Happy Halloween! (Or, What Do Ya Mean Yer Out Of Candy, Asshole?)

The job, as is its custom, sucketh mightily today, and I was quite happy to get out of there several hours early, because it was extremely slow and my neck was/is killing me. I blame the hotel pillows from the weekend, which were luxuriously soft...at first, then you sink down into them, and it's as if you're laying on a fucking rock, and after a few nights there, I was quite stiff in the neck, and then trying to re-adjust to the pillows back here at the crib has simply played further hell with things.

I was hoping to catch a warm shower and try to crash out without any type of pillows and grab a nap, hopefully straightening out things a bit, but this wasn't in the cards, and I got caught up in putting the finishing touches on the entryway to the house, repositioning things to suit me, and make for easier access to the treats so the little bastards don't bumrush the door. I was saddened to see that the stupid fog machine was D.O.A. when I took it out of the box, apparently a $20 item from Target isn't necessarily built to last from one fucking year to the next.

Money well spent, lemme tellya.

Our giveaway stuff this year was again some storebought candy mixed with some items from The Oriental Trading Company, who give us all manner of spiffy themed holiday gifts. We were surprised to find a supply of some of last year's items, which included a magic 8-ball pumpkin, and some strawberry candy in little blood-bags still chilling in the bottom of the cauldron we serve out of. We had a new toy as well, little skeleton paratroopers and an assortment of new candy. I recall trying one of the blood-bags last year, and thinking it was pretty disgusting, so I knew we needed to push those and get them the hell out of the house. I was also pretty confident that they couldn't have gotten any worse than they were last year.

Our trick-or-treaters always come in weird waves, one or two stragglers come by, then nothing for 20 minutes and all of a sudden fifteen at once, so I was being pretty generous at first, everyone got two items, the blood-bag and something chocolate, but as the numbers started to mount, I started getting a little stingier with things, and dropped back to one item per person. I was also quite pleased to get several different people commenting on the blood-soaked decorations and set dressing, I definitely want to do more with it next year. There was the usual amount of kids wearing nothing but street clothes and carrying a crumpled Wal-Mart sack rather than an actual costume, but who gives a shit, right? I mean it's basically condoned begging, so why am I gonna quibble with who's playing by the rules and who's not? I was a little amused to give one of the paratroopers to a woman who was 45 if she was a day, but at the very least she was dressed in some kind of witch outfit, so what the hell, enjoy your toy, lady.

We were getting into some dire straights for about 45 minutes this evening, as the candy supply was dwindling fast, and the kids kept coming, so in rummaging for possible treats we came across a bag of SweeTarts individual snack-sized packets, left over from this past Valentine's Day, and out the door they went, I mean, candy's candy, right? While all the parents are busy worrying about whether or not anyone has been tainting their child's treats, I simply slip them the expired shelf-life stuff and hope for the best. I'll keep you posted if I see any news stories about children reporting stomach problems in tomorrow's newspaper, but really, what are the odds that they'll be able to trace it to a specific candy or household.

Those C.S.I. fuckers are pretty good though...I may actually be in trouble.

Having posted awhile back about the After Dark Horrorfest series of films, I was happy to discover which film amongst the eight involved featured the creepy image that I had stuck in my head from their trailer for the festival itself. It's apparently from a film called The Gravedancers, and a full trailer for it can be seen here. I could only find one image of the creature in question, but it sort of does the creep effect justice, it reminds me a lot of the Zuni Fetish Doll from the Trilogy Of Terror series, only this one is fucking life-sized. The trailer seems intriguing, and I like Tchéky Karyo in most things I've seen him in, so I'm thinking this may be worth a look.

There have been a few reviews straggling in over at the Big Suck Loser, check that out if you haven't recently, and I'm planning on writing a few things over the next few days off, just to prove to myself that my log-in over there is still valid.

Be seeing you.

Last Minute Decoration

Weirdness at the job would include the fact that our second and third in command were both given the day off, which left us with no real leadership in the backroom, 'cause I ain't fuckin' doing it. We also had one person running late, and one called in, so I was a little tense when I walked in to just myself and one other girl this morning, since she's a little slow getting the orders out, but luckily the one who called out actually showed up, having found a sitter for her sick child, and Chatty Cathy wandered in eventually. Chatty was apparently wired for sound on some sort of borrowed pain medications, and was eventually sent home because we were caught up with orders and she seemed so loopy that the boss was concerned that she'd cut off her damned finger in her wacky state.

I actually spoke to her several times and had no idea that she was as high as a giraffe's ass.

I had a wild hair yesterday afternoon as we were waiting for the plane, and today after I got out of work, we picked up a bolt of fabric to decorate the front entry hallway with, which I planned on spattering up with fake blood and using to set more of a creepy tone for the little trick-or-treaters this year. Of course the only way vampire blood was sold at Walgreens was within a larger set of crap that I had no interest in, so I ended up buying a bottle of red poster paint instead, which worked out quite well. I got home and spread out the entire bolt of cloth on the patio area out back and did my best Jackson Pollock with it in a nice monochromatic crimson, then push-pinned it in a lazy swagging manner to the ceiling, giving the front hallway a nice abbatior feel, and boxing off the front room so you don't see the living area behind. We break out the fog machine tomorrow, as well as a few life-size skulls to sprinkle about, and the Department 56 Halloween Village pieces, which light up and make a hellacious series of creepy noises. All for a series of ungrateful kids who either don't notice the decorations or are so young that they are scared of it and don't want to approach the door. This may be why I see myself buying more graphic and scary looking decorations as the years go on, since the kids aren't that into it anyway, I may as well entertain myself.

I think I need some kind of full torso corpse kinda thing to throw out on the floor or the lawn to really set the room off.

Watched the original Halloween this evening, I'm amazed at how well the film still holds up after all these years, really great stuff. I didn't actually get to watch as much horror stuff as I'd hoped this month, but I'm looking forward to the TiVo'd first episode of the new Masters Of Horror series, which I think I'm going to watch tomorrow evening after the trick-or-treaters call it a night.

The Best Part Of Traveling....

We're finally back home.

Given that from what I see over on the old Sitemeter, the daily numbers here are in a free-fall, so I'm gonna run through this one kinda short and sweet, 'cause I'm tired and want to go to bed sooner than later.

We had the time change and gained an hour last night, which should've made me more rested, but instead left me kinda groggy most of the day.

Briefly: We had lunch with Morris at Houston's, after checking out of the hotel, then went over to the Northpark Mall, K and Morris shopped a bit, I wandered along in tow and watched all the nice fake boobs wander by.

"My goodness, Grandmother, what big titties you have!"

Went by a Half-Price Books and found absolutely nothing, we eventually dropped Morris back at his vehicle, said our goodbyes and went to gas up the car before dropping it back off and catching the shuttle back to the airport.

My biggest enjoyment whilst travelling recently is finding the person who's at least slightly more miserable with the airport ordeal than I am and watching them squirm for my entertainment. This isn't a hard game to play, especially nowadays, with terror levels being raised to fuschia or tangerine or what the hell ever it is, (can I get a copy of the chart again?) and everyone basically hating to fly. Watched a guy twitching and fidgeting in line like he has never had to wait for anything in a fucking airport before, speaking at great length to his traveling companion about what could be taking so long, well-travelled, wizened sage that he was.

Jesus, get over yourself, calm down, and sit still like good cattle.

Because otherwise, the terrorists win.

Got in kinda late, watched the Desperate Housewives and Dexter, called it a night.

Back to the job tomorrow.

Be seeing you.

Corinthian's Wedding Weekend Blowout Day Two

We slept in after last night's dinner, and then met Morris for lunch at Chuy's around noon.

I have an idea that this may sound like we're doing everything but spend time with the bride and groom this weekend, which is actually a concerted effort on my part. Honestly, the more I hear about how many people Corinthian and Ellen Aim have in town for the wedding, and that they're running around town trying to entertain, I feel like we're doing the right thing by giving them some space to deal with whatever they need to deal with and not give them yet another person to have to dance for. Not that it's really any kind of burden to entertain your guests, I just think we're probably doing them a favor by being out of the picture so they can visit their families and peeps that have traveled from further than Midland.

We wandered through all the various high-end stores around the Knox-Henderson shopping area, (Love that Z Gallerie!) and had some frozen custard at a little place called Wild About Harry's that has a six foot tall plastic hot-dog standing out front for photo opportunities.

No, we didn't take any photos.

The three of us gathered at the hotel around 4:00, got into our costumes and headed out to Arlington. The drive was somewhat tricky, because of traffic being fairly heavy for no apparent reason, but with K dressed as a nun, we had a truckload of Mexican guys who waved us in, good Catholics that they were, so that helped quite a bit. We had decided to pass on the pregnant nun, and I left my little penis pump at the hotel, just because I knew it'd do nothing but put Corinthian on edge if he thought I could be walking around his house nudging his relatives with my faux-erection. The house was completely decked out for Halloween, with the living room set up as the makeshift chapel, pumpkins arranged in two lines down the center to rule out the aisle which the wedding party would come down. I was caught a bit flat-footed to realize that I was actually considered to be a groomsman, which I honestly don't recall ever being mentioned to me before today, but luckily all that actually entailed was me standing at the head of the room with the groom, best man and another groomsman, so I wasn't behind the times on any kind of routines or anything.

The service itself was quite fast, and save for a few photos afterwards, we were free to mingle and partake of many dessert items and the much anticipated barbecued wild boar, which was pretty tasty indeed. We got to meet several members of the extended family that I hadn't met before, or at least that I could recall. Corinthian's mother, for example, seemed convinced that we'd met before, though I couldn't for the life of me remember when it might've happened.

The characters in attendance included (besides the obvious Robin Hood and Maid Marian) a monk, a genie, Harry Potter, a witch, a princess, Indiana Jones, a cowboy (not much of a stretch here in Texas, though this guy was from Wyoming), a grim reaper, a zombie, George and Laura Bush, Jackie O, and even a guy dressed as one of those Dia De Los Muertos skeleton characters, complete with a sombrero.

We left the party as it was beginning to wind down a bit, not wanting to be the last hangers-on milling around too late, and Morris told us that some of his friends were having a get-together at their house back in Dallas, so we headed back to town and went for a visit, had a few drinks and chatted for an hour or so. Hitting a Jack In The Box on the way back to the hotel is now a basic neccessity for these drinking Saturday nights with Morris, so as I write this, I'm happily snacking on my greasy eggroll repast.

There's a time change this evening, so we gain an hour, I hope I'm able to get a little more rest and feel a bit more recharged for tomorrow, as we have a small shopping agenda before we catch the plane back to Midland.

Be seeing you.

Corinthian's Wedding Weekend Blowout Day One

We flew out of Midland this morning at 10, landing in Dallas at about 11.

I got the random frisking from the security guy leaving Midland, which has been the case the last three times we've flown, leaving me to feel as though I've inadvertantly begun some sort of odd relationship with the man, and that he'll eventually start wanting more than the occasional heavy petting at the airport.

At Love Field I spotted some future mother of the year actually showing her one or two year old child how to put his hands on the luggage conveyor belt to feel it move, something I'm fairly certian that I've seen any number of signs actively discouraging people from doing. Fun game, but I'm sure that she'll be first in line to start suing the airline when little Timmy is known only as 'Lefty'.

We went by the Horchow Finale store, which was an amusingly upscale garage sale, and then we had a nice lunch at Pappadeaux, and checked into the hotel to chill out for a bit, even had a chance to squeeze in a nap before Morris got off work.

He met us at the hotel, and we went by his house for awhile, had a few drinks, and then headed out to a friend's birthday party, or rather, one of Morris' co-worker's husband's birthday party at someplace called The Metro Bar and Grill. Fun place, with a nice secluded courtyard area that had a fireplace to keep us warm while we had a few beers and ate a great burger. It was nice getting to know some of Morris other acquaintances and we got back to the hotel around 11:30.

Tomorrow we are planning on getting a few last minute details together for the costumes before making the drive to Arlington for the big event.

Be seeing you.

It's Going To Be A Long Night

I'm just now sitting down after ten to write this evening, I'm tired as hell, and I still have a load of laundry in the washer, that will need to be dried tonight as well, before I can call it a night.
We leave tomorrow for Dallas at 10 in the AM for the big costume wedding weekend, which will see my good friend Corinthian marrying my equally good friend Ellen Aim, who are to be dressed as Robin Hood and Maid Marian for the ceremony, so this should prove to be quite interesting, I'm sure. I doubt that they are going for the full on foxy look, but I understand that there is indeed a quiver involved in the groom's costume, so they've definitely given the whole thing some thought and effort, I can only hope that K and I's costumes are not too terribly cheesy looking by comparison, I've only heard what the bride and groom are planning to wear, so I have no idea what the other party-goers have in store for us.

I'm also trying to write something for the old Big Suck Loser before I leave for the weekend, just because I've been quite lax in the recent weeks about trying to update it. Thankfully, Ellen Aim and sKincarver have both reviewed stuff in the past week or so, but I'd still like to try and drop a new review on the frontpage every few days, especially considering how many movies I watch on a weekly basis, I figure I might as well get some kind of use out of all that wasted time. I've not really watched anything the past few nights, but I have been slowly working my way through the Small Gauge Trauma DVD, which is a collection on shorts from the first ten years of the Fantasia Film Festival. They range from 30 seconds to around 40 minutes long, and what I've seen so far has been pretty damned cool, even if a few have been a little too arty for their own good, I have to say that if nothing else some of them are impressive for the sheer amount of nudity that they pack into a 10 minute short, considering that a lot of director's have trouble conning some actresses into getting nekkid for a feature film, and these folks have skillfully persuaded young ladies into appearing in the raw for their 12 minute zombie film that they've financed by maxing out credit cards and selling plasma.

Kudos, you budding film makers out there.

Work was pretty standard, although Myspace has already made it back from her cross-country booty-call trek, which I wasn't expecting, I assumed she'd be gone until the weekend.

Tired now, I'm off to fold laundry and try to catch some sleep so we don't get to Dallas tomorrow and have to go straight to the hotel for a nap. I'd like to try and run around a little bit, just for kicks, since we have no particular responsibilities (that I'm aware of) with this wedding save for our attendance. I'm thinking we'll end up hanging out with Morris in the afternoon, which is always fun.

Be seeing you.

Paris Syndrome?

I ran across a puzzling story on MSNBC this morning about what I’d have to consider a non-issue called ‘Paris Syndrome’ that effects quite literally handfuls of Japanese tourists each year. I’m sorry to sound so callous, but the article mentions a dozen reported cases, which to me doesn’t imply epidemic, y’know? Apparently the demeanor of the Parisians and what not is enough to put these people around the bend, which I find amusing, considering the numerous groups of Asian tourists that we encountered during our honeymoon there, who were usually a head and a half shorter than me, and would shoulder their way past me in the manner of a linebacker from a rival team rather than a fellow tourist. Perhaps these people in question weren’t Japanese, but Chinese, I really wasn’t in a position to inquire as to their native origins, trying as I might to not get taken out at the knees in the middle of The Louvre.

I guess I’m just amused by the story because if I lost my shit every time a clerk was rude to me, I’d be in a water tower right now with a rifle, working out the details of the suicide note I would staple to my chest before I turned the gun on myself rather than be taken by the cops, instead of talking to you nice people on the interweb.

You've gotta let some shit slide, that’s all I’m saying.

Work went by like a pleasant dream, and I was able to just mind my own business and do my thing at the desk for most of the morning, and even got a short field trip over to the sister store to drop off some arrangements in the afternoon.

Got a lot of listening in with the iPod, including a couple of the older Nate and Di Shows (R.I.P.), a new Horror Podcast, the latest (Cool) Shite On The Tube, the latest Pickled Embryo, and the last couple of shows on The Subculture Collective feed.

The highlight of my day, hands fucking down, was coming out of the backroom and seeing the boss standing in the design room, looking expectant, so I popped out one of the headphones, and asked what was up, she said nothing, tapping her nails on the desk impatiently. Intrigued, I then realized that her agitation was with Chatty Cathy, who was standing around, as is her habit, telling a fellow worker a story about God knows what, and the boss waited until she had finished her story, probably a minute or so later, and then walks up to her and asked "Are you doing anything?"

Chatty stumbled around on her words, saying that she'd just been doing something, but we had no orders so blah the fucking blah and the boss kinda squashed all that with a gruff declaration that she should be working on extra stuff for the cooler (which is invariably the old standby response to "There's fuck-all to do") and stalked away. Chatty stormed over to another workers desk, and starts whispering to her about what I'm sure was her being singled out and yelled at for nothing, as I tried to stifle my laughter at her finally getting called out on her zombie shuffle, do-nothing attitude and not even having the guts to try to get out of it.

Had I been caught flat footed like that, I'd have answered the "are you doing anything?" query thus:

"No, and neither is that one on a personal phone call over there, nor that one telling stories to the delivery driver in the back, so unless you're going around the room and yelling at everyone, let's not be singling me out for this behavior."

But I don't particularly care if I keep this job, either.

The boss and I have had a few good days, she was pretty grateful that I was able to help her out with her party set up at the crazy bitch's house yesterday, which kinda surprised me, I mean, it is my job, helping her out and whatnot. I suppose she probably appreciates my work being reliable, because while I'm far from the best designer we have, I'd have to call my design work at the very least dependable (in that hse knows what to expect from me), with occasional bursts of creativity. It all just depends on whether or not my heart's in it that day as to how creative it gets, while Chatty is somewhat lackluster most of the time, with brief spurts of average.

Be seeing you.

Search Engines Are Strange

Amid the dwindling returns I see here at the Bastards is the weird hits that turn up via search engines. Apparently the easiest way to (inadvertantly) drum up business is to mention Jared Leto or Michael C. Hall in the vaguest of manners in a post, and it'll have people beating a path to your interweb door. Or at least this has been my experience while writing this crap in the past few weeks.

Hold on to your hats kids, and let me drag you kicking and screaming through the highlights of my day.

We have many crazy rich women as our customers, who are under the insane impression that we can do anything that pops into their heads for them, and our greatest offender has always been Mrs. Glitz, so christened for what she wants to add to any given party she throws. The problem usually being that her idea of 'adding glitz' is making any given arrangement or decoration scheme into a glittery, whorish Vegas-style nightmare in the boldest of colors that would shock even the most jaded of drag-queens.

I'm talking about over-blown, 'holy shit' kind of over the top stuff.

She was throwing a party this evening, and we had her order for a centerpiece to match a specific color scheme of a napkin, my boss made the arrangement, I delivered it, only to find out that this crazy bitch has completely changed her color-scheme last night, and now wants an additional series of floral arrangements to place around the house, and her fucking chandelier decorated as well. We ended up being stuck there for an additional two hours as she looked for places in the house to stick flowers, and believe me, I had a few suggestions. I don't understand what goes through her mind, who the hell thinks that their guests walk into their home and immediately wonder why that vase in the far corner, behind the crystal decanter doesn't have a lily in it? Christ knows it's not a party until there's flowers stuck into every nook and cranny of the house.

And while driving the company van this morning, I was somewhat alarmed to see a car heading directly towards me in the far right-hand lane of my flow of traffic. This woman had started to turn into a parking lot, and then decided mid-stream that she needed the next entrance, only a half block's journey in the lane of on-coming traffic, so she fuggin' went for it. On the upside, had she actually hit me, she was driving a Mercedes, so the odds are good that we could've replaced the van pretty easily.

Having discovered the art of Charles Addams in the past few years, I was excited to learn that the first season of The Addams Family was coming out today on DVD. About time I'd say, considering that The Munsters has both seasons out already, as well as their two movies. As much as I enjoy The Addams Family show, I do still prefer the warped sensibility of the cartoons, Addams' work is just so damned twisted, and so clever at times that I've had to stare at some of his seemingly harmless pictures for minutes at a time until the weird twist made itself apparent. I'm really looking forward to checking out a little marathon of the show, since I was TiVo'ing them for awhile, but had lost my passion for it because TVLand was only running one episode a week at some unGodly hour, as they seemed hellbent on phasing out classic television in favor of re-runs of shit like Cheers, and I kept forgetting to set the recorder.
I also grabbed a copy of the long awaited Slither, since I managed to miss it while it was in the theater, and I have to say, I was very impressed with the film. It seemed to have a very charming blend of comedy and horror, and a few nice jumps, I'd compare it somewhat to an Americanized version of Shaun Of The Dead, which for my money is high praise indeed, as that's become one of my absolute favorite films.

Loading up the iPod for the day ahead, which, if things hold true, will be fairly uneventful, as the last few days have been pretty quiet at the shop, which has been nice, considering that my old friend Myspace is out of town this week to drive cross-country to visit the man she's going to marry and move to California to be with sometime next year.

Nevermind the fact that about 2 months ago she was getting some strange dick from a guy she hooked up with on (you guessed it) Myspace, but no, really, this time it's really love, this guy is the one, we're sure of it.

I'll believe this shit when it happens. She's talking about a wedding and a move as if it's a done deal, hell, we could all get hit by a bus tomorrow, or some other booty-call guy could message her with a picture of two hyenas fucking and she'll be gone again, y'know?

Be seeing you.

Bitchy Monday

In a weird trend today, most all of the stuff I had a chance to listen to had a strangely grouchy tone ot it, and the hosts of the shows were somewhat arguementative, specifically the Reel Horror Podcast, but less so for the latest Night Of the Living Podcast, though they did seem snarkier with one another than usual.

Ironically, the tone of the job was pretty laid back, and I was out of the store for most of the morning taking down the wedding reception from the past weekend, so that made for a nice change of pace. As I type this though, I suddenly realized with a weird 'Oh Shit" feeling that we forgot to go and pick up our crap at the church today, so that's something else I'll have to do tomorrow. Our customer had seen fit to let another group of people who were having a party tonight use their leftover flowers from this past weekend, which is all well and good, but also meant that we had to try and sort out what was ours from what was in vases that belonged to the bride's mother, so that ended up taking a little more time than usual, but it also meant that we only had to bring back about half the stuff we'd been expecting to, so that was nice.

I did get a chance to see sKincarver this evening, who was in town for a weird 24 hour business sortie, and was able to work me into that fairly hectic schedule, if only for a brief dinner and viewing of the TiVo'd Fangoria Chainsaw Awards, which was amusing if only to mock the super swishy Hot Topic victims in most of the musical acts and a good deal of the audience. My finger as always very far from the pulse of the American public, I was stunned to realize that 30 Seconds To Mars is fronted by Jared Leto (?) who was dressed in an odd sort of Nazi-esque kinda goth-drag that looked like he's been shopping at Marilyn Manson's garage sale, hell I was half expecting him to thank Maybelline during his acceptance speech, what with all the heavy eyeliner. I suppose I'd rather see this type of thing gaining popularity than another half-assed rap act, but I just don't find a whole lot to like with these goth/emo/screamo/punk hybrid bands that seem so prevalent nowadays. Weirdly, I actually think it's stuff I'd have probably bought about six years ago, but now I just have a 'ho-hum' attitude towards it now, for some kind of indefinable reason. I tried to sit through a performance by My Chemical Romance on the recent Scream Awards, and ended up having to fast-forward that shit.

I'm getting old very fast, it would appear.

Be seeing you (Grandpa's off to bed).

TVLand Part Three

We got up late, hit a little Mexican place for lunch, grabbed some coffee and came right back home and got back in our pajamas for a nice long day in.

Watched a couple of movies in the early afternoon, The Changeling and C.H.U.D., since I guess we're working our way alphabetically through the horror section. The Changeling was as creepy as I remembered, a pretty classic haunted house story starring George C. Scott, this one creeped me out so much as a child that I've only seen it (including today's viewing) three times. The C.H.U.D. thing was something that we'd both somehow missed out on, and was pretty amusing for 80's cheese.

Watched another film in the late afternoon, something from those rental throttling pricks at Netflix called Cure, from a director whose film Kairo (or Pulse, as it was known here in the US) is near universally received as the creepiest, scariest film that you've never seen, and actually an artier entry in the Ringu-launched J-Horror craze of recent years. I was bored to tears by Kairo, and figured that there must be something I was missing, because of the near-universal praise I've seen heaped on that film. I figured that I would either re-visit it one day, or check out something else by the director, and I'm deciding that I just don't get this guy's work, this was equally slow moving, and unless I missed a major plotpoint, very confusingly ended, although, in the film's defense, I did doze once or twice due to it's inability to rivet me to the screen.

Caught the newest Dexter this evening, and I'm currently TiVo'ing the 2006 Fangoria Chainsaw Awards, which I may try to go and check out later this evening, or I might just let ride until tomorrow night, since I have to be up tomorrow for work.

One of the roosters escaped the containment unit this evening, I heard some sort of kerfuffle coming from the back yard and looked out to see the large white offender wandering about outside the pen, looking confused as all hell. One of the power struggles had apparently sent him flapping high enough in the air to tumble through the wire that has up until now been enough to block off the top of the doorway that their little chicken run is butted up against. I spend a few minutes cornering him, and then tossed his squawking ass back in the pen, where Oprah, the large bull-dyke hen immediately pecked him on the head, and chased him into the little well house. I'm going to have to fortify their enclosure before we go out of town for the weekend, because the last thing I want to be doing on Sunday evening is chase a bunch of dumbass birds around the yard to the tune of that wacky music from a Benny Hill skit.

Tired, I'm out.

Be seeing you.

Long Day Of Work + Dinner And The Theatre = Holy Shit It's Late And I'm Tired

I'd like to open this evening with the announcement that I have no idea what the hell a 'blue chicken monologue' is, nor do I know why about five people visited my site today based on searches via different search engines for that phrase.

Ironically, there is a bit of the theatre later in the post...

The workday was one of those that drug along at a decent clip, though frustrating because there was simply so much stuff to do, and only four of us working on it, because we had to leave a contingent at the store, who were standing around doing nothing each time we came back to the store to get another load of flowers. That's always a nice feeling, walking in sweaty, miserable and tired, and seeing your co-workers all milling around at one person's desk, shooting the shit without a care in the world while you've been breaking your back moving this crap around all day.

Yeah, it's a rewarding job, let me tell you.

High point of the afternoon was seeing a cop who looked to be about age 14 or so pulling over a car with three women inside, and then call for backup and get two guys who looked like they were decked out in S.W.A.T. gear, all in black, and then they arrested all three of them. The only reason we were able to follow all these developments was that the woman got pulled over and chose to park in the driveway of the wedding reception site. I can only hope that the car got impounded before the wedding guests started arriving, otherwise I'm sure it'd play hell with their valet parking setup.

After work I was able to squeeze in a quick shower and shave, before Anastasia Beaverhouszen and her hubby arrived, and we headed out for our dinner reservations. Dinner was nice, and a few beers helped to ease away the day before we drove down the block to the local community theatre for a pretty damned good production of Wit, which I'd never seen before, in any form, theatrical or otherwise. Really good stuff, and the star was terrific, very moving.

I'm tired, more tomorrow.

Be seeing you.

I Love My Job Part 18 (Or, Lady, Just Sign For The Fucking Flowers Before I Kill Us Both )

I am occasionally called upon to help out our delivery drivers, usually when one of them is out sick and leaves the remaining one short-handed.

I also understand why a certian portion of our populace is quasi-suspicious or hostile with people who are doing various jobs. Unwanted religious visitors offering to save my immortal soul right there on my lawn while I'm simply trying to get the mail and relax for the afternoon. People who make those annoying telemarketing calls either harrassing me about my bad credit or offering me new credit cards.

I understand why people in those lines of work get a lot of static immediately, because you're catching people when they don't want to be bothered, or hassling them about shit they don't want to talk about.

People who are immediately suspicious and hostile when they are having flowers delivered to them kinda confuse the hell out of me, and I've run into them more than a few times.

Today I rang the bell of an older woman's house, and when she finally drug her aged carcass to the door and eyed me suspiciously, I offered cheerfully "Hi there, I have flowers for Mildred?"

I like to kinda make it a question, just in case they're not the person in question, but are willing to sing for the stupid thing so I can get the hell on to the next stop.

"There's no Mildred here." she said, sounding a little annoyed already.

"Um, okay, "I hesitated, and repeated myself, giving the full name, probably mispronouncing the last name that sounded as if she needed to buy a vowel to make it a real name, it had too many consonants.

"Well, my name's Millie, there's no Mildred at this address."

And Millie couldn't be short for Mildred?!? Is this woman fucking with me?

"Well, perhaps they didn't know about a nickname..." I offered, shifting a bit, not liking the turn this is taking.

"No one calls me Mildred though, I don't know who would be sending me flowers anyway. Who are they from?"

I'm beginning to see why no one would send you flowers, bitch. I barely know you and I feel a seed of hatred sprouting as we speak...

"I really have no idea ma'am, would you care to read the card, and see if they are from someone you know?" I hand over the card, which apparently had a second card attached as well, from our store, unbeknownst to me, apologizing for us not delivering this shit yesterday.

"This is so strange, I don't know why they'd send flowers." she muttered to no one in particular, and then read the second card, while I stood there wondering why the hell there were two cards, and then she really confused me by asking "Why weren't these delivered yesterday?"

Because God hates me, apparently.

"I really couldn't say ma'am, I don't normally deliver, but I know we've been short-handed, (Getting a little annoyed with her now) that's actually how I got roped into delivering this morning. Do you know these folks on the card?"

"Yes I do, but I don't know why they'd address these to Mildred, they know that's not my name...are these from (Insert store name here)?" she asks, still suspicious.

"Yes they are, could you sign here on the third line, if these are indeed for you, ma'am?" I indicate the clipboard that I'm getting pretty fucking tired of holding.

"Don't ya'll usually do larger arrangements than this? I don't know why they put these in such a small container...are these just roses in here? Is this what they ordered, specifically? Because I don't know why they'd send something so small." As she now gets very interested/critical in what she's stuck with receiving.

Probably the only time I've ever heard anyone be such a fucking ingrate that they actually ask "Did they send me only roses?" Yeesh, what dicks, maybe next time they'll really try to piss you off and buy you an expensive necklace.

"Ma'am, I didn't actually do the arrangement, and I don't know what was ordered specifically, why, do you not like it?"

Because you're a few more snide remarks away from me snapping this clipboard in half and sawing your wrinkled neck open with the serrated fucking edge of it.

"I just don't know why they'd put it in such a small container, your store always does such nice work, and this just isn't what I'd expect. I'll have to tell them (the senders) what was sent, I think they'd want to know, I think I'll have to send them a picture of this."

Was that a threat? The fuckers from where-the-hell-ever who sent this order via FTD are gonna get a picture of this little bubble-bowl rose arrangement? Who gives a rat's ass?

"If you don't like it, or don't want it, I can certianly take it away, ma'am, I have no problem with that, if you'd rather we do something else and bring it back out later..."

"Well, no, but I just can't believe..."

"Then I'll need a signature right here..." and I cut her off, and force the clipboard on her like it's a burning bag of shit, snatching it back as she goes on about how I need to tell the designer how unhappy she was with the arrangement, which I assure her I will, and then I show her my ass as I beat a hasty retreat to the van, with her still yammering about things as I'm shutting my door, mouthing affirmatives that I'll indeed let the world know about her unhappiness.

Which I suppose I have, after a fashion, here on the interweb.

I am baffled by someone's suspicions of 'who is sending me flowers?', I mean Christ, it's not like someone's trying to steal your fucking identity and asking for your ATM pin numbers or something, they're doing something nice for you.

Curiousity I understand, a suspicious tone, no. "Oh, a surprise!"

Not "What the fuck's the meaning of this?

I also take issue with the idea of nitpicking what someone sends you as a gift as well, who the fuck are you to judge what someone sees fit to send you as a 'hey, I was thinking of you' gift anyway? Particularly flowers, because who gives a shit, it'll all be dead in a week or so anyway, why get so twisted over such a non-issue? If it's an ugly lamp that you feel obligated to display, or a hideous sweater that you're now stuck wearing, those kind of shitty gifts I can understand a bit of annoyance with, but a vase full of dying plants? Is that really worth making such a stink about?

Oh, and the bottom line of this whole bullshit story was that the woman called the store later, (possibly picking up on how little I actually cared about her protestations) bitching about the arrangement, and our phone person got the pleasure of assuring her that the arrangement in question was exactly what was pictured in the FTD catalog that her friends from far away had selected, and that they perhaps only loved her $35 much, rather than however much she thought they should've spent on her.

Ha. I hope your roses die, Mildred.

Be seeing you.

Is This How Santeria Works?

I had made a crack about my boss being like a headless chicken in yesterday's post, and how I was dreading the weekend, because she'll be freaking out the whole time. I go in this morning, expecting nothing beyond the usual drama, and the boss is complaining of stomach pain, and I jokingly offer her my trash can, in case she needs to purge a bit, she says that it's a different kind of pain, not like an upset stomach at all.

By ten in the morning, she's gone to the emergency room, which has me alarmed, because I have time off I need to ask her about, and because if she is indeed that bad off, I'm wondering if I've somehow jinxed her with my negativity. I was fully expecting that they'd call from the hospital saying that her stomach was full of snakes and I'd end up in my own private version of The Believers or The Serpent And The Rainbow. What they found out was ailing her, I never knew, but she got some sort of shots, and came back to work briefly, and then went home for the day, I never heard mention of anything creepy relating to the illness, so I relaxed a little bit for the afternoon.

I did listen to a lot of horror related stuff today, specifically the newest Horror Podcast, The Monster Squad Terrorcast, and a new Night Of The Living Podcast, which was particularly amusing, and even more scatalogical than usual.

Having cleared the visual palate last evening with a late screening of Jarhead (decent, if anti-climactic), I felt refreshed cinematically enough to jump in with a couple of horror films to continue with our Halloween themed viewing this evening. I had the joy of showing the wife Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer, a film I'd not seen in at least ten years, and one she'd never seen in all her true crime travels. It also turnes out to be a film which she apparently found a little 'flat' for her tastes, which was exactly why I liked it. The matter-of-fact style of the film, as if we are simply watching a trio of people during a few days or weeks in their lives, and then the film simply ends, rather than having what one would expect for the usual climax of the film, it just gave it more of a bleak quality for me.

I'm out, and tomorrow's post may be even later than usual (for the six of you that still read this), so bear with me, I will be working late tomorrow night, but Daddy will be thinking of you kids.

Be seeing you.

Where Has My Day Gone?

I was under the crazy impression that I'd get a few movies watched today, and possibly write a bit for the other site, but that wasn't in the cards, I ended up sleeping late, and then got a mid-morning call from the uncle I mentioned this past Sunday, who was in town with my aunt, and curious what I was up to.

K and I met them for a long lunch, and made plans to see them later in the afternoon. K had some sort of random meeting scheduled mid-afternoon, so I chilled out and watched a bit more of the Robot Chicken stuff, and ended up dozing on the couch for a bit, only to get a call around four telling me that the relatives had got caught up with their shopping, and had to drop off stuff out at the house, and would be popping in after K got back from her meeting, around 6:00 in the evening.

My thought process was that we'd possibly all go and grab a bite to eat for supper, and/or possibly watch a flick or something at the house. This was not to happen, as I said above, it simply wasn't in the cards. I always tend to get a little quiet around the relatives, which K has commented on, but I think it tends to be because most of what they are talking about is stuff I've heard before, which isn't a dig, I mean that it's nice that the wife has a chance to get a clearer picture of my family life from back in the day, without my own personal views that might color it. Basically anything the wife has learned about my mother and father has been in relation to how I remember things, and I think it's nice to sit back and let the aunt and uncle paint more of a vivid picture about my origins, as they knew them as friends and confidants, rather than simply as parents, as I knew them. I've had a wild hair this evening, and wanted to post a picture from the hey-day of my parents and relative's era, so check this shit out, the lapels and sideburns place things firmly in the seventies, beyond that I'm not certian about dates. I would also like to add that we are indeed an Anglo family, although this sepia-tinged photo looks as though it might have been taken of an immigrant family from Greece wandering off the boat at Ellis Island. I also think that I look suspiciously like that Dondi kid from the old comic strip from way back when. Especially the ears, which I've somewhat grown into in the intervening 25 or so years since that photo was taken.

On this sentimental bullshit note, I think I'm going to cut things short this evening, load up the iPod and get ready for work tomorrow, which should be stressful, as we will be preparing for a wedding this weekend, so my boss will be doing her usual headless chicken routine. I have always called her Henny Penny, because when any small amount of stress pops up, she starts freaking the fuck out like it's the end of the world, and we always get things done, and no one ends up dead, yet she freaks out every time, which I would think she'd get over after her 20 years in the business, but I would be wrong.

Be seeing you.

No Dice With The Dachshund

I made an unsuccessful attempt today to have lunch with our friend Jenny, or The Dachshund as our group of friends has come to know her, but because I'm a bad friend and promptly blotted out what her work schedule was within minutes of her telling me this past Sunday, I don't even know for certian that she was even available today. I simply had a vague recollection of her saying that she was off around one in the afternoon some day this week.

Having made such an elaborate and well thought plan, I simply can't imagine how it could've possibly gone awry.

I instead met the wife for lunch, after running into Best Buy and finally picking up a copy of A Prairie Home Companion for her (because those pricks never got it in last week, when it was released), and since the TiVo has decided to stop recording them, the first season of Robot Chicken for myself. I'm looking forward to checking out Altman's take on Garrison Keillor's long-running show, since K and I had a chance to see him last year in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Quite an amusing spectacle he puts on, and I was completely cracked up with the crowd, because aside from the odd couple here or there, or someone's children or grandchildren, K and I were pretty much the youngest couple attending our own free will, this only going to further my thoughts that I'm going to make a great old man one day soon. Keillor is a clever humorist, and holy shit, what a perfect face for radio, if ever the phrase were coined for good reason...wow.

Now the Robot Chicken, however, that program is just amazingly wrong on so many levels, and never fails to make me laugh out loud at least once during the brief fifteen minutes they have for each episode. I was also pretty much amazed at how many voice actors they get in to do their own voices and poke fun at themselves, including such odd and diverse people as Ryan Seacrest, Burt Reynolds, Dom Deluise, and Sarah Michelle Gellar, just to name a random handful that I happened to catch in the credits.

I got an e-mail from a friend today, which was to let me know that he has actually taken the plunge and is now living in the Philippines for the next six months, just to see how well he likes it, and if it would be feasible to start a business over there. He has a blog set up to record some of his adventures, and a link on there to a Flickr photo page, so if you're curious how the other half lives, and by the other half, I mean the Third World, go and give it a peep, it should make for very interesting reading.

There are a couple of new reviews up on the BSL, if you're interested in that kind of thing.

I'm out.

Be seeing you.

Why Must These People Make So Many Friends?

Living as we do in an oil town in West Texas, when one of the older members of the 'old money' families passes away, we're besieged with funeral work.

Today was one of those days. I never thought we'd see the end of it, and to make matters worse, Chatty Cathy took it upon herself to 'help out' and pick up the ever-ringing phone a few times, I mean, literally twice, and spent over an hour waxing philosophical with the poor customers about life, and loss, and what the fuck ever else popped into her head. She has this awful problem of not being able to ask simple direct questions, and then receive answers and hang up, she feels the need to get involved in these people's lives, explain to them how she once knew the deceased person's housekeeper's neighbor, and is thus somehow connected to the events at hand. I'm guessing that since nothing very interesting ever happens in her life, she has to find new and creative ways to connect herself to whatever interesting that might be happening.

Work was a grueling ordeal that I was hoping it wouldn't be, because I'd half-heartedly promised the wife I'd go to the penultimate night of puppy school with she and the Yorkie. I got in from work, briefly crossing paths with the wife, who was on her way out to a board-meeting at 6:00, put on my lounge wear for the hour and half that K was gone, trying desperately to doze, but to no avail.

I mustered my courage, and got dressed, and we headed out to the local Petsmart for what I can only imagine is the worst dog training course available, I mean, Christ, I was anticipating bad, as the dog seems to be learning very little, but damn, it was even worse than I imagined. The girl had no real directions for anyone, just saying shit like "Okay, let's practice heel", and just smiling half-heartedly like she worked at the DMV when the dog did anything but heel, as if it was basically up to us to figure out what the hell we needed to be doing different. She gave no actual instruction whatsoever, and even went so far as to ask us as a class what we wanted to do next, as there was obviously no planned lesson or agenda. We eventually got to go outside in the guise of a potty break for the animals, but more (I suspect) because she wanted a smoke break. I also question the idea of putting our 4 pound Yorkie in the same class with a group of dogs who probably had over 4 pounds of food digesting in their lower intestine, I mean, there wasn't a dog in the class that wasn't a German Shepard or another larger sized breed of dog.

I was amazed that we're paying these people for this half-assed class, but I suppose at the very least, little Bella is pretty accustomed to being around larger dogs now, which is probably a good thing.


Watched a little tube this evening, a Halloween-themed episode of The Girls Next Door, which had Bridget, the resident ghoul (pictured above), dragging the Girls around L.A. on the hunt for ghostly activity at any number of 'spooky' sites, including the Black Dahlia's murder scene. They took a picture of her laying in the same spot, which is now someone's fucking lawn, so I was waiting for some grouchy old man to come out to either hit on them or run them off his precious property, shaking his cane with vigorous enthusiasm in either case. I returned a few e-mails, and noticed that sKincarver has posted a new review (Calvaire) over at the BSL, go check it out if you're a fan of...I dunno, perilous travels through the French countryside. Since I have a few days off, before the weekend's wedding to prepare for at work, I want to try to actually sit down and write a few things for the site, just to keep things fresh. I seem to have a hard time committing to both that site and this one, but the Bastards will always end up on top, if only so I can say I stuck it out til the bitter fucking end.

I'm out.

Be seeing you.

I'm Still Going To Hell

The wife and I had a late lunch with Robbb, and caught up a bit on what's been going on with his hectic life, and even had a chance to run by the mall and in what I'm sure I'll never view as my finest hour, we purchased a set of costumes for the wedding later in the month. I can now say that I am the proud (?) owner of a priest costume with an inflating little pump thingy, so it looks as if I have an erection for the ceremony.

What can I say, it was less of a hassle than trying to get a prescription for Cialis.

The wife's costume, however, was completely fucked up, since she's meant to be a pregnant nun, and the costume we bought for her was supposed to have a nice little decorative neckline, and a habit headpiece, along with the little pregnant belly. What we got in the package was another priest outfit, which was actually fortuitous, as the one in my package fit me like a sausage skin, and the one in hers was larger, but we're still out a nun's habit and whatnot, so that now needs to be exchanged.

On the upside, I don't look like an eleven year old with a painted on beard like the guy in the picture on the package, nor do I get kinda cross-eyed when I get a stiffy, like he apparently does, so at least I have that going for me.

I was able to catch a flick on the Sundance Channel that I've been wanting to see for awhile now, a French survivalist horror(?) flick called Calvaire, which was pretty interesting, even if I was a little thrown with the ending. There should be something up for it on Big Suck Loser soon.

We also had a great new episode of the new favorite television show Dexter on Showtime this evening, who appear to be offering the first two episodes for viewing at this site here, which looks to be a grab for you to subscribe to Showtime, if you don't have the channel, you should definitely give it a look. I've yet to be disappointed by anything on the show, though I have learned to dislike a few of the characters that you're not supposed to identify with. I suppose that means that they're doing their job.

Listening to the last couple of Subculture Collective shows as I type this, Donny gave us another Psychobilly Fury on Friday, good music and detail of a flame war with some guy online that makes me glad I don't mingle with too many folks on the web, because I imagine things like that get to be a pain in the ass. Madhouse Mauly has a new Evil A Go-Go up, with a bit of a zombie theme this time around, go and check it out.

The iPod is locked and loaded for tomorrow, and I know for certian that I have at least one errand to run for the shop in the morning, which should get me out of the store for awhile.

Sad to think that I'm already planning my escape a day in advance.

Be seeing you.

Can You Please Hold Your Nagging 'Til The End? Thank You.

The workday was surprisingly easy to deal with, although I did get stuck driving with my old buddy Myspace to deliver one of the boss-lady's parties, but she wasn't too annoying today, though she did take the opportunity to make sure to run down one of the front-end folks, and tell me how she was able to salvage a situation that said person screwed up.

What she apparently fails to realize is that I'm not actually in charge of handing out the medals for that type of shit. And that there aren't any actual medals.

And no one really cares.

Anyway....

Work was blah, I was able to listen to a mere few items on the Pod, as we were fairly slow, and I kept getting fished into conversation with the dreaded co-workers. Apparently the girl who just recently got an apartment with her boyfriend found out a few days ago that he's leaving on Monday to go back to California, and live with his parents, something he neglected to mention to her at all, effectively ending the relationship.

I did get a chance last night to catch this nifty little documentary on cable via Starz called Going To Pieces: The Rise and Fall Of The Slasher Film, which was fairly informative, the wife actually enjoyed it, maybe she's looking for a window into my madness.

K's mother dropped in during our viewing, and got to see a particularly gruesome scene from the film Pieces, of a knife being driven through the back of a woman's head and exiting through her mouth, which is precisely what a parent wants to think her son-in-law watches for entertainment value whilst entrusted with the love and well-being of her youngest daughter.

Don't worry about a thing Mom, yer daughter is in good hands.

I spoke with my uncle this evening, and got caught up a bit, and also learned of an old superstition that speaks ill of our bull-dyke chickens, insinuating that their crowing foretells death. I also talked with him a bit about the blog here, which I'm amused to keep forgetting that some of my family might be reading, but as I told him this evening, I want this to reflect me in my entirety, which is equal parts sacred and profane, sometimes both at the same time, and I can proudly say that I've inadvertantly shown my uncle a picture of Lindsay Lohan's shaved snatcheteria, which makes me giggle just thinking about it.

Later in the evening, we were visited by K's friend from Austin, who was one of her bridesmaids and is quite possibly the most annoying acquaintance that K maintains any kind of regular contact with. This girl, let's call her Austin for simplicity's sake, is also somewhat recently married (within the past year) to her second husband, and has one child from a previous marriage, and one newborn with hubby number two. Hubby number two (and probably not the last one, in my negative, biased opinion) was raised Catholic, and must certianly be bucking for some sort of sainthood, because this crazy little bitch barely makes it in the door before she starts chewing on this poor bastard about something she forgot to bring with her because "I was so mad at you when we left."

I shit you not, those were the second words out of her mouth after hello, they'd not been in our home more than 35 seconds, and she's grousing at him about something, so he leaves and drives back across town to get what the fuck ever it was, no questions asked. Yeesh.

Same girl who saw some sort of little note I'd left for K on the table back when both of our couples were still in the dating stage, and she starts in on him about "Look how sweet Mob is, why aren't you this way?" This after they've just been telling us about how he's been doing all sorts of home repair for her around her house, and I had to step in for him and say "Look, I'm okay with words, your man here can fix your fucking plumbing, trust me, you're getting the better end of this deal, hands down. K is in the lucky position of being able to afford to have someone do repairs for her, because the toilet ain't gonna accept a fucking love letter in exchange for the tough clog, y'know? I have the luxury of being more romantic because I don't have to worry about trying to speed-read my way through the Time-Life Guide To Electricity For Imbeciles."

She proceeds to marry this guy, and is still trying to change him, just nagging and chipping away, but I suppose he's accustomed to it, since she's apparently been doing it from day one.

I'm just thankful I don't have to deal with that type of shit day in and day out, I'd kill us all before the ink was dry on the marriage license. It's also nice that they live about five hours away, so we don't have to sit though these type of shenanigans very often.

I'm out, I'm off to thank my wife for not driving me fucking crazy on a daily basis.

Be seeing you.

Friday The Christmasteenth

After the rant I had about there being nothing to do at work, I walked back in this morning to pretty much the same scene of the same people standing around talking, and about two of them half-heartedly working on something. I knew that if I watched Chatty Cathy walk around doing nothing for the entire morning, I might snap and kill her, so I took my own initiative and suggested that I go to the storage unit and begin dragging some of our age-old Christmas leftovers back to the store so we can gear up for our open house, which is about a month away.

I was thus able to pretty successfully kill my entire day this way, wedged within several pre-lit Christmas trees that no longer light, gently fluffing their dead-looking, unlit branches. Tip from me to you, pre-lit trees are a total fucking scam, it's been our experience that they lose at least one strand of lights per season, and they way they light these trees, strung by some sadistic slave labor camps filled with Chinese children, it's way more of a pain in the ass to pull the light off than to simply light the stupid tree yourself each year.

But I digress.

I had an uneventful day thus occupied, and was able to listen to a lot of stuff on the Pod, including the newest Reel Horror, back on their usual schedule, which was cool, and a new DVD Weekly Podcast, with an in-depth look at the recent Texas Chainsaw Massacre Special Edition. The Indie Spinner Rack guys interviewed Mark Siegel of First Second Books, who sound like a pretty interesting company, having landed work by Eddie (Bacchus) Campbell and Lewis (Mister O) Trondheim in their first year of publishing. Worth a look, they seem to be concentrating on self contained works rather than publishing single issue comics, unlike a lot of publishing houses, who try to do both, giving this company a very European flair.

A friend sent me an e-mail this afternoon, pointing me to the After Dark Horrorfest, which will be a series of 8 Films To Die For, a larger version of the trailer being available here, from Quicktime. I really think there's some truly creepy images in the trailer, which I guess is cobbled together with material from several, if not all eight of the films involved. I'm a getting to be a little over the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 'k-chee, k-chee' photo snapping noise, but the odd skittery sound effects and images has my curiousity up for sure. Give it a look.

Of course, after browsing their website a little, I also realize that the nearest this whole shebang is coming to our neck of the woods is a two hour drive away in Lubbock, to fight our way through a bunch of drunk jocks and other college kids, and possibly catch an STD, just from being around those nasty fuckers.

Or at least that's what I've been led to believe, as a crochety old man in training.

I may, as with many things, be waiting for video.


Be seeing you.

I Love My Job Part 17 (Or, This Is Precisely Why No One Here Can Have A Raise This Year)

I was reminded today why I just have to try to keep my nose to the grindstone and not let the goings on in the workplace around me sink in too deeply, because that way lies frustration and madness.

An hour before closing, we were done with all of today's orders, and all of the orders for tomorrow, and I asked the assistant manager if she cared if I left, and was told that we could always make some items for the cooler, for the cash and carry type sales, even though the cooler was basically full. The rest of the employees were engaged as follows, two actually working, two standing around chatting and generally being useless, I ask to leave, and waste less of their payroll, and get forced to stay.

This is why our bottom line is in the toilet, not because, as our boss is convinced, that we are giving away too much product in arrangements and not charging accordingly.

Since I'm still paid by the hour, I made a couple more arrangments, and shoe-horned them into the already stuffed cooler, made a personal phone-call on company time, and then left at closing, thank you for the free money, suckers.

This was the first picture of fresh flowers I ran across via Google images, it's not my actual work, so don't be alarmed. FYI, that lily is just shy of dead in the middle of the arrangement, we'd never use one that blown open, cause our snooty customers would just be bitching about it being dead within a few hours. See, this is what I mean about my own knee-jerk work ethic, I couldn't give a shit about this job for the most part, but still feel a commitment to doing it to the best of my abilities, in spite of myself.

I blame my parents for instilling something resembling a conscience in me.

I listened to a good deal of backlogged stuff on the iPod today, in my efforts to pass the time quickly: Several new Reel Horror Podcasts, back from a brief technologically induced hiatus, and bickering as much as ever, great stuff. I also gave a spin to the latest Hellbilly Wreckhouse and Hellbilly Nightmare, each well worth your time, give them a click folks, you won't hear this stuff on your local radio anytime soon. Hopping in the wayback machine, I checked into more of the older Keemecasts, one of which had him talking on the phone with a 24-yr-old guy who found his bank card, and promptly ran home and ordered a fucking $700 sword online with it, and had it delivered to his mom's house, where he lives, and Keeme was able to speak on the phone with him and not just be consumed with rage and threaten his family and pets. Holy shit, I can't even imagine how pissed I'd be, much less be able to speak coherently to the guy on the phone.

I was very saddened to find out this evening vie their site that Nate and Di are no longer going to be podcasting, due to a variety of reasons, day-jobs and a recent rash of personalized vandalism in particular being contributing factors. They had a wonderfully funny, sacrilegious run while it lasted, and the vandalism most likely stems from someone who doesn't agree with silly notions like freedom of speech, as they alone were targeted, backing up the age-old arguement that people suck.

On a lighter note, check out the Genrebusters Podcast, which features coverage of more offbeat cinema, and is produced out of Seattle here in the States, one of their recent episodes covered a film sKincarver recently reviewed over at Big Suck Loser, Deathtrance, one that D. Davis of the 'cast talked up a great deal over on the (Cool) Shite forums and was what actually turned me on to the film in the first place. Give em a look.

Tired kids, I'm out, more funny tomorrow, I promise.

Be seeing you.

You Can't Fight City Hall, But You Can Call Their Home Office And Possibly Get Something Done

Well the good news is that I'm not hunting and pecking this from a jail cell with someone in on a murder beef trying to massage my shoulders as a hamfisted form of foreplay. We did indeed go to the DPS early this afternoon, I actually made certian I didn't eat lunch before hand, as I know I get pretty grouchy when I don't eat, and figured if these people wanted to be dicks, I should bring my 'A' game. The DPS waiting room is akin to walking into a fucking freak show that you didn't know was there, and I nearly said some sort of expletive when I dropped by wondering eyes onto the random assortment of humanity sitting, patiently holding their precious numbers that they hoped against hope that one of the two employees working would soon call. Seriously, two fucking employees, I shoulda tried to rally the great unwashed and destroy whatever we found behind their precious counters. We sit down with our number in hand, and I'm immediately greeted with a poster of a horrifically burned person who looks like one of the villians from The Hills Have Eyes re-make, informing us that the victims of drunk driving don't always die.

Holy shit, a bit more of a gruesome message than I was expecting, and then as I start taking in the room, we have a girl immediately across from us renewing a license whose eyes I swear to fucking God faced completely different directions, in the manner of a fish, and there's another guy so obese, he barely fits into the wheelchair his equally corpulent relative is guiding him around in, and I'm left wondering how the fuck they peel him out of that chair to even drive whatever it is he's needing a license for.

And then we're up, and I'd now love to pursue a career in some sort of government work where telling people "I'm sorry, we can do nothing" and shrugging with half hearted sympathy actually passes for doing your job.

"We ordered a driver's record over two months ago, and still haven't received it, what are we supposed to tell a judge at the end of the month?"

"I'm sorry, but you need to call this office in Austin, this is the only number for the public, we can't help you here."

"I understand that, but if they never pick up at this number, which has been our experience, what are we supposed to do at that point? Will the judge accept the fact that we've tried to order the records?"

"No, you have to take the records."

"Which you guys can't give us and they won't send. Is there anything else that we can tell them?"

"No, you have to take the records, and we can't help you here. You need to call this number."

"Yeah, we're getting that, okay? But you can't give us the records here, and since all you can give me is a shrug, you are of no use to me at all, but I suppose I appreciate you wasting my time here. Thanks a lot."

I actually had fucking heartburn when I left there, ladies and gentlemen, I was so fucking aggravated, and K began the useless dialing process with the Austin number as we walked out, adding loudly "Wow, that lady was kind of a bitch." which makes me laugh out loud, because my wife doesn't usually get that pissy with people.

I personally sat on the phone at our next stop, so K could talk freely with one of her people she volunteers for, and eventually got ahold of a real live fucking person after a 24 minute wait, and we now allegedly have a second copy of said records on their way to us for arrival within 5 business days. This is also what they said the first time, so I'll believe it when I see it.

Ran a shitload of errands, and eventually made our way back home, checked out the e-mails and stuff, saw this cool pic from the next Frank Miller film adaptation 300 online, which I ran across via Filmrot.

I'm currently charging up the Pod with all manner of new stuff for the workday tomorrow, I'm curious what the day will hold, I haven't been there on a Thursday for a few weeks.

We watched a couple of flicks this evening, Evil Dead Trap and Land Of The Dead, which I had seen before. I hope I don't burn the wife out on the whole horror schtick before the month is over. I also watched the first annual Scream Awards that I'd TiVo'd last night, which was kind of cool, I enjoyed that they gave out awards for comics stuff, and actually honored Frank Miller himself, but some of the awards, such as Favorite Scream Queen going to Kate Beckinsale, for Underworld: Evolution was a little puzzling, as she doesn't so much scream as she beats everyone's ass in that film, but whatever, it was nice to see a horror-themed awards show on television.

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Everytime I think I'm out they drag me back in.....I had actually posted when I ran across this:

Angela has apparently 'tagged' me, which from what I gather in the blog-world is akin to those silly-ass information request chain-letter things that used to fill up my inbox until I stopped answering them altogether and began simply sending a virus back to those who forwarded it, but since I've only received one of these, I figure what the fuck, I'll play ball and even 'tag' a few people, but nowhere near as many as she did, because on the web, as in real life, I have very few friends.

Checkit:

1) Would you bungee jump?

Hell no, and thankfully, the wife's already done it, so she won't be trying to con me into doing it either.

2) If you could do anything in the world for a living what would it be?

I'd love to be paid to write this silly anecdotal crap I blog about for a living

3) Your favorite fictional animal?

Mathew the Raven from the Sandman stuff

4) One person who never fails to make you laugh?

sKincarver

5) When you were 12 years old what did you want to be when you grew up?

A comic book artist.

6) What is the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?

Get licked in the face by the Yorkie, the alarm goes off and it's go time for her.

7) Have you ever gone to therapy?

No.

8) If you could have one super power what would it be?

Super speed, I feel like I waste a lot of time on various projects, it'd help me out a lot.

9) Your favorite cartoon character?

Peter Griffin

10) Do you go to church?

Only on holidays

11) What is your best childhood memory?

Summers playing with G.I. Joes in the backyard.

12) Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?

No.

13) Do you own a gun?

No.

14) Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?

Not that I'm aware of.

15) Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people?

No. Fuck, I'm boring, why in the hell was Angela curious to hear my answers, anyway?

16) What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?

Face usually, the smile is key, if it doesn't quite reach the eyes, they seem very disingenuous to me.

17) What is your biggest mistake?

Getting up most mornings.

18) Say something totally random about yourself.

I started blogging because a guy I disliked on a forum had a link to his own blog, and I read a few entries and thought, man I could totally kick that writing's ass.

19) Has anyone ever said that you looked like a celebrity?

Yeah, I get a weird split between Nicholas Cage (which I think is based on mannerisms I have, not necessarily looks) and John Cusack, which I can sorta see, dark hair and a kinda flat face...

20) What is the most romantic thing someone of the opposite sex has done for you?

As a Christmas gift last year, the wife, unbeknownst to me, took a camera out to my parents old home, which is now over-grown and abandoned, and took a series of arty black and white photos, and placed them in a large trunk she had bought for one of my gifts, because she knew I wanted something to store all my little saved stuff from our life together, movie tickets, and little souvenier-type items. I was completely surprised, and very touched, especially now that the house was eventually levelled.

21) Do you actually read these when other people fill them out?

Sometimes.

And as I said, I don't have a whole helluva lot of people I think would feel comfortable bothering with this, and if those that I do don't feel like playing in the reindeer games, that's cool too, I doubt I'll do this again, but I figure everyone should give it a whirl once.

Therefore, I tag:
sKincarver, cause it'll probably annoy him.
Yasamin, cause I think she'd get a kick out of it.
Ultra Toast Mosha God, cause he's my only bloggin' buddy I've met in person, and I don't think he's done this type of thing on his blog.
Ellen Aim, cause she's only trying to settle into a house and finish planning a wedding, so I figure she has plenty of time to jack with this type of thing, right?

I'm going to let Shroomy slide, 'cause I think I recall her saying she didn't want to do these anymore, but I did think of her as well.

Be seeing you.

Satan's Little Turkey

I woke up fairly early this morning, and saw the wife off to a couple of meetings, before having breakfast and popping in the second disc of the Samurai Champloo series that's been languishing on the coffee table from Netfux for well over a week, which is quite bothersome to me that I don't even need them to throttle my rentals, I screw myself quite well on the deal as it is.

Daveyyojimbo drove over, meeting me at the house, then he and I and the wifey had a nice Thai House lunch, before dropping the wife back off at the house while he and I went trolling (somewhat unseccessfully) for DVD's at Best Buy and the like. I like to think that when I did the same job as the retail drones I encounter, perhaps I had a little more of a sense of decorum while on the sales floor than the folks I encounter now in my shopping travels. I never fail to be amazed by what these people are talking about, at full volume on the sales floor, either personal stories that they have no business sharing within earshot of customers, or about actual customers themselves, which was what I overheard today, some goofy ass kid telling a co-worker how stupid a woman was, because she always came in asking for the same item, that they never had, what was her deal, right? That's virtually verbatim, and I wanted to go and kinda nudge him (gently, upside the head) and ask if he ever fucking thought of ordering the item for her, or telling her that it doesn't fucking exist, so she can save everyone a lot of time, instead of just playing dumb each time he encounters her.

Bah. Kids these days.

This evening we saw K's mother briefly, which gave her time to talk about the planned Christmas in Wyoming she wants to take everyone on, which is of course a big giant pain in the ass for those of us within the family who hold down what I like to refer to as 'real jobs', in that they don't involve working for the family business, or just not working, which is pretty much the story for everyone else involved in this trip who's not retirement age, and then of course, the retirees themselves, who are chomping at the bit for a miserably cold Christmas celebration.

K and I watched a weird little flick this evening called Satan's Little Helper, by a director I've heard of before named Jeff Lieberman, but had never actually seen anything by. A completely strange film, almost hallucinatory at times, with a kid who wants to be like a character in his video game who helps out Satan, and ends up aiding a killer who is running amuck in his neighborhood on Halloween dressed as a white faced Satan Man character. The film is pretty crazy, with a weird sense of humor, and the characterizations are fairly off the wall, the kid seems to have zero sense of reality, his family are all pretty odd as well, but I found myself liking this for the sheer weirdness of it all. I want to try and write a little review for the Big Suck Loser tonight, after I get this posted, just to frustrate myself with our new submission template, which I'm bound and determined to get a Goddamned handle on even if it kills me.

We have to run by the Department Of Public Safety tomorrow, because the wife, in her lead-footed driving, has been put in a situation where she needs and has paid for a copy of her driving record, and still has yet to recieve it these 3 months later. This is becoming more pressing as she has to show this to a judge by the end of this month, so tomorrow I'm going to be going out and stirring a nest of beauracratic bees tomorrow morning, so the next post may be from jail, if they give us any static. I should also imagine it might be less colorful than usual, as I figure it will be difficult to try and be funny while fending off sweaty convicts.

Be seeing you.

Packages Are Fun

Bear with me kids, I've decided to play around with the option of adding photos and illustrations to this stupid thing, we'll see how this goes. After having a couple months to play around with the Big Suck Loser HTML templates while submitting, I finally feel confident enough to give this a shot, if only to make it a little more visually interesting for all four of you who troll by here daily.

I was happy to receive a box in today's post from Bud Plant, who had shipped with amazing speed a set of books I'd ordered last week. I'm quite happy to own a set of Barry Windsor-Smith's Opus collections, which were actually on sale for less than the first volume's cover price. I've been eyeing these two books for a good long time, but when I saw the hardcovers on sale for about $40 with shipping, I figured I had to break down and pick them up. I've always loved Windsor-Smith's work, he has such a beautiful blend of pen and ink with watercoloring, with a kind of classical Renaissance style.

Talking of artists, I've been meaning to rave over the work of someone I discovered on the Not Safe For The Workplace Cu-Cu blog, which is a fabulous collection of asses, culled from the interweb's enormous porn archives by a very dedicated woman from Portugal. She posted a piece by a French artist named Jean-Claude Claeys, whose art can be seen on his site here, but beware kids, it's most assuredly not work safe, unless you enjoy a drastically different work environment than most folks I know, because it features a lot of Heavy Metal style flapping Euro-penis and gratuitous female nudity. It is also done in a beautiful style that reminds me of Tim Bradstreet a lot, an artist who is known for his work with White Wolf, as well as numerous Vertigo covers in more recent years. I also see a bit of Corben in the shadowing and textures as well, I'd be curious to find out who has influenced who over the years. Claeys site is translated via the nice folks at Google, so if the language seems odd, bear with it and check out the artwork, hell, I was fumbling around the site for a good ten minutes in French before it even occurred to me to search again and see if there was a translated option.

Give it a look, there's a lot of great art on any of the above mentioned sites.

The weather has been pretty odd the past few days, rainy and overcast, dreary as hell, which isn't very conducive to getting anything done around the house, so with the next couple days off (yeah, I know, I don't get it either, why the fuck have me work one day and then give me another two off?) I want to get a few things done around the house, and if these silly pics work out like I want them to, I may try to play around with more of that type of thing, just to get a more appealing visual for the casual reader.

Be seeing you.