It went fine. Naturally, there were suggestions for improvement, but fearless leader could not actually tell me how to improve. So…it’s like I said - no better idea now than before I walked in.
The good news - I keep my job and can probably squeeze ‘em for more moola next month.
The bad news - I keep my job and it will pay me more, making my quest for self-employment increasingly difficult.
Sometimes life is hard, ya know?
From here. But I thought it was interesting, plus I like to steal things. Can you read it?
Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can.
i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno’t mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it .
Warehouse guy: “Hey Mark!”
Me: “What?”
Warehouse guy: “See you next Tuesday!”
What the fuck over? Maybe you won’t see me next Tuesday. Or even Wednesday. Maybe I’ll take vacation and not even come in at all that week!
See, that’s the problem with the guys in the warehouse. They’re a right bunch of cunts.
[Update] Texting me with “CU Next Tuesday” also not funny.
Wednesday morning will bring an amusing opportunity full of non-directional, nonsensical blathering. Much small talk will be made and there will be awkward silences as one party continuously forgets what he wanted to say. Intermittently, phrases like “I’m looking to you to lead us to victory here” and “It’s a challenge” will be used. No real direction or tangible benefits will be discussed. In the end, I will leave this opportunity with no greater knowledge of what is expected of me than when I arrived.
It’d be more amusing were it not a description of my boss giving me my annual review…
On a lighter and brighter note, this new theme looks a hell of a lot better than the one with the tulips. A big “merci” goes out to this French dude. Now, I just need to come up with a cool header graphic. Something flashy, unique, and wonderous. All I need is my macro lens, one of my nipples, and a little privacy.
Yesterday, we were relaxing at my parents house and enjoying Memorial Day. Maddie was running around with a towel draped over her. My mom commented that when she and her sister were children, they used to drape themseleves in towels and pretend to be nuns.
I told her that my friends and I used to touch each other and pretend that we were priests.
hehe
Amazing. I was just listening to the radio, and during one of the commercial breaks, was one of those obnoxious car commercials. You know the type, practically yelling, fast-talking - basically advertising designed for fucking idiots.
So…this commercial begins with a stand-up comedy clip that sounds a lot like Jeff Foxworthy doing his “you might be a redneck if..” routine. It may have been Jeff Foxworthy, but he’s a wanker, so I can’t be bothered to investigate further. Anyway, the wanker comedian says:
“If you’re banker avoids you when you’re walking down the street, you might have a credit problem.”
“If your car was repossessed last night, you might have a credit problem.”
Huh?
If your car was repo’d last night, you don’t need a new car today. You need a swift kick to the head, and maybe one to the groin to boot. Those truly desperate for transportation (i.e. buses and trains don’t go within 10 miles of where you have to be so that you can have shelter and your children have food) should buy a piece-of-crap beater that’ll let you get to work and sort your life out. The last thing you need is another jacked-up loan and a $400 car payment.
Commercials like that piss me off. It represents everything wrong with this and many other countries at the present time. “I want” is now “I need” and people can’t tell the fucking difference.
The Irish Times reports that Bertie Ahern will now lead the country until 2012. Apparently, my fellow Irish citizens have not had enough of the corruption (or ineptitude) that accompanies Bertie and his band of merry crooks. I’d write more about it, but Twenty sums it up better than I have the energy for right now.
As of 6 AM this morning, it’s good to be back home. For the next 5 years, I’m glad home is not Ireland…
Red Mum has a great youtube clip on her blog regarding the Irish elections and Bertie Ahern. Did I ever tell you that I met Bertie? Funnily enough, it was at a dog track in Dublin (just like the Galway races scene in the video). My cousins convinced me that it would be a good place to hang out, and I was stupid gullible enough to believe them. Let’s just say that they each got a well-deserved kick in the privates, and that I won’t be watching any dogs run again.
As I was saying, I met Bertie once, and thought he was a right prick.
You know what the best thing about room service (a.k.a. an In-Room Dining experience) is? That’s right; it comes to your room - any time of the day. This is important to me because I despise eating in restaurants alone. Call it paranoia, but I can almost feel my fellow diners feeling sorry for “that loser over there whose date stood him up.” It’s not hard to run out of places to stare momentarily before you end up meeting someone’s eye. Of course, you know your paranoia is reality if you get a sympathetic smile. If she’s hot though, I prefer to take that as an “un-actionable flirtation.” For whatever reason(s), that’s never actually happened to me…
Right, I’m off. It’s 1:08 AM and I’m just getting back to the hotel after work. Delectable delicacies are enroute to room 2311.
Remember Murphy, the guy with his own law? He came to see me today. I arrived at the Guarulhos airport in Brazil this afternoon in plenty of time for my flight to Santiago de Chile. Fortunately, I was in for a real treat. You see, today was also chosen by the Immigration Inspectors for a work slowdown. The net result was that I missed my flight by an hour and a half and spent almost three and a half hours in a line that barely moved. That gave me a lot of time to ponder.
First and foremost, the largest possible “fuck you” goes out to all the Immigration Inspectors at Guarulhos airport. You made old people wait, and you made women and children wait for hours before being processed. Worst of all, you made me wait. At one point during this pathetic comedy, a desperate couple about to miss their flight, dodged past most of the line and presented themselves at the Immigration kiosk. The Immigration Inspector refused to review their documents and chastised the two for skipping the line. The husband then turned around to the crowd of about 300 people and asked in Portuguese if anyone objected to them being next in line. The crowd roared back to let him through (something about “passé”, so I got the point). The inspector still refused and eventually airport officials took the couple away where they were likely warned or beaten with rubber hoses fined.
I have decided to start praying again, simply to ask God that you be handed a worse-than-shit contract at the end of your labour negotiations, or whatever the hell the reason for the slowdown was. I mean that and I will be praying hard. I hope it is horrible. If God is truly good, he will hear my prayers and smite thee.
I was going to post something about my fellow Americans and how loud and obnoxious some of us can be when travelling abroad. However, I’m not going to write about that as I can’t figure out a way to phrase “I don’t want to listen to you cry for 3 hours behind me in line, so keep your whining, oversized cake-hole shut” tactfully. Just forget that I even brought it up…
Finally, as the waiting line snaked back and forth, there was a young English-speaking couple that I was adjacent to for a short time. I was astounded listening to you. Do you not realize that some of the people around you can understand what you are talking about?
Him: So you’re telling me that after getting used to “firsts”, now I’m gonna have to settle for “seconds”?
Her: Uh-huh
Him: Fine
Look, I’m pretty sure that I know what that exchange is about. If I’m right, and you read this, then for research purposes only, I’m willing to listen to further details. Email me.
Please.
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