Samoas Showdown.

I just read in the news that some Girl Scout Troop in Wisconsin is suing customers who ordered cookies and then failed to pay up. They say it's a last ditch effort to collect the debt, after every other resource was used.
One of the customers owes almost $1,500... on cookies! $1,500!?
Thin Mints are great but COME ON! That's ridiculous. Who in the hell eats that many cookies? I could never suck down more than $700 worth! Not to mention the amount those idiots must've spent on milk; you can't eat that many cookie without milk?
What's the world coming to?
And who gets behind on their cookie debt? Granted, they're not the Mafia but I wouldn't want to be indebted to the Girls Scouts of America! They're like the Illuminati but in skirts, and beanies... uh, okay maybe not but they're mean... okay, not mean but I wouldn't want to come across troop 666 in a dark alley somewhere!
Can you imagine the embarrassment?
"Yeah, they gave me to the end of the week before they break my legs. Damnit I love the Samoas too much!"

A Thirty Year Old Stockboy Walks Into A Bar...

Sounds like a joke, doesn't it? Well, my reality isn't always as humorous as I'd like to pretend.
I have to admit though, turning THIRTY really isn't that big a deal if you take into consideration that I really haven't changed in the last ten years or so. I mean, sure, my hairline is receding and my waistline is expanding but it's not like I'm a responsible adult or anything. I'm still floundering around, hoping I'll trip over a purpose in life, a career, medical benefits, etc.
If Peter Pan was the boy who refused to grow up I am that awkward prepubescent who refuses to stand up and walk to the chalkboard of life because I'm afraid everyone will laugh at my erection. It happens. Don't judge.

The End of My Twenties

How was the last day of my first three decades on this mudball we call Earth? Good Question...

(Let's skip all of the work related stuff. I'm trying not to obsess. All of that stress just keeps me reeling.) I had an early day at work and decided to try and renew my driver's license before it expires tomorrow. One problem! The DMV is either downtown, or in BF Northern Chicago. I opt for BF. I get off the bus at a conveniently close stop. WRONG! I wandered around for close to an hour before finding my way back to the road I needed to be on. Stopped and asked for directions. I was still a twenty minute bus ride away from where I needed to be, and then a 2 mile walk to the actual DMV. Of course it is packed! I take a seat and wait and wait and wait. In the meantime the fattest Mexican family ever, and I don't mean to offend Mexicans or fatties, sat down next to me. It was amazing. The Dad. Wow. The Mom. Good Lord, eat a salad. The one year old baby girl looked like she would pop if you dropped her; burst at the seams. The chubby son, kept rubbing up against me and talking to me with the paper-bag puppet stretched over his pudgy paw. Finally, they call my number. I get in line for my new license and of course I have no cash... I hadn't planned on going... so I hike back to an ATM, a mile away and then back to the DMV to get my new license. The picture? Don't ask...
[Picture, if you can all of the nervous laughter, and hysterical mutterings that I was vomiting up the entire time. People walking by me gave me a wide berth as they glimpsed the wild look in my eyes, and the almost homicidal smile plastered across my face.]
Then I walk in the door and my favorite roommate ever, my LABBUR, gives me an early birthday present. Season 1 of The Greatest American Hero. Hell Yeah!

I guess the day could've been worse. Let's hope my thirties start out better than my twenties ended. Cross your fingers!

I'm Losing It

I'm not good at waiting.
But I have to. I was told decisions probably won't be made thise week. Oh, and when they are made the pay raise (if approved) won't go into effect for another few weeks...
So I have no money. My current paychecks are a joke. They barely pay for rent and groceries. I'm slipping further and further into debt each week. I'm bringing all this stress home with me at night and probably taking it out on my girlfriend, nice guy. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I'm developing an ulcer.

I was going to fix this. I was looking for another outlet. I was job hunting. I was going to find a way to alleviate the stress and hopefully make more money. I was hoping to see an end to this crap, but now I'm in a holding pattern. Waiting.
Aaaarrrrrrggggghhhhh!!!!!

Mr. & Mrs. East 3rd Street

I have this friend, a good college buddy and old roommate, and nine years ago I stood by and watched him get married in historic downtown Annapolis.
He was the first friend of mine to take the plunge, and I was completely in awe.
Needles to say after one of your closest friends gets married, things change. I moved out and transferred universities. They moved in together, and eventually started a family. Today is their Anniversary. (I remember every year because tomorrow's my birthday. It helps.)
So buddy, Congratulations. In nine years you have accomplished more than I would've, and probably did expect. When, eventually I follow suit and get married... Patience, Honey... I hope to be as good a father and husband as I'm sure you are.

I Can't Help But Wonder...

What does a Raspberry Beret taste like?

On A Blue Towel

The future glistens
names
faces
days to come
storms to endure
someday
there they go, never to be captured again
slipping away
possibiliies fade & dry
dream no more

The Waiting Game

Three days of stressing & worrying about what to say, how to ask for what I need, what is too much, what is too little, is this what I really want, what will I do if, what happens when and it all comes down to a 1 minute meeting.
I say, "I need."
They say, "We'll get back to you."
And now... I wait. Patience, not one of my stronger qualities.
1 hour & 23 minutes have gone by so far.
I need a beer!
Thanks honey! How did you know?

Nanika atta?

Just wanted to abuse my blog to say hello to my good friend KD, who's living oversees now in Japan. Hope you're having a good time and enjoying everyday.
I'll see you when you get back.
Kakkoii.

Bazooka Hotep.

It's funny the small things that can make your day, isn't it?
A phone call from an old friend.
A certain song.
A hopscotch court left on the sidewalk by some young vandal.
Watching some old person slip on a patch of ice.
These are life's little jewels that make you smile.

I found 2 big bags of Bazooka Joe bubblegum in the clearance rack of my grocery store for 50 cents each. Hell yeah, it's Bazooka Joe. You might break a tooth. You'll get a funny little comic strip. The flavor dies in exactly 23 chews! That's awesome! It's on clearance! I wonder why?

Here's why... the wrappers, the comics, knock-knock jokes, and fortunes are all in Egyptian! Egyptian! At least, I think it's Egyptian. (I don't actually read Egyptian but the writing looks a lot like the writing from that cult in Young Sherlock Holmes. Ramatep! Ramatep!) The bags were in English, just nothing else. So now I can't really enjoy the hilarious exploits of Bazooka Joe and company. I didn't even learn any new knock-knock jokes! Damn you, Cruel Fate! I guess the silver lining is that at least I didn't break a tooth, yet. Yet!

STRE$$ED OUT!

Q: What can make a grown man break down and cry himself to sleep like a little baby?
A: Money. Or more to the point; the lack of money.

For about six months now I've been working in shipping & receiving. I like the company, I don't mind the work but I haven't been this broke since I was in college. I've been scraping from paycheck to paycheck and dipping into my overdraft protection every DAMN time.
So I got off my ass a couple weeks ago and started looking for part-time restaurant/bar work to supplement my income, or even replace my current job with something else. Not a peep. No calls. No emails. Nada. Nothing until this week. Now I've had two tentative job offers.
Then of course my work calls a meeting with me and we have The Talk.
"We really like you. We want to keep you if we can. What do you need from us to stay on?"
So now apparently I can march into the office Monday and make my demands and, if at all possible, they'll try to meet my needs.
Great, right?
I don't know. If they meet my demands, which you better believe will call for a significant pay increase, then I wait around for another three weeks to see the difference in my paychecks. If they can't satisfy me and I start moonlighting in a bar then I have to work it into my current schedule, train for several shifts, and most likely wait for three more weeks to see any extra money. I'm screwed. I have no money. My next paycheck is rent. If it wasn't for my Saintly Girlfriend, whom I've been sponging off of for too long now, I'd be selling my body on the streets. Believe me, nobody wants that to happen.
Gawd, I wish I could sell an egg or something! I'd go to a sperm bank but they don't pay well and in twenty years I get mugged by some strange asshole who looks exactly like me!
I guess I'll have to play the waiting game and hope my Tax Refund shows up in time (Yeah Right), either that or... I don't know...

I wish I could be one of those people who say money doesn't matter. Cause it sure does seem to ruin too many of my days.

You Let Me Know How That Tastes.

How many folks out there know what a Mock Turtle is? Any Lewis Caroll fans? The Mock Turtle is fictional animal from Alice's adventures through wonderland...

Well, how many of you have heard of Mock Turtle Soup? (Something I discovered at work today.) Mock Turtle Soup actually has 0% Mock Turtle in the actual recipe. Odd? It is 'traditionally' made by boiling a calf's head in water. Eventually you take out the head of the calf and slice off the meat, which is then added to the broth before serving. Sometimes the actual calf's brain can be used as a garnish....

Does Campbell's know about this? Is there a Chunky's version?
Hm, all of the sudden I wouldn't mind a finger in my chili...

Look Ma I Gotta Blog!

I figured, why not? It seems these days that everyone and their mother has a blog. I have just as much to say as the next hypocritical, egocentric, midly neurotic, directionless boob.
I can blog, right?
I don't need to know the secret handshake. There's no initiation ceremony concerning butterscotch syrup and a ravenous emu, is there? Is there?

No. So here I am. With a blank page on which to write my rantings, ravings and everything in between. Something to fiddle with when my block is in the way. Something to work with when I can't flesh out the details. Something to do on a slow day at work... Not everything will makes sense. Not everything will be good. Some of it might even suck.
Let's see how it goes, shall we?