stale?

so i havent posted anything in a couple of days, not because i've been too busy or too pre-occupied, but  because there's been nothing worth commenting on lately.  the last few days have been very run of the mill and i guess that's a good thing. No emotional ups or downs, nothing stupid at work, nothing crazy at home.  My little minions at work are doing what their told, my big house is empty now, and the emptiness brings quiet, i like the quiet.
 i've got a million stories to tell, stories of painting bridges for tuition money, tales of tragic environmental pollution caused at the hands of yours truly. One day i'll tel you about the time i beat the shit out of the guy who was fucking my fiance, he was still in my house AND naked, that's one for the ages. there are the nights on the road playing in night clubs smaller than my living room, then fucking every vag in the place. There are days that bring the evil stench of the bottom feeders of society to the surface just for a glimpse of what "real life" is like only to push them back to the recesses of society's mind hoping to forget about them.
 yeah i've taken some writers liberties with some of my stories already, that's what i do, i'm a self centered ego star, I feel i am larger than life, so i make my stories larger than life!  as you read these, remember that i will probably not go down in history as the greatest storyteller in history, but i will go down on your little sister, and probably your wife. Look out guys, i'm cumming on what's yours.

Happy Valentines Day.....

People say that i'm dealing with a lot of anger issues,  I'm hard to get along with and i can't handle when i'm wrong.
 I'd tend to agree. I don't care, but i agree none the less.
 i'm not the easiest to get along with, but only because i've already figured out what works best. If i ask you to do something a certain way, DO IT, don't question me, don't try and figure out a better way to do it, just fucking do it like i said and be done with it.
 I am a total My way or the Highway kind of guy. i'm not angry most of the time, most of the time my disappointment in the way a situation that i have delegated turns out, manifests itself as anger. so i'f i'm appear mad at you, i'm not, i'm profoundly disappointed in the way you've handled yourself.

 My current room mate was once my girlfriend,  up until last month she was my girlfriend, i guess you'd go so far as to put the dreaded " life partner" label on her. we'd been together for years, bought a house have a couple of cars, the whole works.  Last month she decides to mix things up a little bit and go in search of a piece of strange.  when she fessed up to her crime, i was shocked and stunned, but not surprised.  i'm not exactly the picture of prince charming here. I managed to keep my emotions in check, not yell, or scream, or even hit anything.  All i said was " I'm extremely disappointed in you"  That was the last thing i said to her.  We've been co-habitating in this house for the better part of 6 weeks now and haven't said a word to each other. Until this morning.   over coffee, one simple phrase has completely fixed my problem.  " Fuck You"  came out of my mouth.  i'm not sure what's going to happen now, i'm not sure i really care. if she feels the need to suck some dick that's not mine, i'm okay with that. She just wont be living in my house while she's doing it.

for all you girls out there who say the men are the worst part of your relationships, that men are dogs.... screw you too.  i'm living proof that no matter how nice or how mean you are to a woman they will always find a way to make you feel like a second rate citizen.  The women in today's society are the real problem, they're only out to satisfy their vagina and they've had people like Oprah, Ellen, Rosie and a host of other single name powerful females tell them it's okay to do so.  It seems that as soon as a man cheats on a woman he's an asshole, but if a woman cheats on a man she's Liberated and Free.    Fuck That.

 if i cheat on a woman it's because the current one i've got is useless in the sack.  If i cheat on her, she's not staying around much longer.  IF a woman cheats on me, it's because i'm an emotional brick and wont talk to her, she'll keep that going as long as she can, get the emotional connect from some tiny dicked tad pole and come home to get fucked silly. Women of this generation are too empowered, or so they think, and they have no idea what to do with all this perceived power. 

Don't Tell Me I Can't Do It

Don't tell me i can't do it.
 you give me control over the second largest budget in the division, exactly 70% of the biggest one. Then, you give me 20% of the staff AND expect me to exceed the previous years budget by 15%. You set me up for failure, but i Fucking showed you didn't i? 3 people on my staff me, a cripple and a retard, so basically it's me against the world and i killed it!  No only did i beat my targets for this year but i did more business than the biggest fish in the pond. I AM THE MAN!!!  now kindly eat my dick and find me some new staff.

 I can sell anything, just motivate me.  aparently i was motivated.

Leave the guy alone.

So , on the drive to the office this morning, the national standard for public broadcasting in Canada ( aka the cbc) aired a program that in essence destroyed a 30- something year old man for sleeping with a woman. and like every good ambulance chaser, i turned it up and tuned in.
 here's the story in a nutshell. this guy's 30ish years old, in an open relationship ( not married) with a woman for a long time.  the man decides to run for the mayors office of a large city. During his campaign he has sleeps with another woman would could be beneficial to his future career. The people he's running against find out and tee off of this poor guy's reputation. next thing you know the CBC gets a hold of this, and it's open season on guy's who sleep around.
 so this "expert panel" of super conservative middle class house wives gets together and hauls in 1 liberal-ish man to " add balance" to the discussion.  The women spent the better part of the show pining for the 1930's  leave it to beaver family model  saying that there's no excuse for this man's actions. Well you know what, i say props to the guy for Givin' it to the beaver!  and the guy on the panel agreed with me. he's a 30 year old who's not commited to a relationship, so why not have sex with other people?  He's allowed, he's not hurting anybody.

 so here are the questions i ask about this situation:
1) now that the media is in a frenzy over this, did anybody stop and ask his "partner" how she felt about the situation?  the press has spent the better part of 2 days dragging this guy through the mud, saying he's a dog and unable to do his job properly because of hi actions. Has anybody from the press actually asked anybody involved in the situation to comment, or is this all speculation?
2) WHO CARES???  is the new's that fucking slow today that you have to tell me that the mayoral candidate for toronto fucked his secretary??? dude! I fuck my secretary, i don't make the news.  but let me tell you it should make the news, if this guy gets front page coverage for banging a 20 year old broad, i'm gunnin' for the front page of the Times! I'll bring the cleaner in for a threesome if that helps.

 all i'm saying is the hairy legged left wing dykes that run the CBC should find a real story to report on, and leave the sexual adventures of a 30year old man to HBO, at least they'll have better film quality.

so, when i'm not happily droning away in my little star trek like stations, i like to think of my self as a bit of an amateur chef.  More like a line cook who just graduated from the fryer to the salamander, but a chef none the less.
 i've got all the fancy toys, cast iron this, and stainless steel that, fancy wooden cutting boards made of species of trees that i can't pronounce. Hell I've even gone as far as to fly to japan to purchase a single knife for my collection. The flight was a business expense so really i bought it while i was there for meetings, but the story sounds better the other way. This knife, it's dear to me, hand made, folded steel blade, folded 37 times to be exact. i watched the little craftsman making a knife just like the one i wanted. truly an eye opening experience, watching a little man, who was somewhat older than dirt but a little younger than the dinosaurs, sit there and heat and bend and heat and bend and heat and bend this flat piece of steel. All of this taking place inside a room with a dirt floor that was no bigger than the shitter in my office. Jesus I'm lucky, I've got a shitter bigger than some Japanese factories.  So, i happily hand over what roughly equates to the better part of two mortgage payments for this hand made gem. the Folded steel blade, hand carved teak handle, was perfectly balanced and sharp enough to cut your breath. I was in love. this was the piece that would trump all pieces.  this was my bit of bragging rights with the boys back home, this was my ace in the hole.

     And then some asshole had to take it all away from me. 

 the day i was due to fly home, it was a Sunday, some loony decided it would be a wonderful idea to drive a truck clean down the middle of one of the busiest shopping districts in Tokyo get out in the middle of the intersection and casually stab 18 people, just for kicks. Like he couldn't find a million other ways to blow off steam in Tokyo. The most super modern city in the world, the biggest amusement park for the mind, it's all right there.  But no, stabbing random strangers is more fun. wack job.

 What does that do for me?  Nothing, that's what.  customs officials are now on high alert, super paranoid, anything sharp, or resembling sharp, it's gotta go. not allowed on the plane.   makes perfect sense right?  well expect that we're in japan, the land of swords and steel.  most of the people in line have some sort of perfectly harmless Five dollar samurai sword kitch in their bags that are being confiscated in droves. No biggie, they can be replaced at the Canadian dollar store, probably  for less than you bought it for in Japan.  I however, have an 8 inch steel blade designed from the ground up to be a perfectly honed disassembling machine. This thing could take a finger off in 2 seconds flat and that's  before you take the safety off.  My little killing machine, packed ever so carefully in the middle of my suitcase was setting off alarm bells left right and centre.  I was ever so quietly asked to come into a room off to the side of the security area to claim my bag and make notes of the contents. Long story short, they weren't letting me and my knife on the plane at the same time because they were convinced i was going to disrupt the flight....  Think about this folks.....  me, in the plane, somewhere buried back in the cattle class on a 15 hour flight from Tokyo to Toronto.  300 of my closest friends all packed in with me. we're smelly, we're tired, we've just watched our 3rd 3 hour movie and realized we're only 1/2 way home.  at this point in time i'm going to stand up out of my seat, walk to the hatch clearly labeled " this way to the baggage in the belly of the plane"  open that hatch crawl in, magically locate my bag in the sea of other bags retrieve my prized possession, ( which cost more than my first car and my first diamond engagement ring combined, but that's a whole other story) and then make my way back into the plane and make tracks for the cockpit........  NOT BLOODY LIKELY.
 either way,  me and my knife are not traveling in coach class together on this trip.  they promise they'll courier it to me, guaranteed it will be home with me in no time.  alright i agree, what could i do? give them my knife or be subject to who knows how man cavity searches, ample poundings and some prodding that would make most of the bovine species blush.   so over i hand it, into a box it gets packed, i fill out the customs forms, fill in my address, to the office not to the house. The Mrs. would KILL me if she knew the real value of it.  i board my flight, and kiss my knife goodbye. deep down i know i'll never see it again.
  sure as shit, my first day back in the office, a box arrives for me from Tokyo, inside is my knife i smiled a little.All that bullshit and screwing around for a piece of metal and a wooden stump, it's funny, but it's true.  There's no life lesson here, nothing prophetic or deep.
    What i learned from this whole experience is that no matter how hard you work for something, some asshole will always do something stupid to fuck it up for you. So don't try and screw the system, because the system will screw you back, and it has a much bigger screwdriver.

life of a bot.

so let's start this off properly, let's share something about one another. I'll go first.

      - I am a middle management drone. -

 we're all the same, working for our little companies in our little cities, trying so desperately to prove we are more than what we currently are. Here's what i know about this stuff so far, right now there are about 8 million people in Canada just like me. have a better than average job, with better than average benefits, with a better than average lifestyle.  So what makes me different?  Nothing, i'm just like everybody else. that's what makes me a drone.  I do what my boss says whether i like it or not. I think what sets me and a small percentage of those 8 million other people apart from the masses is that i have accepted this fact: "that although i may have an opinion, it doesn't really matter." It's true, i have opinions about everything, some valid, some are way out to lunch. Most would make most people cringe. So I've been happily, keeping my thoughts to myself and going about my day doing what i'm told, kind of like a soldier, kind of like a well trained rodent. This is where quiet me gets a bit of a voice, a place to tell all the funny and unfortunate things that happen to me in my life.

 but first i have to vent about this stupid blogger....i thought google apps were supposed to be user friendly?  well i'm a user and this thing isn't very friendly to me at all.  The text editor is clunky, and keeps insisting i change my font with every new paragraph. I think i have created two carbon copies of this blog because i followed the registration steps to the letter , twice, because it somehow magically failed the first time.   And i'm sorry  ( that's the only time you'll hear me apologize for anything)  you're being subject the black background and blue fonts, it's hard on the eyes i know, but i'm not a pink flowers and blue circles kind of guy, that shit's just too fru-fru for me.   So you're stuck with the nasty-ass black background with hard to read font. But hey who cares, nobody reads this shit anyway, right?


 anyway, enough of that. here's a  glowing gem from my life.
So, it's preformance review time at work, and guess who's up first?   yup.... that's right the janitor, the guy who's always there first thing in the morning, changing lightbulbs, taking out the trash, breaking down the cardboard, and mopping the floors so the customers have a pretty place to shop. The janitor, we all love his work, but find him rather strange, like there's more to him than just a mop and a broom. He always seems to do the most work and get the least amount of respect, (hey man i feel your pain). but i digress, so it's review time and into the office trots the janitor for his early scheduled review meeting. In the office sits the store manager and the district manager,  damn, this is going to be heavy. upper management and the janitor. Three hours later, THREE HOURS, i stand up because i have to take a break. Where did i come from you ask, oh i forgot to mention. 'I' am the janitor, or atleast thats how it feels most days.   I have to get out of this room for a minute i tell them.  I've just spent the last three hours getting assulted in one and and spewing shit out of the other.
 so how did i get here?
 18 hours earlier we were closing up the shop, and outside it's snowing like hell, bad enough that i'm not willing to drive the 15 miles down the highway to my house for fear of an early death.  "Come stay at my place" he says, " the wife's away, we'll get some beers and have a steak"  I'm in.  so off i go, i call my girlfriend, and tell her the same story, i wont be home and i'll see her tomorrow.   Over a sub par striploin and some of the "pride of nova scotia" alexander keith's piss, err beer( fuck i hate that stuff.)  He tells me that tomorrow morning i'm due for my review.
         --FUCK!!--
 so here i am, storm stayed, no clean clothes, not even so much as a toothbrush in my possession at the moment and i'm due in an upper management meeting in less than 12 hours.  perfect. 

 So here i am, 9:00 am and i'm sitting in my office, in another man's underwear wearing yesterdays shirt and smelling like, well somebody who bathed in a rain barrel with some soap that smelled like flowers mixed with the stench of BBQ smoke and stale alcohol.  The two men who are hosting this meeting, One man owns the business, the other owns the underwear. Both of them, i'm convinced, have seen each other naked on more than one occasion.  I'm Fucked.  After this little tea party is finished, my ass feels like the ground beneath a California oil derrick and i've got a head full of  things i want to say.  However, more people than me depend on my pay cheque, so i simply say thank you and head out like nothing's ever happend.

 So now what?  like any civil human being, i drove home and got my shotgun. drove back to the office and took out my frustrations on the ass munching, underwear sharing team that just fucked my otherwise perfect morning cup of coffee.  Well, okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I just went back to work and continued to put my lips around the corporate cock of America and suck it like a well paid whore should.

 So that's me, a pushover at times, even a bit of a nancy some would say.  I know my place, and i've got this game of life just about figured out.  but my real question is,  Does life have me figured out yet?

consider this a preface..... sort of.

Blogging, why do it? 
Nobody cares what I have to say, at least that's what I think. 

  I'm not doing this to satisfy any urges i may have or to lash out a life. This is the world as i see it. Fucked up, Synical, Backstabbing and Dark.  Oh sure there are bright spots, lots of things make me laugh and smile, but most things simply remind me that this is a ratrace and we're all in it. little programmed minions in a preformed cut out maze all searching for the cheese at the centre. Only here's what i've figured out so far. THERE"S NO CHEESE IN THE MIDDLE.  Just a high-res image of some cheese like substance. We've all been force fed this idea since we've been children " grow up, get a job, earn a pay cheque, get the house, car and 2.5 kids and everything will be roses"  If that's the hook, here's the sinker.  The people who have been feeding us these lines all of our lives are no better off now than they were when they were teenagers. There is no way out of debt, no happily ever after, no white picket fence around the house, none of that. Life is a struggle all the way from start to finish, and those who appear to fit whatever your definition of successful is, are probably struggling to reach their own definition of success.

  This is the best reasonably hand-drawn facsimile to a tharapist i can find at the moment, so look out readers (all two of you, one of which i'm sure is my mom) this is going to get dark, twisted, funny and wacky all together. 
 
 Here's some things to remember while reading, 
        1) I'm not negative, not all the time, i like to call myself a realist. That title however, presents a direct link to self esteem issues for all you psychology students out there. That's not me,  I prefer to think of this like a controlled alter ego. I can easily see both sides of every story and create valid arguments for both, this forum will be subjected to the stuff i'm not "allowed" to say in public.  Yes, i'm hiding behind my keyboard, picking a fight with the world.  Do i care? NO!
       2) I like to talk, and talk about myself. Yes i have an ego, and it's a big one. These entries will be all about me, me and oh yes, more ME. My entries will be more than likely hard to read, they'll be frank, scattered thoughts that sum up how my view of the world may or may not be changing.That's how i tell stories, so thats what you're going to get, deal with it.  If you've got an opinon, please share it. I don't care about it, but share it none the less.
       3) My spelling, grammar and punctuation are horrendous, it used to be stellar, then microsoft word ruined the english language and all need for authors to have anything more than two index fingers and 1/2 of a poorly constructed sentence.
      4) buckle up baby, because this is going to be a ride and a half. You'll yell and scream, wanna hit me, probably light a smoke and drink some whiskey all at the same time. I'm not wreckless just a little bit crazy.

 So here we go....  Welcome to the fucking Show.