Florida Trip

I got back from Florida late last night, and I had so many thoughts running through my mind (which I shared with T, my wife, after downing about 2000 calories in 5 minutes):

• I'm SO sick of U-Ass Airways. They have so many delayed/cancelled flights due to maintenance, it's a wonder they don't go bankrupt (oh, wait...they did). We were stuck on the tarmack for ~1.5 hours because they didn't have gas in their "engine starter machine". Not to mention that I usually end up getting a cold when I fly with them, AND their planes usually smell like fecal matter.
• Some people are just so stupid. I HATE when people carry those huge wheeled luggage pieces onto a plane. I was stuck behind no less than 8 people who jammed up the exiting process because they couldn't get their "spruce goose tourister" down from the overhead bin. The only funny thing about this was that SO many people had these, that there was no overhead space left before even 1/2 the plane had boarded. The comedy factor was that I had a cloth computer, so I had the pleasure of sneering at the losers who had to check their baggage on the jetway.
• Some people are just too slow. Frail/especially older people should wait until everyone else has exited the plane before they even attempt to unbuckle their seatbelt. Nothing annoys me more than waiting for a 90 year old woman to put her sweater on, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE, whilst 50 other people wait behind her to exit the plane. THEN she has to go back, get her Reader's Digest, which she'll inevitably drop, pick up, drop again....you get the picture.
• Some people are just plain vile. If you're on a packed flight, and you have the gaul to lift a cheek and float the most fowl smelling fumes past other passengers, you don't deserve to fly. I was this close (pinching my fingers very close together...VERY CLOSE) to saying to passengers in front and beside me "Who did it?? Was it you, you swine???!?!?". It was not a pleasant flight home.\
• Some people are just plain inconsiderate. There was a woman who was taking very loudly on her cell phone, and it was only 6:30 in the morning. Put away your friggin' squawk box...I don't care about your "big deal coming down the pipeline" or whether or not "consulting will be able to handle the hours"...just shut the hell up! Oh, and while I was waiting in line at security, an older gentleman pushed passed me to get into one of the other lines. I loudly said "Where are you going?", to which he replied "I'm getting in line", to which I replied "Yeah, well, if you didn't notice, we're all in line".......he didn't listen, and proceeded to jump into the next queue (at least I said something).

To sum up: Airlines = unsanitary, People = annoying. When are they going to mass-market the personal jetpack?!?

"America's Wang"

I'm travelling to Florida tomorrow to visit a client. It's a 1 day trip; I'm flying into Ft. Lauderdale in the morning, and then flying back to Boston in the afternoon. Homer Simpson once called Florida "America's Wang". What with the daily hurricanes, the crime, and the large percentage of Q-Tips (i.e. old people), I can't help but agree. At least this trip should provide some fodder for Thursday's post.

BTW: I know that A LOT of people like to bitch and moan about Microsoft's iron-clad grip on the operating system market, but you know what? They deserve it...it's the easiest OS to install, hands down. I spent quite awhile installing Fedora Core 3 on an old machine last year, and it took me almost a week to install all the correct drivers (and I'm being generous). I installed XP on another old machine today in 1.5 hours (including upgrades). They might be aggressive towards their competitors, and they may screw up the security thing (which they'll be forced to rectify), but they sure as Hell beat the crap out of Linux on the "ease-of-use" side of things. Don't get me wrong, Linux is great (I still use the Fedora box daily for browsing, web dev testing, etc), but it's definately NOT for the average user.

Not much doin'.

Didn't do much this weekend. In fact, I haven't done much, aside from work, in the past week. I'm wondering if working from home is stunting my social skills?!? Ah well...I can still wear sweatpants everyday.

Cream

I caught a large portion of Cream's Reunion on PBS the other night. It was good...although, at times, I did get the feeling that they were "mailing it in". I really can't complain, though...Cream's "mailing it in" is better than 99.9% of any other bands out there. It's fascinating to watch the onstage interplay between Clapton, Bruce, and Baker (they're all astounding musicians). They could've showed more close ups of Claptons hands as he played...pretty cool stuff...I can watch a great guitarist for hours.

Alcohol Inhalers??!? Where have I been?

Do I really need to imbide alcohol any quicker than I ordinarily do? Apparently so. I would've love to have been around when this idea was conceived. "Funnels, keg stands, shotguns...No, not fast enough. I want to BREATE pure Vodka!!!" Here's how I see it: If you feel the need to literally inhale your tequila, you're probably going to get wasted one way or another, regardless of what the government tries to ban. If the tried and true methods of social drinking (i.e. imbibing a few beers, a few shots of vodka, two or three mudslides, topped with a Jack shooter, followed by an embarassing night for you and your friends) do not meet your needs, then I think it's time you raise the white flag, march your ass into AA, and declare yourself what we all knew you to be in the first place....AN ALCOHOLIC!!! Talk to me when you get to step 9...because you ruined my fine knit cashmere sweater back in 01'.

Of course, there are always other ways to party.

Stand-up Bit...

HTE called me the other day to bounce a new joke idea off me. Awhile back, HTE and I started writing stand-up comedy routines, but neither of us have taken the next step and "gone live". Mine's VERY hacky (did you ever notice?...who are these people?), and needs a lot of work, but I'm going to paste it here anyway:

Have you ever noticed that companies these days try to fit in every single racial/minority category into their advertising? Macdonalds is the worst. Their placemats look like they were designed by the United Nations: They've got a black customer walking into the store, a Hispanic girl at the register, a 95 year old man washing the floors, an Asian woman cleaning the windows, a mentally retarded kid spraying the lettuce, and a deaf/mute American Indian working the drive thru. I mean C'mon, do I really need to know how to sign Navajo just to order a Big Mac these days?? I've got an idea, why don't they figure out how to make my fries taste like they weren't boiled in ass, THEN we'll work on the whole "World Peace Thing", OK?

Did you hear that Macdonald recently shut down all of it restaurants in Bolivia? I didn't even realize that Bolivia had the infrastructure to support a chain of McDonalds? Quite frankly, I didn't even know they had paved roads in Bolivia, because I've never been there. Maybe they don't?!? Maybe people were swinging from vine to vine just to get there. Of course, that's probably why MacDonalds decided to leave...have you ever seen a greasy fatso try to swing from a vine?

Have you ever had one of those really awkward situations where you run into an old girlfriend or boyfriend, and you try to impress them with how wonderful your life is since their gone? "So...how have you been?" "I've been super...I'm dating a lawyer" "Things are going great....Sally is a model". Have you ever wondered what that must've been like for Ghandi's ex-girlfriends? (Indian Accent) "So Asha, how are things going for you?" "Oh...things are great....I'm dating...(awkward pause) Jesus."

All men think about is sex. All we think about are the many permutations of how we can siutate ourselves where we MIGHT POSSIBLY POTENTIALLY be able to have sex. It's in our systems, and we can't control it...it's ingrained. For instance, the other day I was walking down the street, and I saw the hottest blonde I've ever seen coming the other way. When she passed, I thought to myself 'Man, I bet those legs go all the way up!"......WHERE DID THAT COME FROM??? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? Wouldn't it be horrifying if her legs DIDN't go all the way up!! You take her home, you have a few drinks, things get hot and heavy, she takes off her dress, and she has 2 real feet and a pair of fake legs! "My legs don't go all the way up".

I tried to spice things up in the bedroom the other night, so I told my wife I wanted to try doggie-style. She said "Sure", whacked me in the face with a rolled up newspaper, and made me sleep outside.

I couldn't afford a laptop, so I invented the crotch-bottom. I can now read my email from anywhere in the world, but I refuse respond because I don't want to touch the keyboard.

I installed a dog whistle on my vacuum cleaner. My floors are clean, but my lawn is destroyed.

Treo pics #2: Vegas + Football Beer = 1 drunk Hag

Ok, so here are a few more old Treo pictures. These are of my first trip to Vegas (2/03)....the lights, the money, the over-the-top glitz that IS Vegas. The guys went out for the night, whilst my wife and my sister-in-law went out on their own, and so we decided to visit Ole' Vegas. What could be better than playing $2 craps next to crackheads at the Golden Nugget (not kidding)?? Ball, Harding, Hags the Elder (HTE...my brother), and The Hag (me). There may have been more people there (Fischer, Mallow, perhaps), but everything gets a little hazy once my foot leaves the cab and hits the curb (uh oh...).

So we went to one of the old casinos (I think it was the Golden Nugget) and played $2 craps for what seemed like an eternity. HTE craps out first, than Harding...Ball and I were in it for the long run. By that, I mean that we weren't losing EVERYTHING, and we ended up drinking like fish for free for quite awhile. By the time we left, I think both Ball and I had actually won ~$60.

Now we get to the point in the story where The Hag makes a crucial error in judgement. I saw a random guy walking down the strip with a GIGANTIC plastic football filled with what appeared to be some type of alcolholic beverage (testing later concluded that it was beer). Said gentlemen directed Ball and I to the "bohemoth football-sized libation" vendor. And there, at the door of the casino, was the sign that read something along the lines of "$1.99 48 ouncers". Here's where logic goes out the window: Why in the world would I PAY for something that I can easily get for free (AND pay for something that will go fetidly warm within minutes)??!?!??! It was that damn football, I tell's ya'! It was calling me...mocking me...questioning my manhood. So, with a gleam in my eye, I ordered my football...my golden whale (A'vast, ye mateys...beer ho!).

After 1 minute, it became clear to Ball and I that this was an unwise purchase due to the fact that 1) as I mentioned, these suckers got warm fast, and 2) the only way to drink out of the football was via a straw. 10 minutes later, footballs were completely consumed. 20 minutes later, I was completely schnookered (I was a stumbling mess). We met up with TStach and her sister at Harrah's, and that's about all I remember for that day...EXCEPT:

-Playing catch with the football
-I remember a woman selling shirts with pictures of cats on them, and I believe it was either Harding or HTE who said something like "Nice pussy" or something along those lines. Laughter ensued.
-I remember HTE making the comment re: "The Ayatollah of Gorgonzolah"
-Harding shouting at HTE "Dance, Monkey, Dance!!"
-I remember returning to the rooms later that night and kicking a room service tray (and all of it's contents) down the hallway. Ug..why did I rehash this nightmare?

Treo Pics #1

I just got a new Blackberry 7105t a few weeks ago, so I'm in the process of transitioning over from my Treo 600 (which, BTW, rocks as an organizer but SUCKS as a phone...maybe the 650 is better...whatever). In any case, I downloaded all the pictures off of my phone, and I'm posting them here piecemail.

These first 2 pics are very special: my first (and last) visit to Yankee Stadium in 2004. My sister-in-law got tickets to the Red Sox (Go baby!!) vs. the Yankees (BOOO!!) at Yankee Stadium through someone she works with. We all drove down together, and stopped in at Stan's shithole bar for a few libations prior to the game. Most of the patrons were Yankee fans (duh), but there was also a respectable Sox contingent present as well.

Most of the fans at the game were respectful, as were we, but there were a few annoying bastards around us who would not leave us alone (Ey, Joey...You sees dees guys down dere clappin' for da Sox? Ey, oh...my hair...don't mess with ma' hair!). 8th inning, in comes Mariano Rivera...and here comes the fans: "Dandman...Dandman coming...day Goodnight...Here gums the Dandman...Mr. Dandman, bring us a ring". Rivera, who I truly respect, ended up giving away 2 runs, and the Sox won the game. What was great about this was 1) the silence in the park after the loss and 2) the looks on the Yankee fan's faces...priceless. Yes, I've had the same look, but most people are used to that look on a Red Sox fan's face...but a Yankee fan?...oh, man. As we all know, the faces of Yankees fans across the world looked that same way in October 04', when the Sox finally won the Series again.

Long story short: The first picture is, obviously, of Yankee Stadium. The second picture is one of my brother symbolically giving the finger to all the Yankees fans at Stan's (especially the guy right behind him).

Not for the faint of heart...

I can't live with the lies anymore. I've built this happy little life for myself, but behind the blissful facade is a dirty little secret that I've hidden for the majority of my life, and it's time I come clean. Shame is a hard thing to live with, but broken pride is much, much worse. How can I keep a part of me secret, when after all, it's what makes me who I am? It's coming out day, and it's been a long time coming. What dark, personal mystery has caused such emotional anguish, you ask? My nub toe. Yes, that's right...my right big toe doesn't have a toenail*, and sadly, it never will. Today, I stand before you on the moutaintop, with my nub raised high, and I shout: I HAVE A REALLY FRIGGING UGLY TOE, AND I'M NOT GOING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE!!!!!

Gone are the sandal-less summers. Goodbye, steel-toes boots. Water mocassins in the locker room?...HA, NEVER AGAIN! No longer will I idly sit by as Foot Locker employees rain showers of mock down upon me. No, not I. From today forth, I am proud of my nub. My nub is my friend, my companion, my medal of honor. But fear not, faithful reader, I will only use nub's powers for good, never evil (aside from the occasional gross out joke, or scaring my children). My newfound confidence is solidified with the knowledge that I am not alone; there are legions of toe martyrs in the world longing for freedom. Join me, Brothers in Arms (or Toes)!! Together, we will conquer the prejudices that have long enslaved us!!





*I was going to explain how this happened to my toe, and it went a little sumthin' like dis...hit it!: "I am not alone in my suffering. Long ago, my grandfather was bitten by a radioactive spider, mutating his DNA, consequently bestowing upon him super-human abilities. But a much worse genetic after-effect had been wrought upon the male decendants...". Some of this is true...he was PROBABLY bitten by a spider some point in his life, and I do have other family members with the same affliction (I will not "out" them in this forum), but I used a little "poetic license" thereafter. The real reason is that I probably clipped my nail with a little too much "gusto", caused an infection, and had to have the nail surgically removed....probably...I'm not sure...but probably.

Wanna go hiking?

The National Park Service wants to create a $5.5 million dollar task force to eradicate marijuana growth in Sequoia National Park. Can anyone else think of a bigger waste of money for taxpayers? Yes, there are plenty of drugs in existence that negatively affect society (crack, meth, heroine, etc), but I truly believe that the government is fighting an uphill battle when it comes to pot. Marijuana is the "Google" of recreational drugs...everyone is using it. Most people perceive it to be as recreational as alcohol, and the demand will not be quenched.

A better solution would be to spend that $5.5 million on strengthening the borders, thus preventing AK-47 toting immigrants from planting their "Victory Gardens" in our National Parks. Or better yet, legalize pot, tax it, and give some of that money back to the taxpayers!!! If it were legal, the growers wouldn't be in the parks, and they certainly wouldn't have a use for AK-47's. Also, can you imagine the surplus of tax dollars that could be generated by businesses (B-to-C, and B-to-B) supporting this market??

It's ridiculous to think that the US government is spending money on initiatives like this when there are far many more deserving causes (curing cancer, hurricane victims, etc). Turn pot into a goverment profit center and use the resulting money to benefit US citizens, rather than bogarting the goods.

Enough of my ranting: Yabba-Zabba...You my only friend!!!

Gettin' up there

My birthday was yesterday...I just turned 31. That would mean that:

-10 years ago, I went out on a drinking binge in Hartford...ending up at the Russion Lady (I still have the shotglass)
-15 years ago, I received my drivers license

Holy crap!...It doesn't seem that long ago that I was in Junior High, stomaching the horrors of homeroom with Ms. "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP" Aronson. So what does this make me now: An an "older young man" or a "younger old man"? I'd like to refer to myself as a "distinguished gentleman", but I don't think that would fool anyone (I've never been a gentlemen, and the only thing that's ever been distinguished in my life was the occasional joint). I still feel young, but I'm definately starting to see the signs that I'm getting older:

-I hate when people walk on my lawn
-I can pontificate on the benefits of Blue Cross over Aetna, and be passionate about the argument.
-I've discuss politics and religion more than I'd like to admit in the past few years (Thanks, Bush).
-I've gone from drinking Bud in college, to fine malted brews during/after college, only to find myself back at Bud again.
-I notice other people's clothes more than I ever did (hey, nice shirt).
-I spend a LOT of Friday nights at home these days (this is more a product of having a young child, but hey, that's a reason, too).
-I'm older than a large portion of the players in the NBA, MLB, NFL, etc.
-The "Far Side" comics have been discontinued since Jan 1, 1995 (10 YEARS!!).
-I have a lot of grey hair (thankfully, the carpets DO NOT match the drapes...yet).

There are many more reason why I feel more "more young than old", but there's too many to list. I'm a firm believer that age is just a number...it's more about how you feel and how your pants fit. I feel pretty damn good at this point in my life, but the pants are a little snug...looks like it's treadmill time.

The Peanuts Gang

Can these people do anything without confining everyone else to a "peanut-less" prison? This kid is scarred for life because he ate a snickers prior to "macking on his boo". I'm not going to drill into this anymore...this is my last peanut allergy post, but all I can say is that if you're allergic to nuts, stay out of my way. I ate a ton of pecan pie for Thankgiving, and I'm afraid that my fumes might cause you to break out in hives.

I'll just keep updating this blog with new articles as I come across them.

You've Got Mail

I received one of the funniest mis-directed emails in my Gmail account today, and I have to share it. I usually just ignore these, but I couldn't let this one go for obvious reasons:

"...you are absolutely right, hov confirmed this for me yesterday on im.which is even more awesome. i'm pretty confident that tiff put A2M up therehimself, because it would be stupid for anyone else to do it, because, letsface it, that is kind of his thing, and he would be proud to see it upthere.That would be like making fun of me for my grotesquely large amount of pubic hair, because my pubic mane is actually a point of pride for me, so thankyou.You stay classy Sachems.

LT Burgundy

ps. attached is a picture of the view from the fourth floor lounge of thehouse i'm moving into in Valparaiso in a few weeks. The land in thebackground is the beaches of Vina del Mar. And the water is BahiaValparaiso, and the huge glowing orb is the moon, and the reddish dot abovethat is mars. no duda."


My response:

"Um...I think you have the wrong email address. I'm not Marder.

P.S. I wish I could erase the last 30 seconds of my life...then I wouldn't need to know anything about your "pubic mane" (I'm vomiting as I write this). Good luck in Chile!!"

Am I the only one who thinks this is funny? I'll update this post if D writes back.

In my house, we abide by the laws of physics!!!

I've had this one nagging thought for quite awhile: If I were stuck on the ledge of a building, would I be able to pull myself up? We've all seen this scenario before...Bruce Willis, Tom Cruise, Slyverster Stallone, Homer Simpson.....these guys have all wound up hanging by their fingertips from a [insert large immovable object here], and been able to get off that ledge by sheer determination and will. Ok, let's suspend our disbelief for one second and say that yes, John McClain was able avoid the terrorist, but by some form of misfortune, he finds himself in the aforementioned predicament, hanging on for his dear life. This is where my belief suspension starts to wobble like the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. The man was just shot at, beat up, stepped on glass, and now he has the strength to pull himself up by his fingertips??!? Whatever...

Where am I going with this? Have you ever tried to do a pull up? Just one?? I can do a few from a bar, and it can be a somewhat physically challenging exercise to do (6' 2.5", 230lbs....you try it). So I started testing my abilities when it comes to the "ledge predicament", and I've come to the conclusion that if I'm ever stuck on that ledge, I have 2 options: scream like a son-of-a-bitch and hope that someone hears me, or pray to God that my boxers are not white. I'm sure that there are probably people in the world that can do this, but I don't think that I personally know one. Try it out...let me know. Maybe I'm doing it wrong...maybe I'm missing the adrenaline that comes with the danger...who knows? If anyone can do it (or have done it) let me know.

This is what happens when I stay at home...

Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!!!!

The voice mail that I left went something along the lines of "It's just not working out" or "It's not you, it's me". In any case, yes, I quit my job of 36 days yesterday, and I did it over the phone (voice mail first, then a followup call with my boss)!!! I would've done it face-to-face, but my boss was never in the office. I think he was shocked, because he thought that I was actually enjoying my time there. He was ALSO very pissed because I didn't give any notice. Look, I was only there for a month...my TPS reports will not be missed. Anyway, I guess I owe this following list to the people that told me that I should never leave my last company:

Top 10 Things that I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs during my 36 day tenure (but didn't, because I wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible):

10) "TURN OFF THAT STUPID 'Heart of Glass' RINGER ON YOUR PHONE, BIATCH!!!" Just because you like Debbie Harry (and actually have her 80's haircut), it doesn't mean that everyone else should have to hear it whenever your cell goes off.

9) "WOULD YOU PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP THE GOD-DAMNED HAMMERING!!!". They were doing construction in the office all day long, and it was extremely loud.

8) "DOES THE HEAT GO ANY HIGHER THAN 40 IN THIS OFFICE?!?!? I'M FREEZING!!!". I'm not normally a cold person, but this place was like a meat locker. And there weren't any "lookers" in the office whose breasts would've made this situation bearable.

7) "YOU'RE THE WORST SALES PERSON I'VE EVER WORKED WITH. RT 1 DODGE IS HIRING, JACKASS!!". I worked with the most annoying, conniving, ineffective sales person...that's all I'm going to say about that.

6) "BUSINESS CASUAL???" I just don't get it...if you're not in front of clients, why can't you wear jeans? Who am I dressing up for?

5) "I'M FLYING OUT TO CALIFORNIA FOR THREE DAYS FOR ONE LOUSY MEET&GREET?? ONE?!???!?" No comment...ok, one comment....this company knows how to waste money.

4) "100 HUNDRED MILLION SHARES OUTSTANDING FOR THIS FUCKING SHITHOLE OF A COMPANY??!?!?" This little detail remained hidden until after my first week. Goodbye options...

3) "HEY, MR. CEO, WHEN YOU WALK BY YOUR EMPLOYEES IN THE HALLWAY, LOOK UP AND SAY "HI"!!!! AT LEAST MAKE AN EFFORT TO LOOK THEM IN THE EYES!!!". I don't think he does this because he knows that a lot of people are going to be screwed when they get laid off in a few months. Guilty, perhaps?

2) "THIS PLACE IS A SAUSAGE FACTORY!!!". Seriously, I heard guys arguing about who was the hottest girl in the company, and the top choice was a 40-year-old mother of two. Second place went to the Russian developer with a mustache.

AND

1) "I QUIT THIS SHITHOLE!! SMELL'YA LATER, SUCKERS!!". I really wish I had the cajones to do this, but I don't, OK? Do you?

Vegas Redux...

I actually found a couple of pictures of Harding when he hit the wall in Vegas...I guess I was either half asleep or shit-faced (we were watching and gambling on football all day long) when I took these photos. Looks like the original picture that I posted was not that far off. The photos are a little grainy (I took them with my Treo), but I think they say a lot about Harding's physical condition at 11pm that night. Note the cockeyed hat, the half-shut eyes......he barely ate any of the communal onion rings, which is VERY odd (I once witnessed him mainline 50 cc's of bacon grease). The decor of the Victorian diner leaves much to be desired. Yes, those are stained glass windows...What are they stained with? I don't want to know.

I always run into people I "sorta" know

Funny thing happened on the way to lunch at the Greek restaurant the other day...I ran into Nick the bartender. Nick used to work at the bar formerly known as Hannah's (f.k.a The Sam McGuire) in lovely downtown Meffah'. I used to resent him somewhat because he could never remember my name (which is still the case), BUT I was wholely impressed that he recognized me. He was picking up his gyro, I was waiting for my lamb kabob, and we recognized each other immediately. He's an assistant vice principal now, which is good for him, but I sorta wish he was still a bartender. He let our tab "ride" on so many occasions, real tears were shed when we found out that he no longer worked at Hannahs. In fact, I'm getting a little weepy just thinking about it...mmmmmm, free drinks.

Hags got game

I was staying at the Sacramento Sheraton this past week, and who walks onto the elevator but Detroit Pistons center Rasheed Wallace. He is one tall dude, but I couldn't help but notice that 1) he looks like he's 50 years old and 2) he's very skinny. He looked so frail, I almost posted up on him right there. The ole' lefty sky hook...he wouldn't know what hit him. This got me thinking a little bit though: would someone who was 6'2" 230lbs be able to whup a guy who's 7' 230lbs (230 soaking wet, BTW)? Ya know, call me crazy, but I think I could take him!!! Sure, he has the reach, but he's top heavy and I have a better center of gravity (at least I should, it's 8" closer to the ground). Setting would be important: Basketball court, he wins...local bar, I win (after buying him large quantities of hard liquor...all's fair). Of course, his stamina is off the charts....that's probably my downfall right there. I'd have to end it quickly...I think I'd shoot the knee, and go for the takedown right away. Then it'd be ground and pound from there.

Ok, no more Spike TV for the Hag, I've been watching WAY too much Ultimate Fighter lately.

Hag's Hollywood Gossip

One of my wife's best friends has very close connections in the entertainment industry. Word on the street is that KH is not really pregnant with TC's baby. She's wearing a prosthetic stomach, and she'll never have the baby (sounds like an impossible mission to me). Also, JT is bi-sexual (no surprise this rumor's stayin' alive). It's so entertaining to hear my wife talk about this bullshit, because it's almost as if she's personally involved in the relationships. However, I can't help but think that if Hollywood can coverup stories like this, than they'd have absolutely no problem squashing a bug like me. In case of my sudden disappearance, I want to settle up right now:

1)My brother can have my baseball card collection. "15 Carlos Quintana rookie cards!!!!...I'm rich, I tells ya, RICH!!!".
2)Ball can have my Blackberry AND my Treo...it's about time he got a cell phone from this century.
3)Harding can have my Hemmingway's coaster from college...yes, I still have it.
4)My wife and daughter can have everything else...
5)Boys...Avenge me...AVENGE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Argle Bargle

I recently started working with a guy, "T", who mumbles when he speaks. I can only pick up 20% of what he actually says...my brain filters out 60% of the mumbling, and uses some sort of fuzzy logic to piece together whats left over. And it's not so much "mumbling", as it's more "low-talking", combined with "fast talking", combined with a "wicked-pissah" Boston accent. I'm not kidding...he's probably the most incoherent person that I've ever spoken with. My question is: How does someone like this get hired?? Is there an affirmative action clause for the perpetually marble-mouth'd?? Did he slip through the cracks?

At first, I thought it was me...I thought "Maybe I've finally done it...the cumulation of a 30-year lifetime of utter debauchery has blown out my eardrums!!!!". Could it be that the "Ghost of Christmas' Past" had come back with a vengeance, and wrought havoc upon my cochleas?? No, this was not the case...I slyly confirmed with another co-worker that "T" is difficult to comprehend:

The Hag: Hey, um...did you catch what "T" just said?
Co-Worker: Only a little bit.
The Hag: I can't understand a friggin' word that guy says.
Co-Worker: Yeah, me neither. I try not to talk talk too much to him.
The Hag: What's his deal?!?! He's worse than Mayor Menino. Let's go grab a taco...

With taco consumed, I began to formulate an answer (Mexican food clears the mind): The theorized answer is somewhat complicated, involving office politics and human interaction, but let's start with an example of the types of conversations that I've personally had with "T":

"T": Argle Bargle Biffle Baffle Pissah Blaffle XYZ.
The Hag: Huh? Please repeat what you said.
"T" (rolls eyes, lowers voice): I said that the technology used in this client's case was XYZ.
The Hag: Oh, I see.

The answer is that "T" only mumbles to newer employees. He does this so he can PURPOSELY repeat himself in front of other workers and managers, in order to make it seem as though his "nugget of information" was SO advanced that he needed to slow down and explain it to his lowly peers. He's mumbling ON PURPOSE, thus causing him to repeat his statements!!! In doing so, he's trying to build himself up at the expense of others. This answer explains how he got through the interview process, made it past HR, and landed smack-dab in my workplace. Very calculating...very conniving. That's why, one of these days, I'll send a company wide email which will fully exploit his tactics. "T" must be stopped...clear diction and pronunciation will once again RULE THE OFFICE!!!

Or I'll just quit...whichever comes first.