsible for in the first place. Since they got the virus on the internet and we 'are' the internet.

The Big Giant Head may have had a hand in making the internet available to the masses, but that still doesn't make 'us' the internet.

Most people do not understand that we are a software company, we don't make hardware. They don't understand the difference. When they start their computer it says 'Undisclosed Computer Software Company™™' so we must be the makers of their computer. Ergo, anything that goes wrong with it, including smoke from the monitor, is our problem. SO FIX IT!

By providing a service that fixes the screw up of another company, I am not sure we are doing such a great service to ourselves. Most customers think it is our fault to begin with and are less than greatful.

I guess that is why, after all these years, the Undisclosed Computer Software Company™™ is getting into the AntiVirus business. If we are going to fix it, we might as well be the ones who actually broke it.

Just for fun.

What song was #1 on the charts on the day you were born?

You think maybe it says something about how you turned out? Your theme song, perhaps?

Mine is Get Off My Cloud - The Rolling Stones.

This might explain those two years I spent in the ninth grade, but my theme song?

Try it for yourself. Let me know how it turned out.

I am going to need therapy after this one.

Picture it, Sicily, 1929.... no wait, that's another show.

Picture it, Weird Office Guy, standing in front of the open microwave.

He takes his nuked dinner out, places it on the counter. He is about to close the door when something attracts his attention. He is mesmerized by the contents of the microwave. He stands, slack-jawed, contemplating his dilemma.

I watch in horror as he reaches in, runs his fingers across the plate inside and jams whatever it is IN HIS MOUTH! He repeats this process until he is satisfied that whatever he has spilled in there is cleaned up.

Howie Mandel would drop dead.

The children are our future.

Observed at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™.

"Quick, Ami, look right!" Ami responds by promptly whipping her head around to the left. I start to chuckle.

"What?"

"You looked left."

"Really?" Then (I kid you not) she raised both hands in front of her face making L shapes with her thumb and forefinger. (Allow the boy to demonstrate.)



She studies her fingers intently, "Huh, your right."

"On my planet, we can distinguish right and left without the use of sign language."

This sparks a disturbing discussion on righty tighty, lefty loosey and how to tell how many days are in a month by figuring out which knuckle it corresponds to.

The knuckle thing was one I hadn't heard before, so, not being able to pass up an opportunity to ridicule a superior, I asked one of the TM's. "How many days in July?"

He looked at me for a second, perplexed, then made a fist and proceeded to count it out on his knuckles, which was met with laughter from the team.

"So, that's why I can't get a TM job. I don't know the knuckle thing."

Weird Office Guy

Every office has one and the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ is no different.

I wish I had a picture of this guy, but I will try to describe him as best I can.

He is tall, overweight, receding hairline with curly hair. He has coke bottle glasses and wears golf shirts with track pants and a belt. I know this because the belt is clearly 8 feet long because (since there are no loops in track pants) the tail of it hangs down between his legs like a dick. As I mentioned he is overweight and walks like he is pregnant, only somehow he does this on his tip toes. Getting the picture yet?

Here comes the gross part. Like every lame-ass company the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ has employee of the month celebrations (you guessed it) every month. With cake! Me and the rest of the smokers sit outside and watch this spectacle through the glass doors that separate the clean from the unclean.

On one such occasion I witnessed WOG, oblivious of what was going on around him walk past the Big Giant Head, who was expounding the virtues of our recent nominees and parked himself in front of the two enormous cakes that sat waiting to be enjoyed by the masses.

He stood there, stomach out, leather dick swinging in the breeze, seeming to contemplate the confection. Then he did something that made my blood run cold.

Oblivious to the ceremony going on around him, he reached out and ran two chubby little fingers the full length of the first cake, leaving a noticeable tack of bare cake, raised his fingers triumphantly he jammed the icing into is fat little pie hole.

JESUS H CHRIST!

What the hell is this social retard doing? Why isn't the Big Giant Head seeing this? I waited for him to make a fast get away. After all he had just grossed out most of the people in the room, or would once they realized what he had done. He will have to get out fast before he is detected by someone other than me, who can do nothing from behind the glass. I wait for him to bolt but he doesn't. Instead, he sucks his fingers clean and heads for the second cake.

As I try and keep my breakfast down he repeats his assault on the second cake, and nonchalantly waddles away. But he doesn't leave. He sits back and waits for the idiots to cut the cake and then walks away with three pieces.

The moral of this story is: Never eat from the community cake. You really don't know where that cake has been or what indignities have befallen it.

I go green as I realize how many times I have jammed that cake into my own pie hole. And I don't even want to think about what he does on natcho day.

As promised, the TV story.

Short back story. My sister left her husband. Got a boyfriend, moved him in. Left for India, broke up with boyfriend. Comes back from India, gets back with husband.

Now she has to get rid of boyfriends stuff. Namely a huge flatscreen TV.

I go to visit her one night and she asks me to deliver the TV. I agree and the TV gets put into the backseat of my car,(not by me) I notice it is broken. Looks like the cable was ripped from the back of it. Nice. "Uh, the TV is broken. Maybe he doesn't want it back?" She will find out where his is living and call me with instructions.

A week later, the TV is still in the backseat of the car. Why, you ask? Because it is a huge TV and I don't think I can lift it. And even if I do, where would I lift it to? I live on the second floor, I am not carrying that monstrosity up the stairs into my apartment only to carry it back down when my sister figures out what to do with it.

So, after a week, the landlord is here and I ask him to put it in the barn. He and his friend carry it into the barn. Can't ruin it since it is already broken. No sooner is this done and the landlord is gone, but I get a call from the sister. Seems the boyfriend does not want the tv back. Great.

"So, do you want to buy it from me?"

"What?"

"You were going to get a new TV, you want to buy that one from me?"

"You want me to buy the free broken TV?"

"Ya." Remember this is my sister talking.

"The TV you essentially got for nothing, then broke. You want me to buy that TV?"

"Ya, well I got bills that I need to pay."

So, I forget that we are sisters, (since she clearly has) and we agree that if it can be fixed, I will buy it. It is a really good deal if it can be fixed. "How much do you want for it?"

"How much were you going to pay for a new one?"

"One Fifty."

"Cool"

So, I take it to be fixed. Eighty Three dollars and ninety cents later, I have a new TV.



Here's where the injury comes in. This is a huge tv (not even sure how big), and I haven't had a tv in the living room that works properly for a long time. Add to that that this one has SVideo so I can hook it up to the computer and watch my movies, so I want it in the house as soon as possible. No time to wait for someone to help. I carry this monster up two flights of stairs and I hear something crack. Its not the tv.

But hey, I spent the whole day and night flat on my back watching my new tv.

And another thing...

The reason I am in the wrong business, the bill for the tv reads like this:

Shop supplies - $6.00
RCA type terminal - $6.95
LABOUR - $60.00
Total after tax - $83.90

It is important to note that I dropped the TV off at 1pm and he called me to pick it up at 3pm. I am not stupid and I figure it wasn't the only thing he was working on and he didn't bump me to the front of the line just because I am so cute. I figure it took him maybe half an hour to fix it. And if he couldn't fix it he still gets to keep the $20 deposit I left, just for looking at it.

Maybe I need to look into a career in electronics repair.

Who goes there?

I have had a visitor or two during the night.



Wonder who it could be?

This is a long one, brace yourself.

This is a really long story, but I will try and keep it brief. I have been having some issues at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. Mostly with authority, or lack thereof.

As you may or may not be able to imagine from my writings. I am not the most conforming creature on the planet. I am a good worker and I enjoy my job. That being said, here is my problem. I have no patience for idiocy. I have no problem obeying the rules of the road as long as the reason for that rule is not 'cuz I said'. I know I am not really explaining this well and without getting into specifics I guess I can't.

Suffice to say, they have some pretty screwed up rules at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. Not where it applies to how you actually deliver customer service, but how you are gauged against your peers as far as job performance metrics are concerned. Does that make sense?

For instance, I could be on a difficult call, someone developing an app for a website, using a specific programming language, affecting the OS and the office products with a really weird error message. It could be the code, it could be the app it could be the OS or the combination of all, or something completely different that the customer hasn't even thought of.

I have to figure out where the real problem lies. All of this and he can't find his contract number, so now I have to also track down his account manager and get authorization for the case at 10:30 on a Saturday night. Twenty minutes later, I am conferencing in the only tech on the planet that has seen this before and has a solution. The customer is beside himself thanking me for my help. His job is saved, the website will be up and running. Everyone is happy, right?

Wrong. I get the call coach for that call and I fail because I didn't say his name enough. I kid you not. There is a number, they won't tell us that number but there is one. You're on a call this long, you say his name this many times. WTF? They tell us if we get 'meets expectations' on every one of the tool's sections, our score is 3, a pass on the call. Great. But then they say in order to get a raise, you have to be 3.17. Then they can't figure out why this might upset people. So, of course I voice my opinion and basically tell my TM he is an idiot and promptly get a professionalism letter added to my file.

This is just one of the things that frustrates all of us at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. We know we are doing our job, and going even that extra mile to make sure our customers speak to the right tech the first time, every time. However, the TM's have a little list that they tick off and some of them don't even take into account how the overall call went.

Everyone is complaining, I am just the loudest one. Another TM tried to explain the stupid logic behind the process and I gave him the hand. Stopped him from talking and said, "Ya know what? I just don't give a shit."

Next thing you know I get an email from the MO, requesting a meeting. Friday at 5pm. Don't they fire people on Fridays?

So, I am not in on Thursday (I hurt myself moving a tv, tell ya that story later) and on Friday I am prepared. I park at the front of the building just in case the MO wants to swipe me out of the building I don't have to walk past everyone. I am hopped up on pain medication so I am surprisingly calm. I walk into her office cube and I was blown away. She spent about 30 seconds commenting on my attitude then it took a bizarre turn.

I won't bore you with the details but she said stuff like, "When your happy, everyone is happy. What can we do to make you happy?" and "If you going to be a team manager..."

She tells me that I have the ability to influence those around me, and that when I feel like the TM's are not listening to me or giving me the right information to just not bother with them and come straight to her.

I can't let an invitation like that go so I start in on my tirade. Tell her everything that is bothering me about everything. I let her know how everyone is feeling. That no one even thinks they will ever get a raise again. On and on and on, she is typing feverishly through the whole thing.

Then she turns to me and says. "This information that you have is totally false. 95% of your group is getting raises, and 10% of those are getting the highest raise."

"There is a problem then, because your information is NOT getting translated properly to us."

Bottom line: I need to stop getting so upset over bad information from the lower management. It's not that they are giving false info. They just aren't explaining themselves very well. I can deal with that.

The better part of an hour goes by and we are laughing as we leave her cube. I look across the floor and see my team, all standing up watching for me. I laugh. They were worried or hoping that I got the sack. Depending on whom you ask.

As I take my place with my team, I walk by the TM who is responsible for getting that meeting for me. I am practically giddy, pat him on the back and in my best 'children's tv host' voice say, "Hey, TM, how is your day going?"

I really love my job.

TBF's idea of a family outing.

The boy discovered a while back that one particular soda machine outside Walmart has a defect.

You put a toonie (two dollars for you yanks in the audience) in the slot, push the button repeatedly like mad and 4 or 5 cans of pop will come out as well as change for one can.

The Boy's Father thinks this is an appropriate Sunday Night activity. He picks up the boy and they see how many cans they can get for ten bucks.

Ward Cleaver, he ain't.

Wanted.

Will Trade: One red paper clip for a house.

How cool is this idea? Man starts with one red paperclip and through a series of trades, he hopes to end up with a house.

So far he has traded:

Paperclip for a fish pen.
Fish pen for a door knob.
Door knob for a Coleman stove.
Coleman stove for a generator.
Generator for an instant party. Which included: one beer keg,one neon Budweiser sign and one I.O.U. for a kegÂ’s worth of beer.
Instant party for a skidoo.
Skidoo for a trip to yahk.
Trip to Yahk for a cube van.
Cube van for a recording contract.
Recording contract for one year rent free in Pheonix.

And the offers keep pouring in. Go check out where he is at now.

This is so crazy it just might work.

Scarred for life?

The boy found my sisters stash in the closet. He comes out of my bedroom holding a can of whipped cream and sprinkles, clearly marked 'body desert topping'.

Remembering the fun I had with the condom wrapper, I was ready for him.

"What the hell is this?"

"What does it look like?"

"Why do YOU have it?"

"Well, if you really want to know..."

He drops it and runs from the room with his hands over his ears.

Could have been worse, he could have found an empty can.

His therapy bill is going to be astronomical. Money well spent.

Hello? Is this thing on?

The boy's father (TB'sF)called me Wednesday as I was pulling into the school to pick up the boy.

"Hello?" Nothing.

"Ya, what size are the boys feet?" No, hello, no nothing, just straight to the feet.

"Um... if this is some sort of pedophile with a foot fetish I'm gonna have to hang up."

"Funny, what size are the boys feet?" He is getting irritated and I am enjoying it.

"Oh, TB'sF. Hi and how are you?"

"Are you going to tell me what size boys feet are?"

"I am fine thanks for asking.....and I don't know. Why don't you wait the three minutes it takes for the boy to get out of school and ask him yourself?"

"Call me back."

It is always fun chatting with the boy's father, he starts conversations with stuff like "Ya, you should feed the boy carrots." No explanation or hello, just "The boy should brush his teeth at night?" The boy was twelve by the time TB'sF came up with that little pearl of wisdom.

It takes a second for you to realize it is TB'sF, but then you think no one else is retarded enough to start a conversation that way.

Anyway, the boy gets in the car and I hand him the phone. "Guess your getting sneakers for Easter. Surprise!"

This is the boys entire side of the conversation:

"Hey."

"Eight."

"K"

He gets that from his fathers side of the family.

We are half way home and he says, "Hope he doesn't get me the same ones he got me last year, they sucked."

"Did you tell him you didn't like those ones?"

"No." Of course not, that would make sense.

"Then your getting the same ones."

"Aw man."

"Well why didn't you tell him you didn't like the last ones?"

"I can't tell Dad when I don't like things."

"Really, you have no problem turning your nose up at anything I buy you."

Then he looks at me, all serious like, "But Mom, you and I have a different sort of relationship."

"Ya, I spend all my money on you and you shit on me. Works out great."

He'll be sorry when I am dead.

Better late than never.

I saw this somewhere, sorry can't remember where. I thought it was a fun idea, but I couldn't (until now) figure out how to put the stupid media player on shuffle.

Brain fart. But I did manage to link to the lyrics, so there.

So here goes. First the obligatory instructions. Give it a shot if you are a smart ass and already know how to put MP on shuffle.

Go to the music player of your choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud and press play. Use the song titles as your answers. NO CHEATING!

1 - How does the world see me?
Song: Going out of my mind.
Artist: McBride and the Ride.
Ok, I do have to consciously work on my mental health. I know this about myself.

2 - Will I have a happy life?
Song: Homewrecker
Artist: Gretchen Wilson
Interesting. Gay Robbie (not to be confused with Rob the Slob) asked me the other night, "Do you have a husband?" I said, "Ya, sure. He's just not mine." Long story.

3 - What do my friends really think of me?
Song: I love this bar
Artist: Toby Keith
I don't do bars, but I guess I get pretty set in my ways. I complain about the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™, but I guess you could call it my bar. It is where I do most of my socializing.

4 - Do people secretly lust after me?
Song: Cheatin'
Artist: Sara Evans
Great, just married men. Nice.

5 - How can I make myself happy?
Song: Crazy
Artist: Aerosmith
So, does this mean I shouldn't try so hard to maintain my mental health?

6 - What should I do with my life?
Song: Bohemian Rhapsody
Artist: Queen
"Easy come easy go...anyway the wind blows doesn't really matter to me." One of those pigeons shits on my head and I might be saying, "Momma, just killed a man." Inside joke.

7 - Why should life be full of so much pain?
Song: Paint me a Birmingham
Artist: Tracey Lawrence
Life is pain, get over it.

8 - How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
Song: Rose Colored Glasses
Artist: John Conlee
What the hell does that mean? This is just getting weird. But I guess that is your answer.......to maximize your pleasure....pretend your with someone else. Ya, someone better.

9 - Will I ever have children?
Song: I'm Gonna Miss Her.
Artist: Brad Paisley
Another weird one, I have one, only because I don't want two. So I guess I will never have 'children' plural. It could mean, that no, I will not have children. Since Aunt Flo has left the building, but I don't miss her.

10 - Will I die happy?
Song: Better Things to Do
Artist: Terry Clark
Who the hell dies happy. Shouldn't the fact that you are dead piss you off? I got better things to do than worry about being happy when I am dead.

11 - What is some good advice for me?
Song: Starry Starry Night
Artist: Josh Groban
Don't cut your ear off for a chick. Very good advice.

12 - What is happiness?
Song: Millie and Billie
Artist: Alice Cooper
I have often thought. Had I just killed the boys father when I wanted to, I would be out of prison by now. Karla Holmoka only got 12 years.

13 - What is my favorite fetish?
Song: Get off of my Cloud
Artist: Rolling Stones
Ah, drugs. Always a good fetish to have. What the fuck is a fetish anyway?

14 - How will I be remembered?
Song: I See it Now
Artist: Tracey Lawrence
When the boy was little, this was our song. So maybe, after I am worm meat, he will hear the song and remember me.

I know what your thinking, "What is up with that fuckin' playlist?" Hey, there is a theme. I think? Is there?

Why not give it a hook yourself. Let me know how it turns out.

What was he thinking?

Chris Daughtry, contestant on American Idol. He is a rocker, the rocker, even when he is singing Manilow.

So I figure when he got the songbook for Queen, he creamed in his jeans. This is it baby, it's all you, these are your people.

So, what does he do? Loses his fucking mind, that's what. He decides to sing Innuendo.

Innu-fuckin-endo!

What? You have never heard of it? Maybe because Queen has never performed it live.

Why hasn't Queen ever performed this song live?

Because the song sucks out loud!

What the fuck is wrong with this kid?

It's Queen.

Say it with me, IT'S QUEEN!

Dozens of really great songs, and you pick Innuendo? You could have wrapped this shit up!

They need to send your ass home, just for being a fucking retard!

I am upset, does it show?

Fuck the meaning of life. I want to know...

How come soda in cans never goes flat?

Ugly Americans!

Since all the trouble in India, the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ has been swamped with some people waiting half an hour on hold just to talk to a customer service agent.

Last night, the TM asked if we (the tech routers) would mind helping the CC agents close the queue. A simple enough thing to do, no cases, no transfers just let them know that we are now closed.

I sign in. 44 people on hold and 4 agents, counting me. Round 'em up and ship 'em out.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

He starts out, clearly peturbed. "I was just on hold for 20 min and they hung up on me. I have a case already."

"I am sorry sir, but technical support is now closed, what time zone are you in?"

"What?"

"You will have to call back in the morning, what time zone are you in."

I hear him relay this to his wife/girlfriend banshee, "WHAT THE HELL? Give me that fucking phone!"

The banshee takes the phone, "Listen here, we have been waiting for 20 min, then we get hung up on. I have paid my money I want support! You will transfer me right fucking now!"

I try to explain to her that there is nothing I can do, once the tech queue is closed I can't transfer. If I try she would only get bounced through customer service again.

"THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

She puts the man back on the phone. "I paid money for support and I am not getting it, what kind of a sham are you people running?"

I love it when they say 'you people', "Well sir, our sister site in India is down due to civil unrest so we are working with only 20% staff. We are doing the best we can."

"Fine, I don't want to go to India anyway, give me an American." He has Win98 there is nowhere to go but India. I explain that it is impossible, the queues are closed.

I offer to refund his money and as I am doing that, I am filling air by trying to explain to him why the last couple of days has been so busy. You know, chatting. Big mistake.

"You closed down a whole fucking country? Did the donkey die?"

"Ah sir, a beloved national figure passed away and they are in mourning."

"I don't give a fuck, that's your fault for outsourcing!"

< CLICK >

Ooops! Did I do that?

I realize that the rest of the free world finds this ridiculous and from a distance I suppose it is. But when someone tells you that someone else is dead the correct response is not 'I don't give a fuck'.

They call them 'ugly Americans' for a reason.

Butterfly Effect.

The Undisclosed Customer Service Center™™ is being swamped with calls. The Big Giant Head has sent a memo. The primary site is experiencing 'civil unrest'. (the BGH often sends out cryptic messages, not realizing that we are perfectly capable of finding out what the hell he is talking about)

Good Lord! Concerned faces everywhere, whatever could it be?

"Using loudspeakers, they appealed to people to maintain peace and shut down commercial and other establishments."

"The city police were forced to make elaborate arrangements to maintain law and order ..."

For a second there I thought it might be something stupid, like, earthquakes, tsunami or, I don't know, war.

I get it. You loved him. But do you have to shut down the entire city?

Say 'elo to ma li'l friend.

Thanks to Radmilla, I am now addicted to pastries.

Go ahead and poke him, you know you want to.

Bon Voyage, Judith.

I get up this morning. (ok, it was more like noon) I figured I would give them the benefit of the doubt and assume someone took care of our scheduling problem.

Ya, right. What the hell was I thinking?

So, I go to work on any TM that is on messenger. Bitching and moaning, trying to kick start someone. Here is a conversation with one of the TM's.

ME: did anyone try and get someone else to work tonight?
TM: else?
TM: what is the problem
ME: its just me and Judith scheduled
ME: oh, and Brian
TM: brian and marc
ME: really? would that be the same brian who has been in the hospital for the past month
TM: lol
ME: wait a minute....mark who?
ME: oh, you mean the other person who has been off sick for the past month?
ME: and its judiths last night, so that leaves just me next weekend? anyone doing ANYTHING about that?
TM: i'll look into to
TM: but there were only 3 scheduled for tonight to begin with
TM: jennifer is on, she can take calls with you (she is another TM)
ME: has jennifer ever taken a call before? are there any pro's on tonight?
TM: nope
TM: none
TM: all day
TM: just in india
ME: do they really wonder why morale is low?
ME: does this not seem wrong to you in any way? or is it just because it is me saying it?
ME: is anyone going to do anything before next week when it is JUST me?
ME: I will tell you what.......if it is not fixed next week, and you think it's going to be JUST me? I WILL be sick. I feel a fever coming on right now.

I think the vision of having to call in TM's to strap on their fucking headsets to take calls has inspired him.

"I will see what I can do." Much better than 'I'll look into it.'

Well, when I got in there, TM was there to greet me.

Expecting the worst, I ask, "So, how did you make out?"

"The two guys in workforce management have been fired."

Holy shit! He is good. Wait a min...he's not that good."Really?"

"No, not really. But I did get one person to come in tonight and I am working on a couple more." He is very proud of himself for making a funny.

Great, now I can go have my coffee and not worry. As I leave, I throw this over my shoulder. "I know you can do it, TM, I have faith in you."

"You do?" He is stunned.

I can't maintain the sincerity, "Uh, ya. Whatever gets 'er done."

And he did come through. With two people. So Judith and I were not swamped all night. We actually had a pretty good night. As TM left for the evening he came over for his pat on the head.

"I have to say, TM, that I am actually impressed. I appreciate what you did. Good job."

"Your being sarcastic."

"No, I am genuinely impressed. You were not the only TM that I harassed today, but you are the only one who got off their ass and did something. I appreciate it."

And I meant it.

So, Judith and I finally get out of there and as we are leaving, one of the TM's says, "Good luck, Judith, hope to see you back here again."

I couldn't resist a reply, in my best tortured voice, "OH,MY GAWD! How could you say such a thing to her? Why don't you just kick her dog on the way out!"

Thank you, I am here all week. Tip your waitress.

A fine farewell.

So, we are all sitting around last night at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™, saying goodbye to Judith, who is moving back home to England. She and I will be working Saturday night, but for the others in our regular group, it is their last chance.

As is customary on Friday night, we ask who will be working on Saturday. Here's where the kick in the teeth comes from. Not one person replies.

It can't be just Judith and I holding down the entire fort, can it? That's a fine send off, not to mention how much that would piss me off. And, after all, it is all about me. But this time, its about Judith as well.

I immediately track down a TM. "Let me check for you. Hmmmm, let's see.......You, Judith and Brian."

"Uh, Brian?" I am trying to jog her memory and make her realize how bazaar that sounds.

"Ya, the three of you." Giving me that 'see, it's not so bad' look.

"Bri - an?" Trying again ... nothing. "The same Brian who has been in the hospital for the past month? That Brian?"

"Oh!" LIGHT BULB! But she still gives me a blank look. She is not moving. Why isn't she moving? In my world, people should be on the horn, rectifying this situation immediately. There are people to call, people to email, things need to be done.

She is still not moving. "Uh, are you going to do something?" Still motionless. "Don't you think you need to call someone, email someone, get something done?"

"Like what?" I can see now why I did not get this job. I would completely fuck up the curve. It is so great here, absolutely no one has your back.

"I don't know. Call around, see if anyone is willing to work. Not that they would, but it is worth a try, don't you think?"

"I'll look into it." Translation - it does not effect me so I will push these papers around and look busy while I disregard your predicament.

"Could you look into it before next weekend. When it will be just me?"

I go back and tell Judith the good news.

"Looks like it is just you and me. Aren't you sorry your giving all this up?"

Review of the reviewers.

I was having a discussion with a friend over site traffic. Every once in a while I like to jump out there and see if I can get someone new to visit my site. After much discussion, he suggested I check out I talk too much.

The site offers "a loving review. If you are weak of heart or get upset easily don't bother. " Hey, that's me. So, I submit my site.

This was my review:

Plain template, fugly sidebar (including a FUCKING CLOCK, “local news” and 2, count them, 2 blogrolls), too many little pictures, boring writing and awful grammar (I was skimming and saw the post titled: “Just because your paranoid does not mean people are not out to get you.” and stopped reading. One of my biggest fucking peeves is using “your” when it should be “you’re” - not to be the grammar police but it’s simple fucking rule, learn it, live it.)

Constructive criticism? I don’t think I could help.

I had to chuckle. Finally, took them long enough to get around to me and I agree with everything they say. I was going to put up the 'I Got Smacked' button, but they also have a thing about buttons. I don't want to provoke them any more than my atrocious grammar will.

As per my friends instructions, I commented on their review.

1 - I like simple templates, too much color makes my teeth ache.
2 - The clock as well as the ‘local news’ is for my sister (the technically challanged) in India.
3 - What’s a blogroll and how did I get two of them?
4 - I added the counter last month.
5 - If you ‘live’ the ‘your/you’re’ rule? You need to get out more.
6 - Every single day of a person’s life can not be facinating, I am jealous if your’s is.

But thanks for the imput.

(I throw in a misspelled word or two for good measure. Although I am sure bullet points and the use of 'your’s is' will cause them to faint dead away.)

Immediately, I see more traffic flowing by way of their site. So, all in all, a successful run at I talk too much. You all should try it.

Just in case they swing back around this way, I thought I might add my own review for them, or rather let them know (if they are interested) some things their friends won't tell them.

No one goes to your site for your direction on what's good and what is not out there in cyberspace. (We like what we like. We like to read about people's real lives, boring or not.) Nor do people submit their sites for 'review' because they want your expertise.

Hello, let's face it, judging from the Powerpuff Girls/Cartoon Charlie's Angels template and the obligatory cartoon avatars (which I am sure bares a striking resemblance to your actual person) we don't really expect that any Pulitzer prize winner's are dishing out the advice on your site. (I am sorry, I probably lost them with that run on sentence)

Mainly you talk about color and fonts. Lose 'your' minds over grammar while using words and phrases like 'smushed' and 'all smudged and shit'. You chastise people over how ugly the template is and thankfully you give a person a hope that one of your alternate templates are easier on the stomach. I wonder if you even scan the content? Hardly matters.

People go there for traffic. Plain and simple. There is more traffic generated by your bad reviews than from the good. I, personally, got 35 hits in one day alone. Thanks guys. I am definitely on the hunt for some more 'review' sites.

But hey, you serve your purpose and in the grand scheme of things, that's all anyone can hope for.

Untitled.

I was recently clicking around, reading random blogs. Then the blogs of people that comment on those blogs, seeing where it would take me. I open new tabs in Foxfire for each of the comment-ers to follow up on one by one.

I stumbled on a blog of an actual writer. Not just a blog writer, which everyone is. A real, honest-to-goodness, published on paper, writer.

I thought, great, this should be interesting. What I discovered is, no....it is not.

Writers write about writing.

Think about that for a second.

I can't even think about an analogy for it. There is no other profession in the world to compare it to. A singer only singing songs about singing songs? Barry Manilow sort of did that I guess, but imagine if that song were about singing the song instead of writing it.

So you see the pickle I got myself into. I close the boring 'I have been published once again' post and move on to the blogs of the comment-ers.

You know who comments on writer's blogs? You guessed it, other writers.

But hey, they can't all really write about writing, right? Well, yes they can. I will admit that there was one or two that actually wrote about their lives, but most of them just wrote about writing. And when they are not writing about writing, they are writing about reading about writing on another writer's blog.

My head hurts.

How can people who write books that actually engage and entertain, be so completely boring with their blogs? Maybe because no one is paying to read the blog, so why put anything interesting in it?

Guess you have to buy the book.

100% profit.

Just a little back story. About a year ago my brother's stepson, Bryan,(12) (who lives with him) expressed an interest in learning the guitar. The boy has two electric guitars so I suggested that he borrow one to see if he liked it. Long story short, he didn't do much with it, but my brother's other son, Dylan,(8)(who does not live with him) did. So, off it goes to Dylan's house and he proceeds to take lessons, the whole nine yards.

After a while I hear Dylan is doing very well. I ask if the volume drives my brother crazy. He says why would it, it's an acoustic guitar. WTF? Ok then, where is the boys guitar? Oh, he doesn't use it.

So the boy hears this and immediately wants it back. No problem, my brother will retrieve it. You know men, he forgets every single time he goes to pick up Dylan to ask for the guitar. I figure, never ask a man to do any job you want done right. I put my sister-in-law on it.

Now we are up to present day. My sister has arrived home from India, I call over to see how she is doing and to arrange to meet up tomorrow. My brother is there.

"Tell her I have something to tell her, I just don't know how."

"What the hell does that mean, put him on."

"Hey Sis, remember your favorite nephew?" I have seven nephews.

"Is this a trick? Ok, I pick Dylan."

"It's about the guitar." He is laughing.

"Great he has pulled a Townsend and broken it?"

"Worse." What could be worse?

"Just tell me!"

"He sold it." He is hysterical now. I start to laugh and the boy is not impressed with what he is hearing on my side of the conversation. It is a very expensive guitar.

"What? You can get it back though."

"Ya, you should have seen his face when I asked him for it. He told me he sold to Haley for twenty bucks."

"He is his father's son." My brother is the baby, the spoiled one.

"He said he can't get it back cuz he already spent the money." We are both in tears, laughing.

That boy is going to be one heck of an entrepreneur, or the head of a really lucrative pyramid scam one day.

I think I might be blacklisted.

My cousin, Jean, (who is incidentally Sonny the Geeks sister) is one of those 'keep in touch' kind of people. A week does not go by without an email. Mostly they detail her life, updates on what is going on with her and hers.

Today she sends me pictures of her 'kids'. Not real kids, in the sense that they are not the same species as her, but she considers them family.

I took one look at the pictures and thought, those are some ugly ass dogs. I couldn't possibly describe how ugly these dogs were, but I have to say they are not as ugly as the dog her mother had for 30 years. (ok, it didn't live for 30 years, it just looked like it) Her mother had a really ugly dog, Bowser.

For those of you who are of the age, there was an episode of Bewitched where Darren and Larry are describing a dog to one of their clients (a non-existent dog) and Samantha is in the other room trying to create it.

The client asks, "Long or short hair?" and each of them says the opposite thing and the dog ends up with long hair in the back and short in the front. You get the idea. That was her dog. I kid you not.

Jeans dogs are not 'that' ugly but they run a close second.



Faces only a mother could love.



Before I could stop myself, I was emailing her that those were the ugliest dogs I had ever seen, bar Bowser.

I think I might be off the mailing list.