We are the World!

Don't bother wondering why this exists; your head will explode.

Just sit back and enjoy it. Don't fight it. No matter how scary it is, don't fight it.


Alice in Tranceland

I never really liked the Alice in Wonderland cartoon as a kid. Now it's got all kinds of faux-stoner cred as a psychedelic mind-fuck, but honestly: if the best thing you can do with your mushrooms is pop in a DVD and sit on your couch, you're doing it wrong. Go to nature. Find yourself a big open field. Love everything.

Anyway, that doesn't make this thing any less cool. All the sounds are from the movie itself. Give credit to the 19-year-old Australian who made it.

Shameless self promotion

If you haven't seen it yet, you should check out my newest project, Think Outside the Bob. It's a blog about the horrors of corporate life and the awful people you have to deal with on a daily basis. It made more sense to post my rants there, since this little unread haven is more about my life in general and not every post can relate to hating work.

Plus, I have co-contributors at TOTB! There are plenty of people out there pissed off at their corporate overlords and I figure giving them a place to vent, rant and rave, or just read stories about other people's suffering is kind of like a community service.

I'm still sick. I feel okay during the day, but sleeping is still difficult and when I wake up in the morning I spend a good 10 minutes coughing my lungs out. I need to go to a doc before my health insurance dries up; I think I may have walking pneumonia.


Hey Mister!

I found your cat!

Stuck in the gutter.

I'm bummed.

I'm officially laid off in one week, my car is dead and I can't replace the battery because the screw bolting on the electrical cables is stripped, Kat is leaving in a week for Alaska and will be gone three months, and my stomach hurts from eating way too much Korean BBQ last night.

But at least I don't have Open Mouth Disease.


Fightin' at the Movies

Kat's cousin Julia showed up at the apartment on Saturday and she decided we should go see Iron Man. The girls were fine, but I was too wasted to even recall what movies were, I declined the drive. But she offered, and Kat said she was buying, so I was obligated.

We got to the Arc Light Dome in Hollywood just before the 11:30 showing. There was no line. We had never been to this place before, but apparently you had to buy specific seat numbers rather than just getting some tickets.

The hitch was the ticket counter lady was retarded. I don't say that to be mean; she was actually retarded. That weird mush-mouthed-Peter's-new-boss-at-the-brewery retarded. Between that and being super ripped we couldn't understand a word she was saying. All we wanted were some tickets.


I'm not sure why women in Hollywood insist on wearing those Thai tranny hooker tube top dresses, but being screamed at by one is surreal. You just want to pay her $20 and head to an alley, but here she was insulting us for our obvious desire to hang around the ticket booth and fuck things up for everybody else.

I turned around and gave her the stink eye, and muttered something under my breath, but it wasn't enough. The insults kept coming.

Finally we got some tickets. 'BOUT TIME! came the cat call, and I lost it. In my head I was this guy, but I was baked out of my mind so I probably looked like this guy.


I bellowed as loud as I could into this tiny woman's face. I'm not usually prone to outbursts, but this had to be done. I got right in her face too. I mean I really screamed the loudest I was capable of screaming.

She cringed.

"It wasn't me."

You yelled at the wrong girl you dumb motherfucker. Aw hell no you did NOT just yell at a girl. That's some weak ass shit.

My attacker was still hiding in the book depository, and my skull was flapping in the breeze while my brain rolled around the trunk of my Cadillac.

"Well I had to say it." I yelled in the general direction of the crowd. I couldn't even focus on the faces to tell who was talking to me. There was no way I was going to win this, especially after scoring a direct hit on a civilian in my first volley. I fled.

Of course the wall of glass doors on the front of the lobby aren't actually for entering, so everyone got to watch the three of us try to figure that out for another five minutes before we had to double back and walk past everyone AGAIN to find the actual entrance.

We made our way to the concession stand where my girlfriend's cousin got popcorn and a soda. I wanted popcorn and a soda more than the sweet love of god, but I couldn't bring myself to wait in another line because I knew our assailants were coming, and the innocent girl who I'd yelled at had a sizable boyfriend who probably wanted to beat the shit out of me.

I looked back through those non-functional glass doors and saw the traffic jam at the ticket booth. I didn't have the cognitive capacity to foresee that they would invariably ask for the best available tickets to the same goddamn movie and sit right next to us, so at the time all I could do was flash a smug smile of satisfaction and follow my girlfriend off into the theatre wondering where the hell we were and what we were doing there.



For the last few months the company I work for has been doing really poorly. Actually, it's really only been one solid month of bad news.

We don't have any work, the sales team can't close a deal, and the people who work on things outside my department aren't faring any better. Rumors have been flying around about the office closing or moving or the company shutting down entirely. When pressed, management would only offer up helpful nuggets like, "I haven't heard anything about that," "Don't worry about it. Nothing's going on," or "This is news to me. I'll look into it." Finally things came to a head and the owner of the company said there'd be a big announcement on Monday.

So everyone spent the whole weekend worried we would lose our jobs or have to alter our commutes to a new location or other horrible things because they left us up in the air like that. We were all morosely ready to hear the worst and just have the satisfaction of knowing. I was pretty confident I was safe though, because the business I work on is the company's priority. It's the breadwinner. There's only one other person who can do what I do and she just started, so even she doesn't know everything.

So imagine my surprise when they laid off the entire department.

There's only one other person who works on what I work on, but we had a sizable (at one time) Creative Department working on various pieces of business. I literally thought my boss was joking when he said he had to let it all go. He's not usually one for jokes in poor taste like that, but it just seemed to random and unexpected that I thought it had to be a joke. All told six of us were cut, and as near as I can tell about 20 - 25 people throughout the office. Basically if you're not in Sales (and you shouldn't be, since you're the ones who couldn't sell a piece of business to keep the company afloat) then you're out. And of course the management.

Sorry. The bitterness comes and goes. Like I said, I expected to be safe, so this really came out of left field and hit me in the face. I can finish out the month with them to qualify for a more than likely paltry severance package. I only say that because when we asked what it entailed we got "It's based on tenure." I haven't even been there a year.

Awesome. So I have in-laws visiting and I have to be job hunting. I have my girlfriend leaving for three months to go work in Alaska and I have to be job hunting. I have to make rent. I have to fix my car. I have to not fall behind on the credit card debt I've slowly whittled down to a manageable sum. I have something else going on...oh yeah, getting MARRIED in OCTOBER. This is a huge wrench.

Plus it totally throws me off what I was going to write about: my Saturday night when I screamed at a woman to shut up in Hollywood. But that story's too good to go by the wayside so it'll pop up later.

Kat's been really positive about things, which is good. I feel supported, and I guess the effect hasn't really set in yet (I'm still wide-eyed and staring at my airbag trying to figure out how my car wrapped itself around a telephone pole), but I'm not too upset. I mean, I haven't cried or anything. That says something, right? It's a big traumatic event; other people cried. I'm doing okay I guess.

I've said it before: I wanted this to be my last desk job. Now that I'm not leaving on my terms I guess it's forcing me to put my money where my mouth is. Kat says this is my kick in the pants from the universe to really commit to my writing and start making money doing it. If we need to move to a cheaper apartment or start budgeting tighter or whatever we need to do for me to be able to reach out for my goal, she says she's down for it.

Great. Now if I can just stop being terrified I'm good to go.


Crawling the Waffle

Crawling the Waffle (adj) to engage in repetetive or useless corporate action, fully realizing that your efforts will not be appreciated, recognized or even used despite upper management directly requesting said action; to acknowledge the absolute stupidity of middle-manager types and their bizarre dedication to corporate entities

I'm not really sure how it came about, but the term "crawling the waffle" is my favorite office phrase (other than "bringing the rigor") because I think there's something about the way it comes lolling out of your mouth when you say it aloud; it really does make you feel disgusted and fed up and apathetic all at once. It's perfect for corporate culture.

When it's 4:03 on a Friday and you have no work yet you can't leave the office because your micromanager boss insists something might happen, you're crawling the waffle.

When your boss calls you at home after hours and asks you to prepare one of those motivational posters featuring an eagle and "hold on to it, just in case," (this happened to me, seriously) you're crawling the waffle.

And when your company hires someone as your "senior" team member at nearly double your salary and expects you to train them up before reporting to them, you're crawling the waffle big time.

Sex Trek

I don't care how nerdy I'm revealing myself to be, this cracks my shit up.

Sick of being sick

I hate being sick. I don't know anybody who really enjoys it, but I think I hate it more than most.

For the past week now I've had a sore throat which has slowly migrated to my lungs. The thing is I feel okay; I haven't missed work and I only really felt bad the first two days. For some reason though every time I try to lie down to sleep I can't stop coughing.

It's not polite, clear your throat coughing, either. It's wheezing, hacking, horrible I'm-65-and-I've-smoked-all-my-life coughing. The only way I can get any sleep is to take Nyquil, which means the next day I'm in this weird narcotic fog all day.

So I've been riding the Nyquil Express, a horrible rollercoaster of black dreamless sleep punctuated by discombobulated, detached mornings and lethargic afternoons.

By now you've probably thought to yourself, "Go to the doctor, jackass." The thing is I keep convincing myself it's almost over and I don't want to eat the $50 co-pay for a doc to tell me to get some rest. Which of course is the perfect comedic timing for throat cancer to show up.


Life in the rumor mill.

It's amazing how easy it is to upset the precious dynamic that is office politics. Today the rumor mill is whirling that because the head honcho is in town that we must all be doomed (because obviously he is here to announce the shutdown of our office).

I have to admit that the amount of work I've had in the past three weeks and the overall atmosphere here would lend credence to that theory, but when you consider the source, a guy whose department is being downsized at the end of this month and who is obviously (and rightfully) bitter about it, I have to think he's just trying to poison the well.

That being said, I really don't want to get thrown out on the street today.