Thursday, December 21, 2006

Making Calls...

If someone ever tries to call you by dialing your number using their calculator, you have permission to laugh very loudly and call them random insulting names.

I just witnessed that. I will say that I excluded the insulting names, but from here out, it's fair game.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Favorite SMTP Banners

Just some SMTP banners I have setup for customers in the past.
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Nummy Jibblets Cream Sauce v 8.18

The Fantastic Gravy Boat Experiment v818

The Chocolate Donut Conspiracy

Monday, December 11, 2006

Cracker...

According to the book "Freakenomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything" I have one of the 20 "Whitest" Girl Names.

The author is discussing the distinct difference between "white" and "black" names that are given to children since the 1970's. What i think is interesting is that some variation of Kaitlyn appears on the list four fucking times. FOUR times?? Dont feel so bad whitey....on the 20 "Blackest" Girl names there were four variations of Jasmine.

I guess what I take from all this is that, no matter what color your skin is, we still cant come up with an original name to save our lives. Either that or we cant spell for nothin!

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

My Bitch Cracks Skulls

While recently visiting the tiny town of Evergreen, while watching Non roll down the small hills next to the lake after taking a small walk around some of the wetlands, we take notice of three people walking towards us. Two of them, obviously observant of respect for property of other's, are not walking on the platform across the wetlands but rather on the handrails themselves. We naturally throw out a "What a douche bag" to make sure we verbalize to the world that we disagree with their actions. A few minutes later, they're a bit closer.

They are on the other side of the handrails now, ripping off some of the cattails growing in the wetlands. "What a douche bag."

They take the cattails and start whipping them around and throwing all of the fluffy goodness of the cattails all over the place. Oh what fun. "Douche bags." Two girls and one boy.

And then, out of nowhere, the ass hat male of the group decides that he needs a first hand view of the wetlands and jumps the entire handrail over into the wetlands.

Now, Bird sees this before I do. My head is turned the opposite direction and she is facing them. Like a Ninja she starts yelling at the guy. "You're not supposed to be in there! It's a fragile habitat." I kinda giggled at that internally, but she was right, get the fuck out. This guy is obviously well educated in the natural landscapes and habitats of the wetlands of Evergreen and what the potential impact he could have on the surrounding areas, because he promptly educated us by saying, "It's just grass."

Bird was pissed off instantly. She screamed back, "Oh that's ok, you're just a fucking idiot."

She's a delicate flower.

He jumps back across the fence, the two girls looking at us in disbelief, and he moves his hippy stoner haircut from in front of his eyes and sarcastically pipes, "Oh yeah, ya know, you're right." Bird says, "
Yeah, nice! Seafood salad!" I turned and looked at her with a "What the fuck?" look of, seafood salad? Actually, I don't remember what she said then, she could have danced around with midgets and cole slaw and I wouldn't have remembered. The guy is kinda embarrassed but not to be beaten completely, throws a hang loose at us.

Oohh...if my son wasn't there, I would have taken the hang loose and jammed it in his colon.

Actually, I wasn't going to do anything but look intimidating so I didn't have to move at all. It worked, I didn't say a word and they knew better. See how I rock.

Monday, November 06, 2006

I Rock...


HowManyOfMe.com
LogoThere are:
0
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?



Thanks for the link Rebecca!

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Good Stuff

"There's a tendency today to absolve individuals of moral responsibility
and treat them as vicitms of social circumstance. You buy that, you pay
with your soul. It's not men who limit women, it's not straights who
limit gays, it's not whites who limit blacks. What limits people
is lack of character. What limits people is that they don't have the
fucking nerve or imagination to star in their own movie, let alone
direct it."
Tom Robbins- Still Life With Woodpecker

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Ants...

On Sunday evening I was told a very wonderful story about an ant and it's struggle against tyranny and genocide. Ah, hell, who am I kidding. I'm talking about an ant in someone's crack. And by someone I mean MegaMex.

The short story I was told was that when MegaMex was a young'n he got near an ant pile. An ant ended up in his pants, up on his ass, into the crevasse (heh). When MegaMex felt this poor little defenseless creature pop onto the scene, and just like everyone else would do, his butt cheeks clenched. OH! And as any ant would do when being crushed by a large ass, he began to bite.

Off came the pants combined with MegaMex yelling a bit. I can picture him screaming like a girl actually. His mom had to help him, and by help him I mean MegaMex had to work on being calm, relax his ass, and then spread 'em. The ass was spread, the offender located, and crushed into a fine powder by mamacita.

It tells so much better in person, but this is good stuff, I couldn't possibly let it go. Much love MegaMex.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Support Them!!!

I hate to get all serious on everyone, but this one hits pretty close to home (literally).

My little brother signed up for his THIRD tour in the U.S. Navy. On his past two trips, he's been 500 miles off-shore, on a huge aircraft carrier, directing planes on the flight deck. Not exactly a keg party, but still not 'in the line of fire' so to speak.

On this tour, he's offically in the shit. He flew out of the U.S. on 9.11.06 (nice touch, eh?), and then did a couple of hops to his destination: North Baghdad.

Now, don't any of you get political on me or I'll whip your asses like it's a ride to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

No matter what you think about this conflict or any others, the one thing you should do is support what the men and women are doing. They are there under orders, doing a job. A job that's necessary so you can sit on your ass and read this.

Support them before they go.
Support them while they are there.
Support them when they return home.

That's not a lot to ask.

You can praise or bash the country leaders and higher-ups all you want, but please be a human fucking being and support our troops.


For a little dose of what it's like being "there", check out these pics:

His bunk (aka "hooch").


Another shot. He shares the room with another guy.Not too bad on the inside, eh? Just wait...we're getting to the good part....


Out the front door.
Note the lovely sandbag planters.

Here's the gate to the yard.
Anyone remember the movie 'King Kong' (the good one, with Jeff Bridges)? "It's not what they're trying to hold in. It's what they're trying to keep out!"

The front yard.
Not a lot of mowers there.

There's my brother.
I wouldn't trust him with a bagel and the Navy gives him a gun (two actually!)

And here he is "in action" on his way to check for bad guys.


I'm not asking for prayers or money or anything like that.
Just think about what he and the other folks are doing, FOR YOU, the next time you begin typing.

Thank you.

Friday, September 08, 2006

You Smell Like a Monkey...

And You Look Like One Too....


Happy Birthday to Our Friend Flicka.


Wait...


Our Friend Munpe Q

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Monday, August 21, 2006

The Long Goodbye....

A ‘friend’ on that My Space website had some choice words to share regarding the pseudo-friendship you maintain on the MySpace realm. I went to comment on his post, and found myself purging a few choice words of my own.

Therefore, so as to not occupy too much of his comment space, I felt the need to blog this fucker out myself. I modified my comment, which didn’t change my point, just how many words it took to say it.

He was rather upset of the use of the word ‘friend’ and how many don’t take on the behavior of a friend, just requesting the ‘add’ for prestige or numbers. I agree with him.

I also have found the bastardizing of the word "friend" on MS, and yet there are a few who walk justly, and even really do make good on the term.

In the past several days, I have once again found myself learning the meaning of 'friends' and even 'family', let alone the larger aspects of 'life'.


Imagine if you will, having a family member, or really close friend, who, let's say is going away, likely to never return. You've been asked to see them off at the train station. You arrive, you help with the luggage, you even make sure they have all the accommodations, amenities, etc.
Let's say the train arrives and you help your friend board the passenger car, luggage and all.


Now...
You wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. ...


So you decide to take the time to go over your friendship, memories, ponderous questions and even some gossip or a few bad jokes....and you wait some more.

So, your friend or your family member decides to take a nap.... and they sleep. And you wait. And you wait some more.

Never knowing when they will wake again, or when that goddamn train is leaving. You've gone over so many things, and you are now at an uncomfortable level just making sure that your friend/relative is comfortable. So much to the point, it hurts like hell to see their face anymore.

So, you get up and say, "Look, I hope your trip goes smooth and easy. I love you." and you leave because there is so very little you can do anymore. You leave the train station, with your friend aboard the still not moving train.

You even stop and ask the conductor, "Excuse me, but any idea on when this train is leaving?".... “I’m Sorry. “ He replies "Nobody can really tell when this train is moving...” You nod in acknowledgement.

"But, I assure you, it won't be too long."

So what do you have left?

The time you were blessed with to spend with your loved one, regardless of how or when they left or are leaving.


Our 'friendship' or even this 'life' is comprised of memories we retain from our experience. Only WE can truly decipher where they land in respects to categories. We make the life we have by holding on to specific memories.

If we were only to keep the bad, well, let's just say that's no life for me.
I've had to learn a few harsh lessons in life. Even now, as I type, lessons are learned.
It breaks my heart how so many of us, including me here, have taken the little things for granted.

Like a phone call, a birthday card, help moving a couch, or even just a simple dinner, in or out.

Now, don’t get me wrong, many of us do lead busy lives, there’s no doubt. But, even just to keep tabs, every so often, even if all we do is leave a voice mail. Any thing. Any little thing at all.

Cherish the time we have no matter what, make good with your own time while you’re here. And, just so you know, I’m not preaching to just you. This is for me. I need to learn this and practice it too, so if anybody is isolated here, be advised, you’re not.

As in the above mentioned example, I have to leave the train station for now, waiting for that whistle to blow, letting me and the world know that my brother is finally leaving.

I had the blessing of getting some time with him, and my family too. Some are still at the station, on the train with him; some are willing to trek back and forth to see him off, everyday.

Such a strange position, this whole waiting thing, but my point is still the same. I just hope and pray I honor my brother by keeping diligent with family ties, friendships, and common courtesy.

That’s all for now,

Take care of you and yours,

T

Friday, August 04, 2006

Get Some Schoolin'

As I'm walking back to the car today from taking Non to class, I'm walking up the sidewalk and there is a Nissan 240SX dropping off some kids (heh), though not at the pool. As a good father would he simply lets them get out of the car and fend for themselves as they go to school. He actually is a good dad, and says what any normal dad would, which is to tell them to have a nice day. Then, as they walk away, he loudly says one other thing to them.

"Learn lots!"

So, um, I'm not an English major, but I'm positive that while that's mostly a complete thought, there HAS to be a better way to encourage the kids to learn as much as they can today. But instead of, "Hey guys, take advantage of the opportunity you have today and learn as much as you can!" he give's them a mixed message of "Learn lots!" which translates into "Do as I say and not as I do!". Education starts at home, if you can't speak properly to your children, they are most likely going to grow up being complete nut sacks, like you Nissan 240SX.

PS: I saw this guy a few minutes later at the Diamond Shamrock, and I wish I had more to report, but the only thing I can hold against him is his, "GO DENVER" t-shirt which had some Bible scripture reference on it. I don't think I can hold that against him (but I really wanna) and he obviously favors the shortest way possible to convey any one message. "Go Denver! Learn Lots!" Eee gads.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

"Sorry Officer, I don't know where that came from.... No really, It's not mine.. I Swear!"

Most of us have had jobs that require a background checks. Some are just simple previous employer checks, some are extensive, year long, criminal, rental and character profile examinations.

I am no exception. As a matter of fact, I was just hired permenantly to a position here at a local Hospital.

They are very diligent in respects to formalities, including updates on all vaccinations, employment history, resisdential history, and even a criminal background check.

Cue: Me, recieving a phone call through inter-office channels from Human Resources.

"Hi Mega Mex, it's The Human Resources Generalist. As you know, because of your previous address you had in another State, (Land of Entrapment) we have to do a criminal background check in that state also.

"Sure" I said, remembering a fenderbender that cost me $3K and a big hassle when I tried to get my license in my current State of residence. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Well.. Um.. Something was forwarded to our office, and we.. well, we just need you to confirm some details." She didn't sound too enthusiastic.

"Really?" I said, trying to sound as surprised as possible without giving away that I paid off that 1992 mother fucker back in '97 or so. I Swear. "Well, is there a problem?" I prodded.

"Well, we'd like to clear this up as soon as possible... Are you able to come in relatively soon?" She was trying her best to not give anything away over the phone, I guess I couldn't blame her.

"Sure, well I'm about to go to lunch, could I just pop in there, say like in 10 minutes?" I wasn't about to let this sit for a second. "That would be perfect, MegaMex. Thanks alot." "OK, I'll see you in just minutes."

I hung up the phone with a "Oh Fuck... Here we go" and left.

As I traversed through the large campus of the facility, I was recalling the details of my 'past'. "hmmm... this couldn't possibly be because of that fender bender... I KNOW I paid that off, and besides.... That wasn't hardly even a fucking minor traffic violation. Damn! This bullshit had better not jeapordize my job, I'm gonna be Pissed!"

By the time I get to her office, I'm winded (I am very out of shape), sweating and trying my damndest to keep my composure. "Hi, Mega Mex. Thanks again for addressing this so soon." She sort of had this very cautious look in her eye, like if I have any weapons on me, or in my pocket. "No Problem, just wanna get this outta the way..." meaning, No, I only have a new cell phone that I paid too much for because of 'planned obsolesence'.. (which is another story all together).

"Ok, well we got this report from your former state of residence, and well.... If you could, just look it over and confirm any details, ...... please." She just seemed a bit too nervous about finding a fucking fender bender on the goddamn criminal background that, personally, shouldn't have been there in the first fucking place.

"No problem." And I start reading:

Applicant Data Provided: Name: Mex, Mega Alberto

DOB: 12/15/XX (year not shown, for my own fucking amusment)

SSN: XXX-XX-XXXX (only last four were actually provided)

Product Coverage:
Federal criminal records for the most recent 7 years.

Source: US District Court- District of (The Land of Entrapment)

Summary: 1 Record FoundNumber of cases: 1
Case#: 03cr02XXX

Original Charges: ( I SHIT YOU NOT)

1. Possession with intent to Distribute 50 KILOGRAMS AND MORE OF MARIJUANA-SCHEDULE 1 CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE
2. AIDING AND ABETTING

Disposition:
11/20/2003: PLEAD GUILTY
CASE: TERMINATED
...


Now, at this point, I'm Thinking.. HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

I immediately show my utter shock by dropping my wide open jaw onto her desk...

Exlcaiming "Oh My God, wait wait wait HOLD ON, THIS says my middle name is 'Alberto'. It's NOT."
I grab my wallet and pull my Drivers License showing my full name, and it show NOT Alberto.

I aslo read at the end of the report:

THE CASE LISTED ABOVE HAS BEEN REPORTED BECAUSE OF A NAME MATCH ONLY AND SHOULD BE CONSIDERED AS A POSSIBLE RECORD.

ok ok ok... So,
the Last four of the SSN= Match.
The DOB= Match.But "name" matches only the middle doesn't.. hmmm.. DAMN.

Some Crazy Mother Fucker is either Got the SAME Name (almost) and DOB

OR....

The dirty fucker has stolen my ID info and is (per the research done during this blog):

1. Dead
2. In The Witness Protection Program for 'rolling' on his connections
3. Serving Time in the Big House.
4. On the Run.

Now, You can look up my (real) info online and see clearly, I AM NOT ON AMERICA'S MOST WANTED,
NOR am I a 'cheech and chong' dealer of any sort. (although, I love their movies).

But, You can be assured, I will find out WTF is going on with this 'Alberto' who was charged with BIG Possession, and shares some of my personal info.

That dirty motherfucker.

"No, officer.... Wait, HEY!! OWW! You don't have to put the cuffs on SO FUCKING TIGHT! DICK! *Whap!* OOWW!! SHIT THAT HURT FUCKER, YOU FUCKING PIG!! WAIT.... NO NO NO NO NOT THE FACE NOT THE FAAAACCE!!!!"

Monday, July 24, 2006

RF is Kicking My Ass

Updated 7.25.06 8:33am
Updated 7.25.06 1:23pm



This is possibly Part 1 in a really stupid problem that is making me curious. It also caused me to cuss out loud twice until I started putting the pieces together.

First, some history. I went to meet friends one time at Caldonia's awhile back, and as I got out of the car and lock with my remote it would not lock. I thought the batteries were low or maybe there was something screwy with the receiver in the car, so I finally manually locked the car. After I got home, it was working fine. Weird.

On Thursday morning, I went to see a client and install some
network gear. I got out and unloaded the car, and then went to lock the car and alas, I could not. I even got retarded enough to try to put the remote under the car wheel well and it just would not lock the car. I was annoyed but again I manually locked the car and went in. When I came back out 2.5 hours later, strangely enough I could not unlock the car with the remote. Ok, fine. I drove back to the office, and the remote worked fine. Just another flook, it had to be.

Every where else I went the remote worked fine. I was scheduled to go back to the clients office and made it back there about 2:30. Sumanambeech. I get out of the car, and the fekker will not work. I lock the car again, go in. Rinse and repeat. Come back out, and I manually unlock the car again.

As I'm driving back to the office, I'm starting to put things together in my head. I can't remember where I had this problem before, but then it dawns on me finally, at fekkin' Caldonia's. Fekk me running.

In the photo you'll see two cross hairs and a RF antenna symbol. Not a very good one, but it's there. The lower one is Caldonia's and the upper one is the 'client's office'. The RF antenna is only there for reference for now. There used to be a TV station there but it's not operational. Although, there are microwave antenna's on the antenna tower. There is a Fire Station right next to the antenna tower which is the possible source since the lower spectrum from 225-400 MHz is for Public Safety, among other things. The TV and microwave facts are only noted for reference and not the source since those possible sources are not in the same spectrum, but the Fire Station keeps me wondering, and it's even more probable that the antenna tower is home to the Fire Station antenna.


The remote control to the car operates in the lower UHF spectrum at around 315 MHz which is considered Selected Bands at Issue, and for sure it competes in the spectrum for it's fair share, but there is a definite strong signal in the area with a high amount of intermodulation on that frequency range.

My plan is to move forward with a small site survey in about a one mile radius and to identify the signal source or the general source site and as well as the offending frequency. Not to say the frequency is not legitimate and that it should not be interfering with my signal, but I am just nosey now. Mega Mex and I have roots in signal locating, so I'll be touching base with my roots soon enough.


UPDATE #1: As I'm driving to work this morning, I am sitting at the stop light at Iliff and Parker and this is the perfect opportunity to get my site survey under way. I put the car in park (cause it's a red light) I kill the car, pull out the keys and try to lock the doors. Nothing. So I start up the car and drive on. I'll update the image shortly.

Update #2: At lunch I decided that it was time to go on the old site survey. At first I had screwed up my experiment so I had to start over, only on the initial spots. My control: Sit in the car, left hand out of the window with the remote which at max was only 3-4 feet away from the receiver, put the car in park and turn the car off. Remove the key from the ignition. Once the car was stopped then lock / unlock the car with the remote. It's simple. By placing my hand outside the car, I had simulated me getting out of the car and attempting to lock it. Since the body is a metal body and is grounded, it would work the same as if I were standing outside of the car, and the body of the car would still have an impedence on the signal strength to the receiver from my remote. Since the receiver in the car is in front of me and not behind or beside me while sitting in the car, sitting in car would have little to no affect on this.

My only dilemma is to figure out how to get my Yaesu VX-5 on FM instead of AM, or just figure out how to switch it period. I don't know where my manual is so I could not get a definitive source frequency yet, but it's only a matter of time. I'm coming to get you lower UHF...you wait and see.

Anyway. Instead of cross hairs, they are now simply red and green dots. The red dots indicate unsuccessful lock / unlock of the car. The green dots indicate a successful lock / unlock. Yoou'll notice that the green dots are located behind buildings in relation to the antenna tower. Pretty definitive so far on that aspect. More to come.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Cold Hard Pimp'n



It's obvious that Jack Black has gotten his hands on this. The Wachowski brothers definitely used this for reference. In some parts I am reminded of The Jolly Green Giant, which is even more bazaar. Look for the 'moon man', the 'drunken monkey', and the 'wacky penguin'. And oh yeah, PonySoul wants to take credit for finding this gem, but I still haven't gotten my booty yet so he'll only get an honorable mention.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

"Itsy Bitsy Spider....

Crawled up and created a 'Hostage Situation.'

On Wednesday, July 5th, an incident occured involving my Wife, my Daughter, and a Spider at approximately 5pm.

Wife, age 30, was with our Daughter, age 8 months, at a Walgreens to pick up some various items and a prescription. After parking the car at the destination, Wife discovered a Spider after lifting up the Daughter in her carseat. Wife, after detailing some various prophanities, removed our Daughter from the car and proceeded to panic.

She then proceeded to call me on my cell phone to explain the situation. I, just finishing a days work, was on my way to Her Brothers house, who live aproximately 10 miles from the incident.

Like a suicide or crisis call center employee, I attempted to get the caller to 'calm down', speak clearly and slowly so as to provide our emergency crews as much information as possible.

Wife, who clearly is afraid of Spiders, is unable to control her current fear of the insect now residing 'somewhere' in the back seat of our car. I explained to her "You're gonna have to find it, and if possible, kill it with your shoe, okay?"

Wife replied with obcsenities and more profanity without remorse, then added "No way, No *censored* way can I do this. I can't do this. You're gonna have to get over here."
I implored to the Wife that such an idea was neither benificial, nor time efficient for the current 'hostage situiation'.

Again, Wife replied with more profanities. After careful deliberation, I found that the only choice was to handle this 'situation' myself. I drove to the location, (approximately 45 minutes away with rush hour traffic) and assessed the facts:

Wife, with Daughter outside of the car in the parking lot, looking very helpless, was extremely happy and very apologetic to see me. Store purchases and various items that were in the car, now occupy space around the vehicle.

The Wife, per my instructions, did purchase a large can of insectide for the sole purpose of killing this 8 legged 'monster'.

"Where is it?" I asked...
"I thought I saw it go under the driver's seat.." Said the Wife. "Ok, gimme the can of bug killer."

Like a Gestapo Officer, I relentlessly hosed the underside of the driver seat, hoping to 'gas' the bastard right then and there.

To no avail, I searched for a 'body'.

"Did you get him?" asked the Wife, tending to our Daughter, who was now getting slightly upset, due to the approaching 'bottle time'.

"No, don't see 'im means he ain't dead yet."
I proceeded with a more 'hands on approach' to my search by pulling the contents of the underside of the seat when my Wife exclaimed "Holy SH!T! There it is!!"

And there on the back rest of the passenger side back seat, was indeed a formidable 8 legged 'terrorist', awaiting my next move. Quickly, I repositioned myself for a better angle, flanking it from the other side of the car.

With my weapon in hand, (Raid brand bug killer) I fired at it like a neourotic hairstylist attacking a bad case of bed head with a can of AquaNet.

My aim was good, for the covered Spider now fell to the crease where the back of the seat meets the base of the seat.

And then, it crawled into the crack of the seat, disappearing entirely from my line of sight.


"Damnit." I exclaimed. "What now?" She asked. "The little SH!T bailed under the seat. I Don't know if I really got im." "Well, can you reach in there and check?" she squeaked.

Like a Drill Sergeant eyeing a recruit who just questioned my authority, I yelled "Are you out of your FUCKING MIND?!?! NO! I am NOT 'reaching in there' to check to see if it's alive or not, there or not, happy or not!!"

I was nearing the end of any strand of patience. I was angry. Not so much at the Wife for asking, but more for the lack of bravery on her part. I hastily found the latches which can release the seat to be easily removed.

There, I found the 'body' of the antagonist.

The Terror of the Day, The Beast that kills with extreme prejudice, The Tyrant, the Terrorist.....

Was Dead.

And with that, I requested a cloth or napkin in which I could lift the corpse out of the car and onto a better resting place.

The parkinglot asphalt, where I proceeded to release all my anger, hatred, frustration, and irritation, that this small, insignificant, puny life form has help create by just simply existing, by the power and passion of my big shoe, cremating it into oblivion, never to terrorize, haunt, or occupy any space near my Wife or My Daughter again.

I was partially frustrated with the Wife for, as mentioned before, her overwhelming fear of spiders. But, soon it subsided, allowing me to breathe, eat and eventually sleep the memory of this occurance away, as if it never happened.

But it did.

And, here on this website, will remain.

Only for those who choose to reach the end of this horrific story.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

I Have no Time

I Have No Time...to write something pithy

I Have No Time...to do all that I am supposed to do

I Have No Time...to see Q and everyone else I want to spend time with

I Have No Time...to do the massive ammounts of laundry, clean up my house, and still have enough slacking off time to keep me sane

I Have No Time...to be a good worker

I Have No Time...to write the letter i said i was writing

I Have No Time...to figure out what to do with my life

I Have No Time...to find something stunning that begins with the letter 'L'

I Have No Time to finish this blog...

Monday, June 26, 2006

Chicken

Did I Say That Out Loud?

When I get wrapped up in work or something that really has my attention I tend to also randomly say things in my head about what I'm doing or what I'm thinking while balls deep in my task.

I have been known to say things randomly and without care about whatever is on my mind. But sometimes, there are those moments where I'm having a private moment internally about the thing with the two heads and the Astroglide and the lions whip and the giant Fantasy Swing with the cute red head.

Ok, see that's what I'm saying. I get going and then I pop my own bubble due to fear that I have just said some shit out loud.

Now, for those monkey's that know me, this is so far removed than my normal day to day stuff, where I will randomly throw a curve ball in the mix if we're going at it. I'm talking about the kind of thing that happens where I could have someone sitting there talking to me at my desk, and I'm still wrapped up in work, but I'm kind of conscience to what is being said, and then I pop off with, "Goddamn Granola Crunch is killing my bee hives" or some shit. And people go, um, ok.

Well, anyway, I officially think that this is a fear of mine. To just say something that is on my mind without realizing that I did and to have people over hear me. I will say just about anything about myself for those who wanna know. -Just- about anything. Not all. I gotta have something for myself, and it's those bits that might get out that make me nervous. But sadly it's nothing that interesting, I haven't killed anyone in the clergy nor should I be considered a second suspect along side O.J. I just got some goods I want to keep all to my lonesome.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Sorry is the Hardest Word

Ok, granted there are pinheads in this world. I come across these asshats everyday.

But I honestly didn't expect myself to be one.

Dateline 6/22/06,
location: Adolini's Bar & Grill, Golden
Mission: To put on one badass rock show with your friends and brothers.

My band was scheduled to play at this bar, and maybe even get it record and mastered onto DVD. Cool huh?

Well, let me first explain that is was known from the beginning, This was a non-paying gig. We were ok with that. This also was a 'to get exposure' kind of a thing.' We were ok with that. We were scheduled according to their web'space' and my friend, who got us the show. We were cool with that to..

The Scheduled Line Up:
8 PM an acoustic singer/songwriter accompanied by a couple of my bandmates. COOL
9PM One of my bandmates (his band composed of him/me/ and our drummer... COOL.
10PM me and all my boyz rock out VERY COOL.

The REALITY:
8pm came and went, apparently since the 'sound man' (we'll call him asshat#1) just didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. Well, he finally gets The guys on and they play. Now, for the record, despite the tardiness, they actually SOUNDED really damn good. Mainly because they are very talented, but also because the sound guy mixed them good.

9pm group actually gets on at about 10. Now here's were it gets stupid. Asshat #1 vanishes. I'm onstage to play bass, already set up, and so are the otherguys. The keyboardist from MY band is getting concerned because the folks who came out to see us are starting to LEAVE. He approaches me, I had no idea where Asshat#1 is. He goes to look. He's back in no less than 1 minute to tell me "That sound guy is a total fucking asshole!" Of course I think "WTF?" No sooner than he walks to his table, a couple of 'patrons' (guys I never met) are giving me an 'ugly kid joe' while walking out, saying :

"We wanted to hear you play, but it's fucking late."

Ok, so by now I am begging tto think that there is a problem.

No. Wait.

The soundguy walks in right after the 'joes' leave saying "Anybody else have a fucking problem with me?"

Ok NOW there' s a problem.

Now Here's the part were I turn into an asshat. (Asshat #2) ME: "Nah man, just wanna get the show on, y'know. Some of the folks that showed are leaving. "

Asshat#1: "well we are here to record a fucking TV show, and the bands get recorded when they get recorded. I ain't gonna put up with no shit from assholes off the street. Now as soon as I'm ready, WE'RE ready."

Now, you might be saying "WTF!" and 'why didn't you beat the living shit outta AssHat#1 right there and then?'

That's why I am Asshat#2.

But wait it gets even better. (or worse)

We play, and from the stage it was good. Real Good. Hell, I almost forgot about all the BS from before it was so good.
We end our set and now for MY BAND:

It's somewhere between 11:45pm and 12:15 AM. We are finally set up we are linechecked and by this time My guitar player and my keyboard player are ready to grab their shit, say FUCK THIS SHIT, and go home. I give them my pep talk before we go on, I tell them that no matter what has happened, or will happen, we came to play, we are going to make history right here, right now, let do it.

And we played, probably one of our best shows, Not perfect, but we brought it.

And it was captured on DVD. For all time, forever.

and so was Asshat#1, bitching in between a couple of songs about the Keyboard pushing too much signal killing the mix. This wouldn't have been a big deal, but remember: Asshat#1 is a total fucking asshole.


We actually get things sorted, the mix is fixed, everything sounds kosher.
Cue Asshat#2 (Me): "Now that we've got the sound fixed can we get a bit more of the keyboard in the monitors?"
Yeah, I got HUGE balls,

Balls of Cotton.


We bang out the rest of our set. We actually put on a damn good show. Everybody there, (including all asshats) were pleased with it. Even took home a $150 (yup that's right) DVD to show for it. Hell, a few of the songs were never recorded before this and now we've got 'em. I can finally send that song I wrote for my dad, on DVD, full blown.

OK... so
WTF is my point?

I could have stood up for my brothers, but I didn't. I could have said a million things to defend my band, friends and my family, I could have even just said "FUCK THIS SHIT AND FUCK YOU, WE'RE LEAVING."

But I didn't. And I fell like a total shit ass for it.

Yeah, we got a great performance on video, but at what cost? Was it really worth it? What would have been a better thing to do?

I may be overanalyzing shit, but then, isn't that the point of this blog?

Now, for the part I feared. I sent an email to one of my friends, and I told him the hardest thing I could say:


I'm Sorry.

Friday, June 16, 2006

The Facilities

Recently I visited the head in the office. And OMFG was I instantly angered. Some nut sack left their Taco Bell jammed in the one goddamn toilet we have. On top of this, that crack head apparently had an additional Burrito Supreme or 4 extra tacos because it was not going anywhere.

As I cleared the problem and sat to have my own personal experience, I decided that this was one time that was not going un-noticed. See, I have had to clear the muddy waters before, but the fact that I had to become a freakin' plumber was -enough- ! It was time to send the email from the handy dandy notebook (aka Blackberry) to most of the male staff during this time period, while launching the escape pods.

Here for your enjoyment is that very email:
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fellas,

Who ever was the last to use the 'facilities' to 'drop some packets' you left that 'connection open and there was limited bandwidth for traffic flow'. This would be the second time I have had to 'close a connection to that socket' and the first to 'forcefully end that session by use of additional tools'. I would seriously recommend that you 'monitor the status of your packet flow to ensure proper connectivity so the proper destination is achieved'. If I personally have to 'monitor and close sessions' like this again I will probably go a little nucking futs about it.

Your friendly neighborhood watch commander,

Munpe Q

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A recommendation from Wordicus:

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe we have a bandwidth problem. Should we "route some traffic" through the "women's facility" instead? Perhaps a little "load balancing" is in order...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turns out, this trend has no end. As reported by Pile:

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I just ran into some nasty UDP that was lost in transit. The sender didn't check the TTL and caused a nasty buffer overflow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~


Shortly there after I had a verbal confirmation from Bulldog that he was not to blame, I knew this, and that he was kind enough to report that he had indeed had a SYN > ACK. I asked to ensure the socket was closed that he received a FIN, and in fact he did. Good for you Bulldog.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Friday-itis

Look, if it's a little after 3PM on Friday and you don't really feel like doing your job for the next 2 hours because the weekend is so close, just fucking quit.

There are 10 other people who would love to have your job and would do it until 5 o'clock each day. I'll bet ya the company could hire them cheaper than you as well.

I'm in Orlando at the big charity event my friend and I put on each year. We're expecting several packages that contain raffle prizes for the attendees. These range in size from 1 lb. all the way up to 86 lbs., which contains a brand new guitar amplifier. The amp was shipped from San Diego on Weds. and was sent 2-day air using a company that has 3 letters in it's name, the first of which is "U".
On Thursday, the foot controller for the amp arrives in it's little 3 lb. box. It's marked "1 of 2" and it's actually ahead of schedule. I made the BRUTAL mistake of getting my hopes high that the large 86 lb. box would arrive on time the following day.

I'm such a dreamer. Or am I?

The event is scheduled to start at 8PM on Friday night. The delivery company stops delivering at 6PM. No packages yet, so I call them with the tracking number....

"CUSTOMER SERVICE!!!!"
"CUSTOMER SERVICE!!!!"
...fucking automated phone prompts....I hope they can pick up the anger in my voice as they automatically transfer me....

"Hello. I need this package [gives tracking number] delivered to this hotel. Now."
"I'm sorry sir, but the drivers are finished delivering packages for the day."
"No they are not. They have one more to deliver. The company paid for 2-day. Today is the 2nd day. Get it?"
"I'm sorry sir, but the notes here say that they could not find that address."
"Are you fucking kidding me? They dropped off the first half of the delivery yesteryday. They sure as shit know where this place is. Don't lie to me. I'm bored with that. What I need is that box delivered here before 8PM. I don't care how you get it here. Grab a bike. Just have it here by 8."
"I'm sorry sir but all the drivers are gone for the day. The package will be delivered the next business day."
"Look, there is no 'next business day' here. It's an annual event. Today is my ONE business day all year."
"You can try calling the local distribution facility, but they closed 30 minutes ago."
"Give me the number."

At this point, blood is coming out of my eyes and people at the event are starting to look at me funny and step slowly toward the exits. It's understandable. I forgive them. I hope they forgive me later.

I let the fucking number ring. And ring. And ring.
Twelve minutes later, it's answered.

I explain the whole thing over again to the guy that the previous operator told me (lied to me) that she had contacted. The guy is fairly cool, but he can't locate the box.
Finally he does. It's there. He can see it.
"Great. Now put it on a truck or a motorcycle and get it over here. The event starts in 20 minutes. I need it here by then. I can't raffle off a piece of paper saying 'Coming Soon!'."
"I'm sorry sir, but all the drivers are gone for the day."
"You don't have a fucking car?"
"I can't deliver packages in my personal vehicle. The company doesn't allow that."
"I'm *wide* open for ideas then. Courier, rickshaw, transporter beam, toss 'em out there....I'm listening..."
"You can come here and pick it up."
"Is that some kind of sick fucking joke? You're a DELIVERY company!"
"That's the only option at this point, or we can deliver it on Monday."
"Apparently you didn't get the memo from the first person about how there is no 'monday' for me."
"Well, we're open until 9PM, our address is....."

Son of a cock junkie.
I get in my truck, leave two black rubber trails out of the parking lot and head to their facility to pick it up. A 30 min. trip. Each way. The security guard at the facilty is pretty cool, but a *tad* bit over-protective of the pavement he's securing. Maybe it was my violent body shakes that kept his hand on his walkie-talkie. Or maybe the guy inside cowering behind the window had warned him that I was "upset".

I get the package back. It's almost an hour after the event had started. I'm a little calmer now. Not much.
I needed a beer. Badly.

All of this......
Because some fuckstick had a case of Friday-itis and didn't want to lift/drop-off an 86 lb. box.
That cock-smoker.

I guess the better question is: What CAN'T Brown do for you today?

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

You Don't Write anymore.....

Gotta hand it to my blood MunpeQ.

Always thinkin', always on his toes.


He and I.. we're the same..

Ok. Maybe not. Certainly not in that 'Fight Club' sort of way. But He does pick up what gets
thrown down. And regularly too.

What the fuck am I talking about?

I'll tell ya.

Bloggin', that's what.


When that uncomfortable silence kicks in during a conversation, sometimes making THAT part of your conversation, it's no longer 'uncomfortable'.

At least not to me. I just think it's a great idea to point out when you think the conversation is
now defunct.

Sometimes it makes the 'uncomfortableness' MORE uncomfortable. But so what. Don't be a pansey. Be first and forward and say what's on your mind.

I unfortunately am incredibly OBSESSED with this comic/graphic novel project. It literally consumes almost every hour of my fucking day. I can't help but think out scenarios, or production details and equipment or anything else that could forward the Project.

I lament this to a point. But the truth is I am really havening a great fucking time.

Now if I could only win the goddamn powerball.

......


...............

















There's that uncomfortable silence again....

Monday, June 12, 2006

Morning Wood



I'd like to mention how great wood is. I'm not talking about the whole cord of wood, just the log of your choosin'. There ain't nothing like taking a trip down the steps first thing in the AM to pull off a log. Sun's breaking through the windows, animals are starting to rustle around, the smell of the ol' lady cookin' some grub, and you with your wood; about to start some trouble with your log.

Hope the young'n ain't around, cause it's gonna be hard to douse the fire once you get it started.

Have fun in the morning with your wood next time you think of it.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Where oh where has my little jug gone?


Where are you?


I can't go on living without you...

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Not Having It "Your Way". Ever.

At first, I thought maybe I was the physical incarnation of William H. Macy's character from "The Cooler", and just had terrible luck.
Then I realized that there is no fucking way possible on Earth that one single person could have this many things continually get jacked up. No way. No fucking how.
So, I began keeping track.

In Feb. 2005, I started conducting a little test. I wanted to see how long it would take for a drive-thru to get my order correct. Now, for the control parts:
- Nothing obscure or overly-complicated. For burgers, the request was "no mustard" simply because I'm allergic to it.
- Discontinued menu items don't count (Taco Bell is notorious for their 2-week specials).
- Only major fast food chains. The local chinese restaurant is out of the test because I pretty much love their food no matter how it gets to me.
- "A Correct Order" relates to any part of a standard drive-thru order: food as requested, napkins, utensils, straws, etc. Missing or extra items, such as fries or nuggets, counts as incorrect. Missing dressing only counts if I asked for it at the time I ordered.

I eat at fast food places 2-3 times a week.
95% of the time, I use the drive-thru. The other 5% is when I have to get out of my vehicle and end up throwing my incorrect order across the counter at the manager, screaming "Do it again, burger boy!"

In our area, we have all of the major chains, but I also included the restaurants in cities that I traveled to- L.A., Orlando, most of the East coast, Pittsburgh area, Indy, Cinci, Cleveland.

It is now April 0f 2006.
In that time, I have not had one order correct.
No. I am not kidding.

Is there fucking neurosurgery going on behind the counter? What is so insanely complicated about "Double with cheese, no mustard, medium coke"? Does the 'no mustard' line really throw them for a loop? "Oh, he doesn't want mustard...I can't take it...someone get me a Xanax and a shot of Wild Turkey. Stat!"
Look- I understand that working at a fast food place can blow. Hard. I get it.
But at the same time, I don't think that I'm asking for a lot. I also know that I'm not the biggest pain-in-the-ass customer you've had today (I promise).

The saddest part of this whole thing is that I continue to purchase fast food from the same places that fucked me a couple of days ago.


Tips for the Franchises:
- If I order (2) Mexi-Melts, I don't need 4.7 lbs. of hot sauce.
- A single napkin in the bag, regardless of order size, will result in a swift kick in the ass.
- "no ice" means that the drink (or the burger) doesn't have any ice in it.
- An overly large-headed 'king' waking up in someone's bed (with or without breakfast), is NOT cool. It's just creepy and wrong. Plus, I don't think anyone, except for your ad execs, truly believes he can run back kickoffs for touchdowns, esp. in that kinda clothing.

Fun Facts:
- I currently live in the same town Wendy's started in (Columbus, OH)
- If you have 8 friends, one of them probably worked at McDonalds at one time.
- In Australia, Burger King is called "Hungry Jack".
- Arby's is actually a phonic for "RB", but doesn't stand for "roast beef". It's short for the company founders, the Raffel Brothers.
-Dave Thomas and I are both adoptees.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Oh Puke

Eeewwww....Real World is coming to Denver.

I had always hoped we would be over looked and for 17 seasons we had been. I think I am the only chick i know who never watched or liked the show. You know those douchebags are going to start spending time at my favorite downtown bar and ruin it for the entire summer. Bastards!

Denver isnt big enough to hide from these people, even if you avoid downtown (something I try to do anyway). They will start showing up at bars and music venues I like...dancing and getting drunk and then crying about how so and so is fucking so and so. Dirty dirty bastards.

stupid MTV...

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Kites

Goddamn kites and their need for wind. EVERYTIME Non and I go to fly this mother fucker, it never works. So now I have to offer this, is it me and my inability to fly a kite, my inability to pick appopriate times to fly the damn thing, or simply my inability to be able? SHF...

submitted from success has failed

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Heavens...

Sakes alive this blog has become vulgar!

I thought I would vag it up a bit with a picture i took of my gato.


Yes! Pussy come home!




Also, random links to girly things like...

Girly Things

Menstruation

and

Unicorns!




Ahhh....

tweet tweet goes the bird

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!MOTHERLOVINGBLAM!


This my friends, is yours truly getting , as we say : 'SHot the fuck up'. I hope this image disturbs you because it should. Nothing is entertaining about real violence.

Except..


This is NOT real. Of course it's not, hell This posting let alone this picture would not get posted if it was! So..

Be entertained for chrissakes! Shit, 'far as I's concerned, I get a jolly giggle everytime I see it. It's a stupid stylized image of Mega Mex eating lead. Fuck. That's Funny.

Send that to TBS.. he hehe..

Anyway, see my soon to be full blown graphic novel to know where this is going.

If not... Well, like the top of the page says, DON'T READ THIS.

Suckers.

And lo, a voice squawked from the cellular realm...

this is an audio post - click to play

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Your Failure Is Complete

Now, I have the key to the only source of true knowlege! MMuuwwaahahahaha! Soon, all of you
will face the rath of the MegaMex.

Or...

What ever the feebleminded, sad little man thinks he has to say.


I will be posting some rants here, asap. Maybe a pic or two.

CHUPA!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Bullets and Daisies

Mega Mex has been assimilated into the blogger lifestyle. He opens up with the Bullets and Daisies story. Look for the link to the right.

Daisies, as it turns out, are my favorite flower. And no, I don't have a vagina. I just like the GD flowers, k? So cram it in your cram hole.

Bullets are, by some weird mystery, my favorite accelerated projectile to fire down range in the hopes of getting a good grouping in the mass of the silhouette, or in the body mass of your favorite B&E suspect in the living room of your favorite home. I like the idea of lots of favorite things.

Anyway, I'm done.

Off to the Land of Entrapment tomorrow. Anything else that comes along is fair game, such as Andre the Giant's poop snake, or a large woman named Frances or Julia, neither of which I have any prior knowledge of, dig it?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Birthday Shoutouts!

My mother is 65(?) today. Is that right? Am i the only one who has no idea how old their mother is? How hard can it be to remember one date. i mean seriously, a year. I know my phone number from highschool...my ssn...all my pin numbers...but I cant remember the year my dear sweet mother was born.

here is a picture of me and my mom when I was a kid.



If you know my mother, call her and say happy birthday.

In case you dont know her I thought I would tell you a little bit about her so that you can say, after reading it, "Wow, I almost feel like I know her."

Stuff About Bird's Mom

~She was born the oldest of 8 in Red Springs, North Carolina.

~Her father was a sharecropper. Can you believe that?

~She was in the Air Force.

~She gave birth to 6 children.

~She once killed a man in Reno just to watch him die. Oh, wait that wasnt my mom. That was my dad. ba-dum-p-ching!

~She is very funny, has a sharp wit and can be mean if she wants to.

~She is smart and reads huge ol' biographies and also, smut. Dirty dirty smut.

~She has always wanted a tattoo but never got one.

~She likes the color purple and also blue.

~She is short and I think she is shrinking.

~She is a good woman who raised some wonderful kids, of which, I am the best and most loved.



So there you go. Now that you know so much about her you are required to eat her meatloaf and visit her at least once a year. Get to it!

Happy Birthday Mom!

~Bird~

Saturday, March 18, 2006

South Park Can Eat It

You know, I give a large phuck in the arse about what people do in their free time, be it praying to their favorite Hoola Hoop Rock star on High, finding a recently missing now newly found Gawd, or becoming a professional Pornographer. Hell, I'm even in favor of making fun of the aforementioned folk and anyone in between.

But that's where my hypocrisy knows no boundaries.

Let me just say to Trey Parker & Matt Stone.

Please shoot yourself in the face.

I'm pleading with you.

Recently Isaac Hayes (Check it) pulled out and dropped his proverbial load all over the wonderful bag of shit known as South Park (SP). He claims to have had enough of the religious bigotry and intolerance. Sure, fine, whatever just grab a mic and STFU. Intolerance is subjective, and I certainly know that SP goes beyond most people's acceptable limits of intolerance, however, there are the people who can't seem to live knowing people believe in a higher power (not turbo charged diesel engines). If you don't think so, then you're just an intolerant asshole and for that, a congratulation goes out to you. SP is in the headlines (Check it) with Tom Cruise & Co., the now de facto leader of the Hubbard clones.


On with my plea. You two fucking untalented hacks, you fucking opportunistic bags of shit, you pole smokin' sell outs, you leached on the backs of people who you were able to bull shit your way into helping you, then turn around and fuck them, over and over again. And in your amazing coke hazed LA lifestyle, you somehow are able to sleep soundly. I guess it must be easy when you don't have any type of conscience.

So, I guess I just wanted to invite you to put the double-barrel under your chin, toe on the trigger, take one more pull from your bong and a couple of more lines and then kick the shit out of that gun.



Geez. So much anger, eh? Hey, I like cartoons as much as the next immature adult, but seriously, SP? Hell no. A couple of Boulder CU stoners make it good, and fucking walk on the backs of everyone who helped them for a dollar. Fuck you Trey and Matt.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Oh heavens

Q, I can hardly wait to see you!

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

The Slack

If Bob is God,
And God is Hope,
Then God is Bob Hope.


Church of the SubGenius

Monday, February 20, 2006

Shocking...

In case you ever wondered, the voltage used for T1's is a lot.

180 VDC to be exact.

I didn't know that until today, and while trying to simply measure the voltage, I did something almost as dumb as the time when I shorted out a screw driver against a
Unilux light in the attempt to repair it. Quite the experience that was.

Today however, I rested my index finger against the posts of a 110 cross connect block and, well, let's just say that I wasn't pleased with my choice of places to put my finger. 184 VDC is the actual voltage on these two posts I touched and it bites. Don't try this at home. I'm serious. ;)

Dang.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Pokin' the Kitty

Well friends, it is a shame that I must report that there is no longer a need, nay, a -current- need to continue to 'q-tip' the cat. I thought for sure I'd have some interesting stories but I just don't. She must have gotten enough the first go around.

There was the 5:30 am screaming session one morning, but I must have rubbed her out good because she is all done for now.

Now I must come up with something more interesting than molesting the cat.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Thunder Pussy



This post is dedicated to Bird, the only expert I know in the field of Feline Masturbation. This is also dedicated to TP directly for sharing the same name and needs as my cat. And finally dedicated to PETA.

So, here we are on a Sunday evening. Instead of brutily kicking, screaming and/or choking my cat for her apparent needs of getting laid, I decided to cross a particular boundary that I thought I could never cross.

Sticking foreign objects into my cat.

This final straw came about when the cat, Thunder, decided to share her love gash with the entire household, and specifically stick her craw right into my son's face. Nice touch I might add. On top of not getting any sleep, not me completely mind you (thanx to those who covered for me last night) I decided to get beyond this fear of staring into the 1 eye of my cat. I did it. The only thing that could help me overcome this was to ensure that I was not the only one having to deal with this. Bird was on the phone and I was getting the cat off. Very nice.

Bird had had enough, so it was time for a photo opp. Where's VP Cheney when you need him, eh? So, here ya go. The last shot I'm a bit proud of, this is actually where I must have hit rock bottom. I was either at the end of the canal or scratching the back of her throat. Squirmy little shit too.

You can decidedly be prepared for more of these. I'm not possibly gonna be the only witnessing this fiasco. If I get some good audio, I'll post it.

Stayed tuned, you're not going to want to miss out on this. Megamex, you should really try this...

Photos by Funyon

Friday, February 10, 2006

A Tribute to Movement of all Types

Once again, TV commentators have been able to cause my innards to twist upon themselves.

Watching the Winter Olympics opening ceremony, I heard the most craptastic phrase used without them laughing hysterically.

"A Tribute to Movement of all Types"

I have a movement of my own that they can solute. In fact, I'm gonna need a shower after this particular movement.


And Bob Costas, STFU ok? You hack.

The Devil Has a Face and It Is





My god...why do I like this crap so much?

Oh, maybe because there's an addictive chemical that makes you crave for it nightly, smartass!

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

There's No Such Thing as Bad Press...

New marketing slogans for religion.


Please practice religion responsibly.

Don't blindly follow an imaginary friend and drive.

Finish your religion. There are starving atheists in Africa.

That frosty religious sensation.

The religion so good it's bad.

Religion is a curable condition.

The religion that made Milwaukee jealous.

Religion. Reach for Greatness.

It's RELIGION. Hooray religion!


As a side bar, I'd recommend that we develop an investment portfolio for naturally forming glass in the Middle East. When there is the great impending nuclear exchange that will wipe out the rediculous amount of ignorant and blind people over there, all that will be left is a glass parking lot just waiting to be harvested. Let's hop on board before it's too late...

Friday, February 03, 2006

Foto Phun

I just liked this photo and wanted to post it somewhere...

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Lay some on me...

"Help, the heavy tourist is pinching my kidney."

"It's no use running around in the tombs, we need to find some help!"

"This desert is huge!"

"I'm warning you pal, I'm a champion arm wrestler..."

"We must travel north, by the stars...!!!"

Friday, January 27, 2006

Dreams Can Come True...

It can happen to you....

If your dream is to be hit on by a lesbian...


Success!! Today, i picked up my co-worker and headed to the gas station to fill up the birdmobile. Since my strip on the old credit card is rubbing off I can no longer pay at the pump. This particular station has a lot of run offs so I have to prepay. While inside i get some coffee. I stand in line and when my time comes, amble up to the counter to put $25 on #5 and pay for my joe. The lady working the register, wearing a gay pride pin and the general "lesbian uniform", rang up my gas and said, "The coffee's on me." Really? Wow...how great. I chat a little more about it being friday and not very cold and head back to the car all smiles.

"Hey thunderpussy, I totally got hit on by a lesbian! Finally!!"

I have been to several bars either for lesbians or gay men and have yet to be hit on by the women there. I try to tell myself that the patrons can somehow tell that I am not a lesbian and so just shy away from me but really....it wouldnt kill someone to show a little love right? So today was kind of like a bizarre-dream come true for me.

Oh yes, I am feelin' good.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Every Other Line

B: I see the flower but I wonder, can it see me?

M: Running naked backwards in a corn field is likely to end my anal virginity.

B: I hear you scratching but I really just dont care. Your shit does too stink...

M: Masturbating with 1 liter plastic products is not recommended.

B: Who drew a picture of their intestines all over my schematic?

M: You don't have to bend over to get my attention, I'll give it to you just the same.

B: After a month at the post office, you arent nearly as skunky as I thought you would be.

M: Normally, Catholic priests should not be asking for swimsuit photo auditions.

B: I shall gladly work for the Tool King; but only if he calls me the Duchess of Spackle.

M: My hair stylist, like my hair, finally recommended not coming back.

B: After 7 years I have finally worn away the crotch in my underwear: homemade crotchless panties!

M: The reference to Beef-A-Roni in 1992 was my only attempt to be famous.

B: The brain is empty.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Stalled Communication

Well, so I hear recently that the repeater on Bald Mountain is down for some unknown reason.

So now I guess we're back to smoke signals, drums, and graffiti for means of communications. That is of course unless you have a cell phone, land line phone, CB radio, e-mail, instant messenger, private branch exchange, fax machine, Skype, simplex ham radio, commercial licensed HT's, satellite communication, or even the ability to simply change frequencies and use another repeater. But if you don't, then go out to your local supermarket, grab some Sharpies and some flat Black spray paint, and perhaps a D'jembe or Conga and/or a Bongo and start spreading the word, whatever that word may be, unless it is of course has something to do with being Mormon, Catholic, Baptist, Nazareth, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Scientology, Bahai, Confucianism, Sikhism, Wicca, Shinto, then you must not be allowed to speak with anyone, ever. You may also not use these forms of communication if you like Oprah, Martha, Montel, Maury, Phil, Sally, Jenny, or anything to do with Geraldo. You also may not communicate with others if you are mentally handicapped and have not been steralized (palabra TP). You may not communicate with the elderly when they are bathing. You may not try and establish open dialog with shell fish. You may not communicate with anyone that has a moniker of Hugo. You may not communicate the intention of giving someone cash and then not receiving some in return. You may not communicate to a soul brutha that is too bookoo. There will be more to come, but in the mean time, please adhere and no one will get hurt.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Pale Face

Used by Native Americans to describe the invading honky tribes.

Also used on this very day to describe the color of my face. My heart was not feeling well today. I took a walk and came back. I must of overdone it or something. Blood sugar feels low and I'm hungry.

I'm eating Trail Mix and some terrible version of Mexican food heated rapidly by a hi wattage magnetron while 'the food' spins on a center axis, the magnetron providing a strong RF signal of 800+ watts at 2.4Ghz, which as we all know is the frequency at which water molecules respond the best and vibrate, thus creating heat.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Quick Thoughts

Notes from the "Office Observation" Board:

12/30/2005 @ 8:35am
Bird is happy and well adjusted

1/6/06 @7:50am
Bird has lost all faith in humanity

1/6/06 @8:10am
Thunderpussy asks, "Have you ever thought about
kidnapping someone and holding them captive"



************
Thank god it is friday...

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Corporate Fucks

Fuck corporate fucking beaurocratic passive agressive lazy shills...

Does it seriously fucking take 6 people, 25 minutes, on one fucking conference call to attempt to establish a VPN tunnel between two locations? Fuck no it doesn't.

Does it take the same amount of people, the same amount of time, on said fucking conference call only to receive some stupid fucking shitty word document that contains information that I could have vomited over the phone in 5 minutes? Fuck no it doesn't.

Does it take 20 hours to troubleshoot a VPN tunnel? Fuck no it doesn't.

Should it take 2-3 days to configure this tunnel? Fuck no it shouldn't.




I hate you fuckers, all of you, who get in the way of progress for the sake of making sure your shitty little word document gets distributed as if it were laced punch in some small South American township. You fucks!




AAARRGGHGHG!!!!!