Absence makes the fart go yonder...

Sorry folks, I know my legions of adoring fans have been clamoring for a new entry, but as of late I just haven't anything to say.

I know what you're saying to yourself, "This can't be, things can't be going smoothly for him. Whatever shall I do without his witty reparte to help me through this maze we call life?"

Things have been rather quiet, other than the constant drama at work. After 19 years of slogging through shit, I long for a rewarding career. Not one that makes me debate between reaching for the alarm or the revolver every morning.

After reviewing Cory's comment, I thought to myself, "Self, you've had a good run." and proceeded to put my head in the oven. Alas, I don't have a gas oven and all it did was get really hot.

As hard as it may be to believe there was a time when I didn't hate my job. When I started with this company I had an ideology that I could help people and do some good in the world. Over time, trying to find the balance between helping people and dealing with management constantly preaching about profit margins, my love for what I do is all but lost.

I've counselled others with the words "You have to find something that you love to do. Something that makes you wake in the morning full of dreams and ideas for the new day." Sadly, life has got me on a technicality, and now I find myself at a crossroads.

I often wonder when Life started really beating the shit out of me. When did I become so jaded as to develop the attitude that if you don't want to do things my way then fuck off. When did I let the bitterness permeate my being so completely?

Maybe it's the outrageous fucking freaks I have to deal with, both as customers and staff. Maybe I'm just fucking tired of trying to be Superman (just remember kids, perfection is a fault, and I have no faults), or maybe, ahh who the fuck cares.

Sniff...Oh fuck off and quit snivelling.

As the new year rises over the horizon, I look to it with an uncharacteristic optimism. Fuck, maybe I'll get laid next year (not fuckin' likely), or maybe things will calm down at work (yeah, right), or maybe I'll actually finish one of these fucking tracks and get some sweet record deal and be rich and famous.

Of these, I think the most likely eventuality is that I'll be struck by lightning and my Johnson will fall off.

"Any of you fucking pricks move and I'll execute every single motherfucking last one of ya"

I have a shitty job (literally).

Well that heralded day is here once again. The day when everyone's kids wake them up in the middle of the night asking to open their presents, thereby making the parents tired and bitchy for the rest of the day (at least, that's what I did to mine).

For me being single and living alone, I slept in until the ungodly hour of 9:30am, got up and had a smoke, wished I had beer in the house, then went back to bed for another two hours.

Having stated above that I'm single, one of the tremendous benefits of being in this glorious position on the holidays is that I have the esteemed honour of taking all of the fucking emergency calls whilst everyone else enjoys the company of their kin. This fine afternoon I had the pleasure of cleaning up someone else's fecal matter, on a Sunday; Christmas Sunday no less.

While I'm not a particularly religious person, I think that cleaning up other people's bowel movements on Christmas day is nearly the most heinous kick in the junk possible. Thank the gods that the people were appreciative of my efforts lest I spend the next 25 years in the crossbar hotel for what would have been a very justified murder-death-kill.

There are benefits to my job (other than the immense pleasure of working with Dan), and just as soon as I figure them out, you'll be the first to know.

So as not to give the wrong impression, I am not looking for sympathy. I know where to find it, between shit and syphillis in the dictionary. I just wonder if I was Mussolini in a former life. At least that would justify the karmic "Fuck you" I receive on a regular basis.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Sauron's new plan for world domination.

Television advertising has reached a new low. At least the ads for products to add some lead to the old pencil are entertaining.

No, what I’m referring to is anything regarding feminine hygene. I really don’t want to hear about how well “Product A” fits in your cunt, or how the wings/tabs/what have you staunch the flow so you don’t look like someone hit you in the groin with an axe. As far as that goes, I don’t trust anything that can bleed for three days and not die.

I long for the days when such things were advertised with such slogans as “You can even go horseback riding.” Not, “You can bleed like a stuck fucking pig and no one will know.” Which is basically what they are trying to convey.

Print Advertising is no fucking better. What do I need with a piece of paper that gets me 10% off of martinizing. Especially one I can’t even use to wipe my ass. I don’t know who Martin is and I find it arrogant of him to think that whatever Izing he may do to me is likely to be a pleasant enough experience that I should feel it necessary to render payment for his efforts.

I’m quite sure Dan knows Martin, but I can’t readily subject myself to the torture that is talking to Dan to find out who Martin is or where I can find him so I can kick him in the nuts for constantly filling my mailbox with his inane propaganda.

Now I know what you’re thinking, but putting a sign that says “No Flyers Please” on your mailbox does nothing to stem the tide of deforestation to produce this tripe. Not even a sign that says “GET FUCKED!” will work.

Oh that the Ents such as Treebeard were here to lay waste to the Isengard that is the Advertising industry. I feel the resources, time and manpower would be better served in such pursuits as finding a cure for cancer, ending world hunger or brewing better beer.

To the best of my recollection the only piece of advertising that has crossed my path that I didn’t object to was the Victoria’s Secret catalog that I received at a former residence of mine. Come to think of it that was the only reason I actually checked the mailbox regularly. Aah, the visions of the former tenant wearing something from page 23, now that's one for the spank bank.

Note: To all of you sick fucks out there, no I am not Tapper nor do I subscribe to his tastes in “women”. I like them curvy, not something that Greenpeace is liable to try and roll back into the water if she’s lying on the beach.

Seasons Fucking Greetings!

Good day all.

When the fuck did the true meaning of christ-all-fucking-mighty-mas get lost in translation? Did Wal-Mart buy December 25th from the Christians?

What the fuck am I missing?

I refuse to participate in a so-called "holiday" that consists of people pulling their hair out because they don't know what particular "thing" to buy someone and stressing because they don't have the funds to purchase this mystical item.

What happened to peace on earth and good will to everyone (except Dan of course)? When did we forget that this time of year is supposed to be about reconnecting with friends and family and appreciating all that we have. I choose to reflect on everything that has happened to me in the past year and give thanks that I have some amazing friends and family to share in the good times and be there for me in the bad times.

So to all of you freaking out about picking up that last minute piece of shit that will likely get thrown out the second you walk out the door, I have this to say: Pull your head out of your ass you stunned, stupid, numb-fuck.

Merry Fucking Jesus Goddamned Christmas Uncle Fucker and to all GET FUCKED!

I'll be raising a pint for those of you that are intelligent enough to know what the fuck is what and not buy into this commercialized bullshit.

Cheers.

Someone set us up the bomb

Whoopdee Fucking Do Da Day!

Where do I start? I need a place to rant about the absolute stupidity of the goings on of people in the world today and this seems like a good place to do so.

A word of caution: Names will be changed (slightly, except for Dan) to protect the guilty. And if I offend anyone, especially someone I know, I have two words for you.

GET FUCKED!

And now, on with the ranting and raving.

The title of this blog is a reference to someone I work with. In my estimation he is the stupidest fucking moron I've ever met (honestly that statement might be offensive to morons). The simplest tasks are immensly challenging to this imbecilic clod. So when you find yourself asking yourself what path to take or are indecisive, ask yourself, "What would Dan do?" If one of the choices seems even remotely idiotic, then that's what Dan would do and I strongly suggest you choose the other option.

It's not just a good idea, but a philosophy on life and how to deal with the trials and tribulations. You can keep your Jung and Socrates, that shit is just way to fucking out there. My way is simple and to the point, which is exactly what this fucked up, retarded world needs these days.

You have been forewarned.

Make Your Time.