Hollaback!

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Its another normal day. Female Boss is out in the sitting room on the black patent leather couch taking in a little MTV. Come to think of it, I don't think it was MTV cuz music videos were actually on. Parumph! Nevertheless, this is what Female Boss is doing. A song ends and then comes Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl." I am indifferent to the song, I can listen to it and I couldn't care less about it. Most of you know how I feel about most music today and if you don't click on my profile, you idiot. When the title of the song appears on the screen, Female Boss says, "Ohhhh, Gwen Stefani. I love her!"

She's kinda diggin' the song at first, but once the chorus plays Female Boss asks, "Hollaback Girl? What's that? Do you know what that is?"

Answering questions for Female Boss prevents critical thinking, so I say, "No" in order to provoke said critical thinking. Its a tedious regiment but it is the only way I can force the Hand of Idiocy to touch Female Boss on the forehead so consistently. As we all learned from the example of Pavlov's dog, it works. Female Boss begins probing deep within her mind, "Hmm, I don't know, seems like Gwen is losing her luster."

"How's that?" I ask.

"Have you seen this video? She is rolling in gangster cars and talking about Hollaback. I don't know what that means but I don't like it."

I take a peek over my shoulder and see her sneering at the television with her arms crossed, "You know, I thought she was one of the more talented up and coming new artists. Now I just don't know. I can't watch this, its depressing me."

Female Boss cuts off the TV and comes back into the room. I am not sure if I am more befuddled by her reaction to such an inane song or if I should add Gwen Stefani to my Shit List for bringing Female Boss back into the office when she was firmly planted on the couch. Here's to losing, sirs. Here's to losing.

More Karate Randomness

You gotta read the last handful of Friday posts to be up to speed on this series of tales on fisticuffs if you haven't yet. Week 1, Week 2, Week 3, Week 4 and Week 5.

To the core, HMT and I didn't take any guff while training at Sensei Clause's dojo unless it came from Sensei Clause himself. Bcuz in that case, he and I would have been ground into sausage.. no thanks. Instead of standing up to his bullshit and pointing it out to him, something that would give him just cause to buy intestinal casing and have some fun with us, HMT and I would mock the shit out of everything he stood for. This didn't happen until he had lost all credibility in our minds so there was no disrespect that wasn't royally due.

The best memory of mocking class I have with HMT was on a Saturday afternoon. A few of the teens had stayed after class and HMT and I would beat them up or train a bit with them.. which 9 times out of 10 would involve HMT and I beating them up. Sensei Clause had been teaching classes from his chair and HMT and I were about fed up with the bullshit. It was insane! Clause would place a chair in the middle of the dojo and give orders, complaining about a groin pull or whatever the fuck. Total horseshit! If Frank Dux could stomach it, surely the million dollar purse winning Sensei Clause could. Fuck no.. he couldn't.

So HMT and I had to retaliate the best way we saw fit.. by turning his dojo into a complete circus. In a box of goodies, Sensei Clause had rubber pistols and knives for various training exercises. They were great. Picture a 2x6 of thick rubber cut into the form of a gun. Funniest looking guns ever. Well, we picked up the guns and distributed them to a few teens and decided to make a "Gun Form." It pretty much entailed the traditional bowing to begin followed by bustin' caps in the others. Before long, we decided implemented knives into the form.. making the form more melee oriented would be better.. more Kung-Fu, as it were.

The form became more and more degenerate capitalizing on every frustration HMT and I had for the mediocre teaching Sensei Clause had offered as of late. After we bored of those shenanigans we broke out with animal forms. These new Kung-Fu animals include: the rear-kicking Mule Style and the drop onto your belly, tuck in your limbs underneath you, thrust out your head to bite your opponents, Snapping Turtle Style.

All the while Sensei Clause is oblivious to this. He had been in his office the entire time while the brainstorming was happening, so no one was the wiser. The sound of giggling school girls eventually caught his attention and by the time we were completely out of control, Sensei Clause walks in. There's only two things to do here, HMT and I chose to have the nerve to perform everything we had been concocting in front of him. Needless to say, he wasn't impressed and probably wanted to beat the shit out of all of us. Fuck that I say. Fuck it all. To mock him for just one day and really dishonor his dojo made my fuckin day for all the stupid shit he Clause put us through.

Character Introduction: The chap that I feel it is in everyone's best interest for me to mention is a fellow that HMT and I dubbed, Sweet Peterson. From the name alone I am sure you guys can figure out that he was as smooth as churned butter. Somewhere along his travels being employed as a myrmidon, for Achilles himself (that's about the gayest picture I could find, my compliments to homosexual sculptors.. fabuloouuuusss), Sweet Peterson picked up a Cloak of Swiftness. This guy was probably as awkward as they come. He just didn't seem comfortable in his own skin. A good piece of trivia was that Sweet Peterson not only took martial arts but also fencing. You'd think between the two the guy would be talented but seriously, had it not been for additional training in fencing he would have probably been even worse at karate. The statement itself seems preposterous but I assure you, its true.

The best way to describe the guy physically and fashion-wise... Lets just say he was a typical white pretty boy from the 80s that didn't fit the part and tried desperately to be like Val Kilmer from Top Gun by wearing his trusty bomber jacket. Now, in my opinion, there is nothing more irritating than when someone you know is a complete asshat tries to come off like he's the Iceman. That's the pinnacle of my hatred, asshat trying to come off as Iceman. Everything trickles down from there. Mmhmm.

Some memorable times with Sweet Peterson include kicking his ass every time I sparred with him, watching him attempting a spinning heel kick only to fall or catch himself very awkwardly before he fell, watching HMT kick his ass every time he sparred him, watching him crap out exhausted when the teens were still going strong and watching Sensei Clause kick his ass every time he sparred him. Fuck I miss the dojo. The reason for the introduction of Sweet Peterson rises to a thunderous crescendo in next week's post: Dojo Poker Nights.

Cheese Puffs

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, Male Boss finally comes forth with a tale worth telling. To put it lightly, Male Boss is a snacker. He likes to snack on just about anything, chips, cookies, pretzels, nuts, candies.. you name it. His treasure trove of goodies is usually changing hiding spots so it is hard for me to keep up with the stash and actually partake in the glory of it all.

For the last week or so, Male Boss has been really tearing through those jet puffed cheese flavored things. Not crunchy Cheeto's, but the puffy ones that looking like packing peanuts except orange. They're probably just as healthy but made from edible material instead. Male Boss has been wrecking those.. probably a bag or a bag and a half a day. Its rather disturbing to see him with what looks like a teenager's orange lip gloss on and orange tipped fingers to match. Not to mention how greasy things he handles are becoming. Who knew paper would turn see-through after just the right amount of grease is sloshed onto it.

Here's the meat of it all. Female Boss finds some dog treats in the shape of animal crackers that are jet puffed cheese treats at the pet store! I think we all know where this is going but there is always something more than just the obvious in the world of Angry Time. So cutting down on worthless details, Male Boss has at the large bag of cheese puff treats that has a dog's picture on the front. Certainly no amount of photos, warnings or detailed words are never enough to deter a man from his prey.

During the episode, Female Boss is out of the office and I still am yet to notice what Male Boss has gotten himself into. I just hear him doing his usual snacking. No big deal. He finishes the bag and comes into the office to do some work. Female Boss finally comes back.. about an hour before I leave. Male Boss starts his pissed off rant on Female Boss bcuz for the past two hours he was trying to call her on her cell phone and she never answered the call.

"Why in the fucks did you not pick up the phone?" asks Male Boss.

"My phone never rang, what's your problem?" she counters.

"Well, I am out of my cheese puffs and I wanted the specific kind again."

"The same kind I always get you? You know, the store brand cuz you're so cheap?"

"No, not that's one. The new one. The specific kind. The animal."

"What the hell are you talking about the animal?"

"This one, has the dog on the bag. You just got it for me yesterday."

"Oh my god, you dumbfuck! Those aren't yours!"

"Well how the hell do I know, I am the only one that eats the crap. You want me to buy you another bag for you to eat?"

Female Boss has lost it. She is in the kitchen cracking up at the realization that Male Boss has no clue what he just ate. Eventually she catches her breath.

"You like those more than the old ones?" she asks.

"Well, they are kind of different but its a change, they are not bad.. maybe not as much cheese but still good. I like how they are crunchier too. Like the stale tastes good."

"You fucking idiot," she laughs. "Those are for the dogs!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Those are dog treats you fool! That's why there is a picture of a dog on it! That's why they are shaped like animals and thats why," Female Boss grabs the bag from the trash, walks up to him pointing at the words in bold type and says, "it says DOG TREATS!"

"And how the fuck should I know?"

Hmm.. lemme think.. No clue Male Boss, no clue.

Home Makeover

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

This happened before I started the blog. I just had a flashback to it because a small tree outside just lost a branch in some strong wind we've been having and it hit the window. What does that have to do with anything? Just ask the female version of Christopher Lowell, Female Boss.

Over the Winter, Female Boss wanted to bring the outdoors indoors to have the feel of summer while we were having shitty weather. After one weekend, I came into a completely remodeled Investment Property: curtains strung up to branches, leaves glued to the walls and palm fronds shoved into backs of chairs to give them that peacock look that everyone wants in their furniture.

"What do you think, Northe? Do you like it?"

Always the tactical genius, I respond, "I'll tell you one thing, I haven't seen a classy way to integrate nature and lifestyle ever before."

She is glowing. The sad part is, I still haven't. Smack my bottom purple.

As time goes on, Female Boss adds and takes away from the ambiance. Crunched leaves are part of the flooring decor and the once green palm fronds don't have that eye catching feel they used to. Weeks turn to months. Its not looking any better with time.

Throughout the year Male Boss hosts several parties at the Investment Property. With one on the horizon Female Boss can't wait as she is all too proud of her work. On a side note, The Professional has been making fun of her, to me, under his breath for weeks now. I guess its okay for her to be proud as long as she has no clue what people really think.

Monday night, Female Boss is stringing up lights for the big party at the Investment Property. She is really looking forward to this one as many people that saw Makeover 1.0 will be coming back to see Makeover 8.0 or however many times she changed the fucked up decor to look even worse.

"I can't wait to hear the compliments tonight. Its all been so fulfilling!" she smiles.

Fantastic.

I leave work a bit early and come in on Tuesday to something quite entertaining. Female Boss is absolutely ballistic. She is screaming at the top of her lungs.. I have never seen her like this. Male Boss, in all his usual magnificence and looking to be affected by a huge hangover, is standing in the middle of the Living Room watching Female Boss ripping leaves off the wall and knocking over chairs. She is screaming non-stop at how big of an asshole he is.

Male Boss is telling her to calm down and to stop yelling while he rubs his temples.

"Fuck you!" she screams. "You've had me make a fool of myself for months and months! You are an inconsiderate asshole and you laugh at my expense!"

"Come on, Female Boss.. its funny.. its not that big of a deals. They don't hate it they just think its weird. You know, like its a difference," says Male Boss.

"Fuck you, I don't want to hear your stupid voice anymore!"

Female Boss hoists herself up and starts hanging off of the curtain rails (read as: branches nailed into the wall) as if she was about to do pull-ups until they break off.. with the drywall. This easily goes on for a good two hours until the entire house is a wreck. Shit is everywhere. It was complete chaos. The only good thing was that it was so dead in the office that morning I could pay close attention to what they were doing rather than pretend to work.

Turns out every single friend of theirs, mutual or separate, The Professional included, would constantly make fun of the way she decorated the house. It was a giant web of secrecy and she had no idea that it was going down behind her back. Everyone was in on it and worst of all, if you're Female Boss anyway, Male Boss revealed it to her in front of the entire party after having a few too many drinks. So not only did her dream come crashing down but she was completely humiliated in front of all her friends. I can tell you they haven't held a party here since that one.

I sure do love a festive occasion.

Interaction With Temp Accountant

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

After a long stint of phone tag between your pal Northe and the Accounting Office, Temp Accountant has come back to the Investment Property to do some work. In order for this to happen, Temp Accountant decided to call us everyday until catching Female Boss at the office. After having left several messages for Female Boss, she never called Temp Accountant back, what a shock.

To refresh your memories from the Introduction of Temp Accountant a couple weeks ago, every now and then Female Boss needs the help of a Temp Accountant to get the office finances in order. Fortunately, I don't have to touch the accounting stuff and it also brings a new head into the office from time to time. New heads in the office means new hilarity, although this isn't an entirely new scenario; however, it still serves up the belly laughs.

So Temp Accountant is back and helping Female Boss out with difficult tasks like: opening envelopes, showing Female Boss where to sign papers and asking if she wants to renew magazine subscriptions. You know, things that you need to shell out cash for to a licensed professional for in order have it taken care of.

So, again with the dogs. Its time for Temp Accountant to head home. As usual she heads over to say goodbye to the dogs and, as always is the case, the biting dog, aka Puppy, starts biting. The best part is that this is at least the fifth time it has happened to poor Temp Accountant. Every fuckin time she comes into the office and every time before she leaves she goes to pet the dogs. Without fail, Puppy always bites. Finally, Temp Accountant goes off.

"I am not petting you anymore!" she says pointing her finger at Puppy.

Female Boss chimes in, "Who? Why?"

"This one," Temp Accountant says firmly. "She keeps biting me."

"No. Nooo. Noooooo. She isn't," says Female Boss in her typical posture of denial.

"Yes, she is. Look at my finger!"

"Nooo. She's fine," continues Female Boss. "She just.. its just that.. she doesn't.. it's like she, well. Its how she shows her love!"

Temp Accountant sucks her teeth and asks, "By biting?"

Female Boss doesn't have a response.

I think we all know who won this round.

Female Boss Shorts 4

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Yet another series of shorts for you all.

Scenario #1: Female Boss picks up the phone and starts dialing.

To the person on the phone, frantically, "There's smoke everywhere! Everywhere! Yes! Smoke!"

Female Boss giggles softly to herself, "And white feathers all over!"

Time passes a bit and she starts repeating, still frantic, "On the chicken!"

"On the chicken!"

"Yes, the house is full of smoke!"

Female Boss can't keep up the charade any longer and starts laughing. Apparently, the other person on the line got the joke as much as I did so Female Boss has to explain it, "Yes, remember last night? You told me to cook chicken. Right, well I forgot to pluck the feathers. Get it?"

Would murder in this case be considered self-defense?

Scenario #2: Female Boss is in a good mood. Whenever she is in a good mood I have to focus her energy elsewhere or I inherit the abortion of humor that is to follow. Like everyone else, when you're happy you want to share the happiness. Some people use jokes.. then there's some people who shouldn't.

Female Boss does her best. She tells me, "They said its gonna rain today, check the weather online."

I'm thinking to myself, I coulda swore they said it was gonna be 80 degrees today.

Female Boss watches me open up the browser to check the weather. Yeah, its gonna be 80 degrees. She bursts out in laughter. I guess that's the joke?

Scenario #3: I think Female Boss stayed the night at the Investment Property. I can deduce this by two things. One, there is a shredded magazine in the living room that trails out to the dining room. Two, The One is yelping at the top of his lungs for Female Boss who is apparently in the bedroom.

I am about 15 minutes early to work, so I grab a chair and just watch The One. He's running back and forth across the house in a complete frenzy. All of a sudden, on the tile floors he starts almost limping.. it looks very peculiar. I think The One might have hurt himself.. I don't go to help him. Instead I just watch and thank god I didn't move in on him to see what was wrong. Before I know it a yellow, mustard water slurry of shit comes streaming out of The One's ass.

I vacate to the sanctuary of the office clear from smelling distance. Female Boss picks my exiting as a prime time for her entrance from the bedroom. I would say this wasn't what she expected to walk out to.

"What in the hell!" exclaims Female Boss.

Welcome home.

Frankie: A Living Spirit

You gotta read the last handful of Friday posts to be up to speed on this series of tales on fisticuffs if you haven't yet. Week 1, Week 2, Week 3 and Week 4.

Some of the basic or essential qualities that one learns when involved in martial arts, if instructed properly, are: honesty, loyalty, integrity and being an upstanding citizen of the community. Without these, a few of the important tenets of any human being, especially martial artist, the power that one can wield through training and conditioning can be used for unsavory deeds. Often times you will see the group or individual oddball kid that knows martial arts and is a complete idiot. He thinks he's king shit and makes sure that everyone knows it. On a far worse and globally dominate scale underground kingpin factions like the Cobra Kai develop.. and well if Pat Morita dies anytime soon we're all fucked.

I won't get bogged down on the catastrophes that await the world for that day, instead I will stick to the original idea of the post. Sensei Clause did his best to instill these character traits into his students. All in all I think he did very well. The dojo I trained at was probably the only one that I have ever seen that lacked the one asshole guy that no one liked but happened to be good at martial arts. That could very possibly have been me tho, who knows.

One of the teaching tools he implemented regularly into his routine was mentioning his former sensei Frankie. Well not so much, I think HMT and I made up dozens of scenarios where Frankie injected himself into his teachings and made for hilarious consequences. You see, regardless of how a teacher is in their real life, one does not have to take the path of that person. If, for example, your father was brilliant at teaching you life lessons, morals, courage and principles and you come to find out at a later age that he enjoys a ladel of fetus soup from time to time doesn't mean that you have to a) discount the foundation of your character or b) follow in his footsteps. Every individual knows how to discern right from wrong and justifying odious behavior by pointing at odious behavior by someone like a father does not make it any less wrong than in the first place.

This is key when coming off of training with Sensei Clause. Because as oak-like as he wanted to come off as, he surely wasn't. He spoke of revelation in his life, change from gang member to good samaritan. On the surface, this is true but before the end it would be proven wrong time and time again as we have already touched on. This particular story is probably one of the most disturbing and all around memorable experiences HMT and I had with Sensei Clause.

On weekends, as bonus material offered to either gifted students or the entire student body, Sensei Clause would hold specialty classes. These specialty classes would range from animal styles, forms or new weapons. The best part of the class is that we were taught actual Shaolin forms that were not part of the regular class curriculum, it was additional knowledge. The other good thing is that it was traditional on top of all that. It costs $40 but its worth it when Clause's shit is together.

Depending on difficulty, certain students would be included or excluded from the classes. However, lately, Clause had been letting far too many unskilled people into the classes and the classes were downright boring. There was nothing really gained from them aside from a couple new strikes and what not but the application was average at best. The sense of knowledge gained from the specialty classes had become marginal. The better students were pretty pissed at this turn of events.

The last ever specialty class I attended and I hope HMT as well, was the infamous Bear Form class. Sensei Clause had been talking up the class all week and really getting the students hyped up for it. This was going to be a packed class and he knew it, the pressure was on to really come out with a good class especially since the buzz had been pretty negative on his performance lately.

The Saturday was like every Saturday. HMT and I show up at 8am with Sensei Clause arriving shortly after to start up the kids class, followed by the teens class, then the adult class and finally the specialty class. HMT and I were put in charge of just about every class that day, nothing out of the ordinary for the most part. Until the end of the adult class...

Sensei Clause had been missing for about 30 minutes, completely MIA. HMT goes out back and sees what could possibly be the most ridiculous thing, at the time, involving Clause. Sensei Clause doesn't see HMT so he is doing what he has been doing all frikkin morning: "practicing" the Bear Form he is going to teach us in the specialty class. Now, I'm sorry but when you know something, especially when you are an instructor, you don't practice shit. You fuckin know it.

The kicker is that he would change shit up, basically find something better to do in the form. In the end, HMT and I would deduce that he made up about 2/3 of the form before class and winged the rest of it. Total bullshit. The guy has no scruples I tells ya.

Now, I am sure that many of you are wondering why the title is about Clause's sensei Frankie. The obvious answer is that when you are "practicing" your form out back away from spying eyes you can always count on your sensei's ghost to "correct" you where you went wrong in the form. Frankie is everywhere, HMT knew it, I knew it and Clause fuckin lived it. So essentially, our good old Sensei Clause was in the business of teaching us bullshit forms for money. Something tells me if Frankie were around Clause would be having to jump over more than just limos.

Next week will be a series of shorts and some background on characters from the dojo. And hopefully more inspired, sorry I had a busy week. Average at best for me, sirs.

Master of Analogy 2

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

With the California Fires in the news, there isn't a hotter topic than this one when it comes to punnery for Female Boss. Over the past few days the fires have been making every cable news channel and every local re-reporting news show. Re-reporting? Yeah its what local news channels do. They don't ask questions, they don't challenge, they don't dig, they don't verify, they don't investigate, they don't even report. They take someone else's work and regurgitate it like an owl. Then idiots, like yourself possibly, listen to it and take it as news and/or fact. Re-reporting, there ya go. The laziest occupation in the esteemed community of careers. Fuck em all.

Off the rant and on with the show of mental prowess by Female Boss. Again, Female Boss is calling friends, talking about the fires.. making a huge hub-bub over the whole ordeal when literally I think two structures were destroyed and one happened to be a detached garage. Clearly, covering fires raging in uninhabited parts of California is riveting. "Red Flag Warnings" and "Fire Watch 2005." What a bunch of asshats.

Sorry, sorry. Female Boss is going nuts on these phone calls. Being that she is an empath, she coughs and complains that she smells smoke and can't breathe too well. We have a few problems with this from the start:

1) The fires are far away.
2) You can't smell any smoke.
3) There isn't even ash falling in the area.

So yeah, there you have it. She's in complete duress and making sure to dump her feelings on everyone willing to be dragged down with her. I guess pity loves company yet a single brain cell cannibalizes all others until it is king.

Now that you see the irrelevance of her behavior lets get to the analogy. Like the last Master of Analogy post, we are busy. Except this time, Female Boss is so overrun with emotion and stress she isn't helping. I could be mistaken but I don't recall "paralysis" as being a habit of Highly Effective People. For about 20 minutes the phone is non-stop ringing, multiple lines. I am picking up one, putting another on hold, speaking to Female Boss over my shoulder who is on the line and wishing to speak with her.

Female Boss is in a panic. I know this bcuz when she is, her face turns white and her eyes bulge like Smeagol. That photo is about right except her wang is longer. Every time its for her she tells me to take down their number and she'll call them back. Every single one. In the end, not one phone call is taken by her. I would have to put the number of phone calls close to a dozen and a half in about 20 min. Not very fun.

So when the storm dies down, this idiot blesses me with this one:

"Goodness. I can't believe how busy it just was on the phones! It feels like I'm putting out a fire every minute in here!"

I call shenanigans! This asshole didn't lift a fuckin finger and she's talking like she was helping. Can this even qualify as an analogy? Isn't this more like a bombastic lie wrought from the failed mind of a lazy whore!? Angry Time says, "Yes."

Have a good one fellas.

Lost In Translation

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

In my business, we deal with a lot of foreigners. Companies that shell out the big bucks for seminars from overseas lecturers and/or business moguls use us to show these people around town or show them fun, happening places to go or relax. A lot of the time I deal with people that aren't the best english speakers let alone have a grasp on the language to the degree of using correct sentence structure. If you never look at someone's faults as something to laugh at, you take life too seriously.

Honestly, in what other country in the world can you not read, write or speak the language anywhere in the sphere of "properly" and still make upwards of 6-digit salaries than in the States? I have received so many faxes with people using made up words to try to communicate what they want.

A couple recent ones:

Egen = Agent
Re pourd = Report
Trabil = Travel

Male Boss is no better and I realize this but that's never stopped me from declaring idiocy when I see it. Now, as heart-stopping as it may be, this tale does not revolve around Male Boss nor some immigrant worker trying to make accommodations for his compatriot. It involves Female Boss.

Female Boss is on the phone taking down some specifics for a company we deal with that originates in Chile. They fly out a few clients a year that do their thing and go back home. The people at the office don't have difficult accents by any means, I would actually say that the lion's share of our foreign clients can't compete with these fellas when it comes to speaking english clearly.

I catch the conversation toward its end, "Oh, so you are a new hire? How do you like it there? Great, great. Well yes, we look forward to helping you as well. We have worked with your company for years so it will be a great experience and opportunity for you. Uh huh, sure. And what's your name?"

Here we go.

"What?" asks Female Boss.

"Tegusto One? Is that some sort of nickname, I have never heard of anything like that? Who? That doesn't make any sense, how do you figure that has to do with religion? Ohhh! I thought you said your name was Tegusto One!"

Female Boss is cracking up. Turns out the guys name was Jesus (Haysus). Female Boss hears the name "Tegusto One." What in the fuckin hell!? I suppose the better question would be, how can one with such lack of mental ability run a million dollar a year company? How!?

'Atta Boy, Pigfoot!

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

As of late, Pigfoot has been pretty tired. Most of the days are being passed with excessive naps and inactivity. This blows bcuz it cuts down on potential havoc wreaking and, more importantly, storytime. Nevertheless, we have a new one!

Pigfoot started off the day with his typical hibernation for five hours or so. When he awakes he is vocal and spunky. He is barking and barking to get someone's attention to come let him out of the area they are confined to. I go over and pet him for a few minutes. This satisfies him for only a short while and Pigfoot starts up with the barking again.

Its a 50/50 shot for Female Boss to hear and react to this behavior by Pigfoot. Seems like Pigfoot is on his A Game today, she takes the bait. Female Boss unleashes Pigfoot from his confines and goes forth to usurp the domain. Everything starts out well and good, Pigfoot frolics and plays. I play with him for a short time and return to my work.

Female Boss and I keep to ourselves for what turns out to be too long. After an unknown amount of time, maybe 30-45 min or so, Female Boss gets up from her desk. This first thing that comes out of her mouth is a gasp. I ask her what happened.

"Oh fuck, you did it this time, Pigfoot," she says. Not in a scolding tone, mind you. Never.. I mean, come on..

Pigfoot seems to have a built-in radar, like most pets, as to what would be the worst possible thing to destroy in the house. This time, Pigfoot decided to lay waste to something that didn't belong to Female Boss or Male Boss. I guess, over the weekend, one of their mutual friends came by with their baby/toddler and left some sort of upholstered, stuffed, plush chair. Kind of hard to explain. Doesn't quite look like this, was smaller, had funny bears and balloons on it, but you get the gist.

Pigfoot didn't just take a bite out of it. If this was CSI you would describe it as an abdominal gutting with gaping lacerations across the back. Entrails were strewn about the dining room and trailed off where an entire arm lay in the kitchen. Most of the flesh was torn, if not, missing. If you don't respect the mastery in Pigfoot's work, now would be a good time to start. The most sinister of it all is that it was done in silence. I don't recall hearing a sound, nor does Female Boss. In most circles this would be considered part of the intimidation factor Pigfoot brings to the table. I would tend to agree.

Seems to me Pigfoot is going to set back Female Boss upwards of $50-100 for this episode. Just to reiterate, no punishment, no discipline. As long as this keeps up, Pigfoot will strike again without remorse. Whether or not he will execute this flawlessly again is up to him. Personally, I love it when a plan comes together.

Just Punishment

You gotta read the last 3 Friday's posts to be up to speed on this series of tales on fisticuffs if you haven't yet. Week 1, Week 2 and Week 3.

A sign of a good sensei is someone that is not just a good martial artist nor merely someone that can teach well. The mark of excellence comes with inspiration and instilling into your students the drive to actually want to pass their potential as a martial artist. Sensei Clause used the word "can't" as one of the cornerstones of his teaching style. The word "can't" was to never be used. The word was to be replaced with "not able to" meaning that at this time you are not able to, but when your ability has improved, you will be able to then.

On the surface, sure its corny and sure its also meaningless; however, belief in or taking on a certain frame of mind is everything in martial arts. As physical as martial arts is, it is triple that in mental. Without turning this into a martial arts post, let me tell you a little story about using words that aren't liked by Sensei Clause.

If kids used the word "can't" they would start off with say, 10 pushups and double every time after. For the teens you'd start off with 20 or so depending on the strength level. As for us adults, he'd be easy on some and hellbent on others such as HMT and myself. I remember, about 6 months into my training with Sensei Clause, I slipped up and said "can't." Fuck was I done. My punishment was 1,000 bare knuckle strikes, of my choosing, to the heavy bag before class started. If you've ever heard of the term "peppered" you know what I mean. If you don't, basically the more times you strike something with your knuckles the more capillaries you begin to burst. The resulting effect is a myriad of red spots on your knuckles from repetition. Hence the adjective, "peppered." Let me tell you, I never said the word "can't" again. It was a damn good motivator.

So one day, during a teen class HMT and I are assisting on, there was this one kid named Tsoi (Choy). A joke of a kid, was maybe 14 but looked like he was 10 and punched like he was 8. Real quick, this was near the end of my days with Sensei Clause, he was far gone mentally at this point, this was just another brick in the burial wall. So, Sensei Clause has the teens sweating balls, really giving them a tough workout. He tells them to do something outrageous for an extended period of time and retreats to his office. All the teens are making under their breath comments of being tired. The bad news is there's a good 25-30 min left in class.

All of a sudden Tsoi blurts out, "I'm gonna die."

Sensei Clause charges out of his office like an enraged hippo. His face is beat red, "Who said that!?"

Tsoi's fucked. Why? Really, HMT and I had no clue. At that point, it was safe to say he was tho. Off the bat, Clause reduces young Tsoi to tears. After stripping the sad sack of any manhood, Clause makes him bust his ass with pushups and shit at insane levels of speed and stamina. The kid is cooked, Sensei Clause doesn't care.

As final recourse for the action, Sensei Clause made the entire class run, not walk, not drive, but run down to the local cemetery in their gi (full uniform). Their assignment once they arrived at the cemetery was to reflect on life. On everything. To think about life and how precious it is. They were to stay at the cemetery for at least a couple of hours. Hours!

Sensei Clause begins to explain his irrational actions to the class. He would get so mad because growing up, he "saw death everywhere." This was obviously due to his gang related past and the fact that he probably caused most of the deaths he is talking about by making drug dealers overdose on their own product after he pummeled them silly. Frankie (Clause's sensei growing up and whom of which we will cover next week) always told him "cherish every second of life." With the passing of Frankie these words not only rang true but became a frame of mind for Sensei Clause.. but there was something more sinister at work here. What these words evolved into was a means by which to punish others for silly statements regardless of the fact that they are kids.

It was pretty maddening to watch. I'm all for setting a positive example and even setting a harsh example. Sure, it was a bit over the top but the bottom line is that the lesson was learned and Tsoi was a better person for it. Not really but that's not important, right? What is important is next Friday's post. Frankie: A Living Spirit. An exploration on how a story like this flies in the face of everything Sensei Clause stands for.

Not Amused, Not Interested

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Another Female Boss story. Sorry guys, but when she's hot she's hot. Hopefully Male Boss can work himself into some more here soon.

Female Boss in a good mood again, regular Angry Timers should know this means mischief is abounds. She goes for the phone bcuz sharing anything with me and being hit with my lack of response, acknowledgment and emotion just rub her the wrong way. I could really give a shit and she knows it. Gone are the days of testing wit on me, my loss..

"I'm gonna call Client," says Female Boss.

By the way, I guess that above statement regarding my demeanor towards her is applicable in other scenarios as well. I don't react, respond or acknowledge her words.. just about ever.

"Hey Client, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a chuck.. no wait. Let me try again. How much wood would a woodchuck, wait. Shoot, I keep losing it, I can do this." Female Boss starts laughing while trying to say the stupid shit.

I cannot believe she is wasting this poor person's time. I mean, here you are at work and you know Client has to be busy.. and Client's precious time is being sucked away by this moron. Think about it tho, when else does someone call you to waste your time? Its usually when you have a pile of work on your desk, when you have lines holding or when you have someone spouting business nonsense to you while you are checking your in-mail. Enter this phone call, some jackass calls you to annoy you with irrelevance and something that lost its comic luster decades ago.. the good news is the fuse was already lit prior to Female Boss' call and Client explodes.

There's a pretty long pause, Female Boss' mouth is gaping open. She tries to make light of the situation, "No, no don't hang up I called for a reason. Shoot, dang it, I can't remember now. I'm sorry."

Female Boss hangs up and then says to the office, "That didn't go over as I planned."

I'll tell you one thing I respect.. I respect a person that stands up to idiocy and Client doesn't take much guff. A+ for cutting to the quick and taking out Female Boss at the knees. Its quicker than aiming for the chin and much of the time more effective. Take that ya biatch.

Master of Analogy

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Tossing in another piece of the jigsaw that is Female Boss for you comes the attribute that she loves a good analogy. In fact, as of late, I would dare to call her the Master of Analogy. How she latches on to a boulder of a concept, uses it sans wit, and pounds the analogy into a fine, fine silt. Repetitiously and without acknowledgment of annoyance and/or irrelevant wonderment that it may cause, Female Boss makes sure you know what exactly is on her mind. Constantly. Over and over.. without tiring.

With the Hurricane Katrina disaster, Female Boss spent a good majority of her time repeating/asking the same questions to just about anyone she gets on the phone with. Making sure people are aware of the disaster, as if its possible to not know. Then starts going through the whole tragic play by play of it all aloud.. which really isn't a big deal, especially with something so serious, but it does get old when you hear it all day long. This is the first step towards stirring her brain cells into a fevered pitch to impress the most insipid people that walk the earth.. them and only them.

As a matter of fact, about a week and change ago we are getting a lot of phone calls and business is taking a welcomed run into the busy category. I thrive in high-pressure, dead-line oriented environments that this business offers. I love it, set em up, knock em down is my attitude. Female Boss.. not so much. When two lines are ringing in the office she falls into berserk mode. Usually the eyes bulge, the sucking on teeth crack the seconds of silence between each phone ring and her stress overwhelms the office. She is even worse when Male Boss is around. So here I sit, within the chaos, the eye of the storm. This day it was pretty bad. Eventually, it came to the point where there were two lines holding for her.

Female Boss lets out a large sigh and tells me, "I feel like I am waiting for the water. Like I can feel the water coming over the levees in New Orleans."

Ask yourself in all seriousness, what do you say to a person that has just told you that.. likening incoming phone calls to a natural disaster? My response, "Line 5 and 8 are holding for you." I think I handled it well.

Female Boss Mutterings 2

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

The last week or two has yielded the following noteworthy mutterings:

"Now I know how to change a light bulb." - Learning this at such a young age!

"Okay, what the hell am I doing?" - Tell me when you figure it out.

"I can be neighborly." - Oh.

"I need more red in my life." - Don't we all?

My favorite series of recent mutterings:

"Going to the Emmy's would be fun."

Followed 30 seconds later by:

"I don't think I would go."

Then:

"I don't think they would be fun." - Aren't there institutions for people like this?

"God I need some vitamins I'm feeling sluggish."

Followed up by:

"I think I'm gonna eat some salsa." - Vitamin rich!

I purchased a legal ledger that has proven to be quite the companion since starting this blog. Best and most inconspicuous investment ever.

Introducing Temp Accountant

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Not the funniest story but makes the mind boggle at how, in this country, people can be successful while in other countries the same people would have died from hunger years ago.

Female Boss decided to hire a Temp Accountant from the main accounting office we deal with. She's come in for a couple months now, once or twice a week tops, doing some basic crap. Anyway, two weeks ago on Monday she was supposed to come in. Temp Accountant had some schedule conflicts and told me she wouldn't be able to make it in. Furthermore, she asked me to have Female Boss call her to let her know when would be most convenient to come back into the office to do some more work. I leave Female Boss a detailed message on a message slip AND discuss this with her. Female Boss offers her usual doom and gloom moaning with no action to follow. No phone call to Temp Accountant, nothing.

Last Thursday, Female Boss is having her standard break down about bills stacking up here in the office. Why? Cuz obviously its far too difficult to handle and you need to hire a professional to write checks for you. Yes, this is how it is here. Female Boss hates writing checks and pretty much refuses to do it. In her sorrow, Female Boss puts her head in her hands and lets out a big sigh.

"I guess Temp Accountant is never coming back," she whines.

I then ask, "Oh did you call her back?"

Now you have to have a grasp on the way Female Boss speaks when you ask her questions for the sole purpose of making perfectly clear that she is handling the situation like an idiot. Which was the intent of my question, otherwise I would have nothing to say to her, savvy? She usually gives a healthy suck on her teeth followed by, not just any "No," but the type of "No" that has the exact same condescending undertones that my own question dishes up.

So needless to say there's the answer. Putting my best foot forward, I focus my eyes on my brain stem and refrain from any violence I would like to inflict upon the world. Shockingly.. no not really.. Female Boss still doesn't call to find out what's going on with Temp Accountant.

Now this morning, Female Boss starts bitching again about the bills. I open up Angry Time to write instead of participating in another riveting discourse like last time. So here we sit, about one hour after Female Boss bitched about the bills, stewing in the same bunker busting lunacy as last week. What's Female Boss doing, you ask? She is on the phone chatting it up with her friends and family about the gossip while the bills pile up and I'm pretty sure Temp Accountant believes she no longer has a job here.

My guess is that Temp Accountant will give us a call in the next week or so to see if there is anything she can do for us, long before Female Boss employs a brain cell to call her office and ask when Temp Accountant can come in. Mark my words.

Dojo Nonsense

You gotta read the last 2 Friday's posts to be up to speed on this series of tales on fisticuffs if you haven't yet. Week 1 and Week 2.

I think I've successfully established the fact that Sensei Clause is mentally chaotic, and if I haven't, then this one might add to the foundation.

You know that HMT and I were assistant instructors at our dojo. Probably the best experience we had as assistant instructors, aside from the fact that we got to teach darling young kids like Sammy, was practical hands on knowledge. Whats that? Yeah, Sammy, the kid that would announce, "I have two moms," out of the blue. The kid couldn't throw a straight punch to save his moms from a gay bashing, but we took his money anyway and tried to make him a better person. Chances are, young Sammy lives in Hillcrest and sits on knobby, scepter-shaped objects to pass the time.

Sorry, but as you know, I do enjoy a good off-story. Alright, so HMT and I are working our way up the corporate ladder, had honest aspirations of one day opening our own dojo and enabling a ninja army to take out hippies on the weekend. We did what we were told and ran a tight ship. We were probably the best asset Clause had ever had in the dojo bcuz we cared and we were dedicated. All the praise and honorable mentions I can bring to the table regarding our service still didn't make Clause hesitate when it came to screwing his best and favorite students over in a heartbeat.

There came times when Clause would tell HMT and I to open the dojo and teach some morning classes or evening classes. No problemo, we had our own keys.. it was our pleasure. Then came the day when we were told to do this, came the next day, did it again, and again and again. Days went by, Clause was MIA. We were in session for college, we didn't have all the time in the world to keep the dojo open let alone run a business. HMT would be there damn near all day and I would come in to back him up during the evenings when I was out of class and stay till close.

It started getting very awkward with parents of the teens and kids bcuz being superstar juggernauts, as HMT and I are, we are not certified instructors and they don't pay the big bucks to have us teach their kids. This became a big problem as we had no fucking clue what to tell these people anymore. I think we just lied and said he had a death in the family or some shit.. but after a week or so, this lie became bullshit and the parents knew it. This was probably the first real mark sullying my opinion regarding Clause as a professional figurehead.

So after a good 8-9 days, give or take, Clause finally returns. He gives a call into HMT at the dojo the afternoon he came back. Clause makes a big deal of it and can't thank us enough for covering his ass while he was gone.. he better had. Clause also promises "gifts" to HMT and myself for being such outstanding individuals. Dollar signs abounds! I wasn't able to make it there that night to welcome him home and to receive my compensation, to my dismay.

End Result and why this story is worthy of Angry Time:

Clause strolls into the dojo after hours as HMT is closing up. Clause thanks HMT and tells him that he has an awesome gift for him. HMT has no clue. Clause starts talking golf. HMT likes golf and about that time in his life was just a budding player. HMT is thinking, "Holy shit golf clubs!" It wasn't golf clubs. Clause starts to talk about a new driver that he bought while he was "away".. HMT is now thinking, "Holy shit! He bought two and is going to give me a new driver!" It wasn't a new driver.

No Angry Timers. Instead, Clause had purchased himself a new driver and gave HMT his old, tired, used, beat up driver from the turn of the 20th century. So basically, you fine young man, took care of my business, prevented parents from rioting and in turn I will give you my used driver which has a street value of $50. HMT was livid, as you can imagine, but what do you do when you are pissed off at a guy that can plunge his pinky through your entire leg. That's right.. you thank him.

HMT then questions Clause, "Where the hell have you been? Is everything okay?"

Clause's response makes last week's tale look not only feasible but commonplace. It went a little something like this:

"I went to Vegas to enter an Underground Martial Arts Tournament. Full-contact, no holds barred. It took all week. The crazy shit? I won."

Wow, that's awesome, thought HMT, but he thought this all too soon.

Clause continued, "The grand prize was $1,000,000. The rest of the weekend I went nuts. I spent all the money on myself in Vegas that weekend."

Right.. of course he did.. and apparently thought it fit to come home with a commemorative souvenir in Golf Club Driver form. So, Clause is trying to pass off that he spent $1 Mil in a few days after winning a frikkin Kumite.. oh and by the way, he didn't have a scratch on him nor did he show any signs of combat on his body. How's that for credibility?

Un-Professional

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

I'm getting ready to go home, 20 minutes left in the work day and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. All of a sudden, The Professional storms into the office hopping mad. His bow tie is undone on his tux and his top two buttons are undone on his shirt. His coat is disheveled and the look on his face is of fury incarnate.

"This stupid mother fucker!" he says slamming some files down on the desk.

Rewind, let's start at the beginning of the day. The Professional comes in looking sharp, as usual. He's supposedly got some super hot client meet today.

"Let me explain to you, Northe. Today is going to be a great day. Let me tell you, this lady is one piece of ass. Nice, round ass, tan skin, healthy, big tits," The Professional stops short to make a kissie face while thinking of this woman.

"I can't wait to hear the end result," I say to him.

"You know how it will end," he makes a fist by his mouth and moves it back and forth pressing his tongue against his cheek in rhythm.

So now imagine my dismay when The Professional comes back to the office with the type of reaction above. I'm wondering what the hell could have happened. Hopefully he didn't get rejected by her or worse yet get into a very bad situation. My mind races.

"What the hell?" I blurt out.

"This fucking asshole. You know what, I need more business cards because I cannot deal with these mother fuckers anymore."

"What happened?"

"You know, I am taking the lady back to her beautiful house. She is very attractive and nice all afternoon. Everything is great, I look sharp and clean. Very neat. We get to the house, I have a glass of wine. Time passes, we talk, nothing big.

The lady wants to show me her garden. So I follow her out to the garden, finding the flowers and everything very relaxing. I still have my glass of wine. She goes into the house to refresh her glass. I am out in front. Some mother fucker pulls up to the house asking me what the fuck am I doing here.

'Excuse me?' I tell him. I mean what the fuck, who is this guy?

'Who the fuck are you, you are fucking my wife?'

'With respect my friend, I am not here for..'

'I am not your friend, who the fuck are you!?' he says to me.

'Listen, I am here on business, I don't know who you are, please leave me alone.'

And this guy is screaming and yelling and cussing. The lady comes out and tells me to get the fuck out of there. I can't believe it, I look at her not knowing what the hell is happened. She tells me again, 'get the fuck out.'

So I left.

Stupid pussy-whore. Unbelievable. I don't understand what the hell is going on, I can't get in touch with our business contact for this woman and I could be fucked."

I can't stop laughing, The Professional is pretty pissed off. I tell him to relax and make a few phone calls trying to get the Contact on the phone. Turns out this lady and her husband have one of the most screwed up relationships on the planet. Everything is fine, its typical for these people to make crazy scenes and speak down to liaisons. We happen to be this couple's third company and obviously not the last.

"You need to tell Male Boss about this crap, I will not deal with these type of people again. He is lucky I did not strangle him to the ground."

I say he shoulda.

Fork My Eyes, Please.

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

So Female Boss, the spreader of useful information has been calling her friends and family ever since she came into the office, late, from her hair appointment. One after another, I get to hear this sage advice. That's right, I get to hear the same thing numerous times and every time I hear it I am going over in my head exactly how to tie a noose and fasten it securely to the ceiling above to end it all.

Female Boss, to some random idiot she feels like vomiting to, "You know what I do to get people's attention now?"

I assume the other side of the phone is dead cuz 9 times out of 10 she repeats herself or waits about 15 secs before celebrating the news.

"I say, 'mom, mom, mom, mom where are you?'"

Yes. I am not lying. This time I wish I was. Female Boss is a fucking lunatic. I would venture to guess that most people she says this to on the phone are probably awe struck by her stupidity and don't respond. To counter this deafening silence she has struck back in anger in every single one of these conversations.

"It really, really works! Especially if the person is a mom!"

Well holy crap, call MENSA! Then, as a kicker, she made some friend of hers put her 17 year old daughter on the phone and told her she was about to imitate her (her being the daughter).

Now I have no clue where this came from but she starts, "Mom, mom, mom, where are you? Have you left yet? Its cold outside mom, let me in the house. Mom, mom."

After the second "mom," she starts cracking up laughing like she's queen of the Apollo. This conversation then ends with her telling the mother, "I guess that wasn't a good impression. Oh wait, remember to say 'mom.' Bye." And hangs up the phone.

I mean, seriously, what the fuck is she doing? Dragging a friend's kid into it as well? Does she have any sense!? You know what.. I may not be the most likable, best looking guy or by any means the smartest.. but for God's sake what the fuck is going on here? The sad thing is how frequent and typical it all is. Day in and day out, same nonsensical shit. If I wasn't focusing on mental images of crashing in people's heads with a cudgel I would be typing more of these insane stories but I do my best to get lost in the dank dungeon of my mind to avoid this scourge of retardation that may very well infect me some day. These posts are a log to prove that at one point I was sane if I ever become like her.

"It'll be fine."

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

I haven't really touched on my rise to power in the office place. Essentially, when I was hired, there were a number of individuals doing what I did for a living. Red flag right away. Why? Come now, I don't take kindly to equals and/or lessers that are of inferior intellect, work ethic or my Brahman standing in life.. especially when they don't write my checks or pay my bills. In the end, I cannibalized my entire office and took on the workload of quite a few other people in the hope that I would make it up in salary. Sure, I make a decent salary now, but I am definitely cheaper for the company than paying each single person. The upside for me is that I am the only employee, win-win in my opinion. Don't fuck with Northe is the underlying message. Let's explore.

About a year ago, when we became super busy for a short period of time. Male Boss wanted to hire me an assistant. I was pretty insulted but at the same time wasn't enjoying the 50+ hour work weeks either. The overtime was cool but feeling like I lived at work took a toll on me. The add goes into the local papers and we get some resumes faxed over. Most are just hilarious, I mean really, instead of work experience they would list their grandparents as contacts. Crazy shit like that, definitely fun reading, had I this blog back then I would have scanned and posted em.

Then along comes Phlebotomist. Turns out, they hired this daisy over the weekend. Imagine my surprise when my workplace has a foreign intruder when I come in on Monday. I was definitely pissed bcuz I can read people pretty well and this guy was no Nic Cage. At best he was this guy. Now don't get me wrong, Jackson was great in Bloodsport but lets face facts here, when you lose in the Kumite you're just another terd in the bowl.

First off, I don't like working with other people, if you haven't noticed I am not what you would call a "people person".. shocking I know. Second, I cannibalized my former co-workers bcuz I want to maximize my earning potential. Third, on the first day, during lunch break, he starts confessing personal problems to me. Lastly, I handle shit the way I want it to be handled and there is little room for questions from asshats like this joker.

Phlebotomist is not only very unreliable but he has a wife that would make anyone want to lay siege to the institution of marriage with feces-hurling onagers. This being one of his biggest personal problems he has decided to share with me, one of them. Bitch, a term I only use when absolutely appropriate, calls him non-stop on his cell phone and during the most inopportune times. After the third day of being on the job and literally the 6th call of the day from his wife, as he is in a verbal fisticuffs with her, Female Boss grabs his attention and says, "We aren't paying you to appease your wife."

At that point, I realized this guy needed a friend. I hope he ended up finding one cuz it sure as fuck wasn't gonna be me. I would imagine he has by now, its been a good year or so since then. I start picking Phlebotomist's brain more and more trying to find out what puts the puss in the wound. He let's me in on the whole Phlebotomist dream. How this is his in between job before he hits the bigtime and sticks needles into people for a living. Being an official enabler, I encourage him to work towards that dream.

Two weeks into his employment he let's me know that he found a potential lead over in Texas. He would be on a military base and it was a great gateway program to what he wanted to get into. Sounds good to me. Pack your bags, sir. Though, it wasn't going to be this easy:

a) His wife doesn't want to move states, they just moved here.
b) The job requires several face to face interviews to get the job.
c) He shares a car with his mother-in-law.
d) He has no references for this line of work.
e) He makes Gary Shandling's nervous mug look stoic.

He lays down these problems to me, similar to how I have done for you here. I tell him that these are minor setbacks worthy of being challenged.

"You're not gonna sit there and feel sorry for yourself and duck from a challenge are you? What are you French?"

Phlebotomist doesn't like my sense of humor very much but lends me his ear for solid advice time and time again as we'll explore here shortly. The weekend was coming up fast and he needs to get to Texas but if he is to drive, he would have to leave Friday morning to make it there in a timely manner for a Saturday morning interview.

"Take Friday off man, tell them you have some family obligation or the like. Male Boss is a cool guy, he'll have no problem with it," I tell him.

"I don't know, Northe. I just started working here and don't want to jeopardize my job. My wife hates that I can't keep a steady job."

"You're not gonna lose your job, captain. Go talk to Male Boss and relieve the stress."

Phlebotomist goes to talk to Male Boss. I kinda chuckle to myself cuz he is so nervous but Male Boss is cool enough to let shit slide from time to time. Plus, Phlebotomist isn't a bad worker, just an idiot.

Phlebotomist comes back into the office with a smile. He's set to go. Monday, he comes in an hour and a half late. Turns out traffic was worse than he imagined. The good news is he is ready for the second interview. The bad news is that he has to do the same thing he did last weekend this weekend. The stage is set.

I tell the guy that I will back him up on his 2nd Friday-off request in two weeks. He makes the plea to Male Boss.

"I'll stay late on Thursday, come in early on Friday and stay late on Friday to make sure the workload is taken care of, Male Boss. No problem," I tells him.

Male Boss reluctantly agrees to the second request. I can tell this guy's on thin ice. However, truly, I want this guy to do better for himself. He hates life and he isn't gonna find happiness here. Not if I can help it.

Monday comes again, the Phlebotomist is frikkin 3 hours late. No phone call, no nothing. Female Boss scolds him harshly. He might as well be walking on wet rice paper flooring with track spikes on cuz this fool's about to crash and burn.

Lunchtime happens a bit after he gets into the office. He's extremely concerned. He's on the verge of getting the job but they want him to work on Friday to see what he can do.

"My wife doesn't even know I have been going to Texas, she thinks that I have been going to visit my sick grandmother," confesses Phlebotomist.

"Oh you idiot, now what?" I encourage him.

"I think I am going to leave my wife and take this job. The bad part is that I have to take off Wed-Fri of this week in order to make things happen. I am totally screwed."

"Chin up, things couldn't be better! Male Boss is a forgiving soul, just tell him you will work on Sunday."

Just like Patton would do, I send him to the front lines with, "It'll be fine," and a firm pat on the back.

This is what fishermen might call chumming the waters.

Let's get on the same page. Monday afternoon, after coming in 3 hours late, Male Boss is frazzled as usual and Phlebotomist asks to speak with him outside. Why outside, I have no clue. I am staring through the window at this guy's face go white with fear as he begs to take off three more days this week. Before the guy can even throw out a reason as to why he would need to take this time off Male Boss has had it.

"What the hell kind of persons do you think of me? That you can work for when you like to? Why don't I cut your last check and you get the fuck out of my office?"

Poor sap. The guy is frozen, I had to have had a huge open jawed grin on my face. He catches my look through the window in awe. I shake my head and smack a look of sorrow on my face but the smile comes right back to it. I think this all was for the better. My real hope is that Phlebotomist left his wife and found what he is looking for. Maybe he'll find this blog and thank me for having ulterior motives that led him to his success in the blood analysis field. If not.. he becomes just another left in my wake.

Movie Review: A History of Wasting My Fucking Time!

Avoiding all candor and etiquette let me start this post off by saying that I fucking hate, HATE all forms of incompetence, laziness and stupidity when it is revered and praised by others. Its kinda like how I said in the now infamous AYSO post, where I commented "Its like Congress. A buncha self-righteous idiots congratulating one another for coming together for session, early, so they can fund relief for the hurricane." Thats how I am starting to feel about movie critics, you know, the erudite limp wrists that say movies like Terminator 2 were worthy of a half star when every male reading this right now is trying to convince their Health Insurance company to pay for their bones to be encased in fuckin titanium. Yup, this is where I'm at right now.. damn worthy of Angry Time.

Somehow, this terd of a film managed to float itself to the top of the bowl and be fished out by some burglar with enough money that he/she/they saw it fit to urinate on it and set it aflame and after careful, drug-induced consideration, no doubt, they decided shelling out capital to fund A History of Violence would be a service to not just the realm of theater but also society. Turns out they weren't only wrong but they have made it crystal clear that they idiots too. To be brief and polite, this movie goes over as an After School Special meeting painfully with some sort of boring mobster plot that might have been entertaining back in the early 80s. To be lengthy and brutal, continue reading.

Having the opportunity to have seen Serenity, which many of my SciFi friends are saying was worth a glance and hearing that Flight Plan was pretty good you can imagine my dismay choosing this steaming pile over both. I enter the theater with a few of my friends and from the get we are noticing that this film has seemed to attract a large number of geriatrics from the area. This is usually the sign of a bad film when you are going to see a film that has a long sought after word in the title, Violence, that to someone as sophisticated as myself has become synonymous with Entertainment. Chances are these old folks aren't coming to see the blood fly but we stand fast anyway in hopes that maybe some previews will get us going.

My mistake, you fucking movie writers, producers and directors out there are incapable of good movies lately. Batman Begins, Sin City, The Wedding Crashers and on a different level Kung-Fu Hustle and Ong Bak are probably the only movies that I thought were worth a shit this year. The best part is that I enjoyed seeing the ONLY trailer for Beyond the World for the 90th time as well. I can't wait for this fucking movie to come out so.. not cuz I am hyped for it by any means, instead so I don't have to see the trailer ever again. At this point, I'm primed up for some blood letting and pain this movie needs to offer due to complete disappointment in the upcoming movies which feeds my anger further.

Where to begin? Ok how about this. If you feel that the first 30-40 minutes of a movie are important, then you aren't on the same page as this film, its filmmakers or anyone that might have stepped on that set incidentally or not. Its a complete waste of time that could have been summarized with a few lines:

Tom Stall is an Average Joe. He works a coffee shop in a small town. He has a pretty basic family: wife, son and daughter. Mrs. Stall is a house wife. Jack Stall (son) is somewhat of a loser that very likely enjoys playing a tune on the meat flute every now and again. Sarah Stall is another filler daughter character that plays no relevance except that on some off chance one of you idiots watching the film might have a heart string or two plucked by this peach. The Stalls make ends meet and life is steady as she goes. That's it.

Nothing happens in the first 30-40 minutes other than this most disturbing sex initiation scene that involves the most awkward attempt at a 69 that I think the camera man, disregarding what the director may have wanted, thought it best to fade to black before it looked even crazier. I know there is a certain percentage of the population that found it "hot" and I also imagine that if you're one of those idiots chances are you spend a few hours on the weekend talking with your friends about the numerous average pieces of ass on TV that you would fuck. So, needless to say, the pace of the film at this point is so mind numbingly slow that my friends and I are already starting to make up and share our own lines to one another. This is the start of an ongoing trend throughout the flick.

Before I go on, there are four words and two scenes that stands out as good in this movie. The only words you need to remember if you do really decide to seriously burn your cash and support a pathetic attempt at a movie are: Coffee Pot and Throat Stomp. Period. Nothing more than that.

Senseless and drawn out scenes striving for a sign of passion or emotion fall short time and time again. Ed Harris' character is good and so is Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen) but good characters cannot save a terrible storyline. The three of us were so bored that at one point in the movie my friend and I are predicting what would happen next.

An example of this is:

Edie Stall finds out her husband is an ex-mobster. She hugs and kisses him in tears, frightened of the events to come. Northe whispers, "What did the five fingers say to the face? SLAP!" Sure enough, the shove then the slap. Good job writers. I don't get paid to come up with thoughtful ideas let alone scripts to a movie and someone with zero experience in the "industry" has come up with the predictable climax to that scene. You're all pathetic and shouldn't have jobs, you sorry ass writers.

Then, at some point during their smoke-filled, board room discussions, the script writers pooled their creative juices and decided to turn this token predictability into a surging, out of no where, sex scene. From complete hatred to a staircase sex scene? Are you guys serious? Are the masses of people on this planet this miserable that they find the scene not only credible but also groundbreaking? Nothing makes sense and why should it, its the silverscreen after all. Idiots.

I can't even capture how scene after scene induced my fingers to drum constantly on my armrest in total frustration. Summing things up, the whole Stall family is torn apart by mobster harassment, their son being a bitch and the husband and wife's inability to cope with some off the cuff murders that take place on their front lawn. I mean come on, deal with it and go back to the diner and serve some coffee.

My favorite line during the whole movie came out of my friend's mouth when he turned to me and said, "Is this a joke?"

It certainly seemed like it. Let's give you an example of what the writer's probably thought was a "twist" in the film.. the husband's name not being what he goes by! Dun dun duuuun! Believe me I was shocked that these idiots came up with Tom Stall's name as being Joey Kusack. I would have figured the stupid fucks to have chosen a more mobster-stereotypical name like Joey Pasta.

Toward the end, Tom goes back to his roots in Philly where his early mob days took place. His brother wants to kill him, instead Tom kills everyone else. I think the most irritating part of this whole segment of the movie is how his brother calls Tom "brohim".. damn it, I get angry just thinking about it cuz I know the writers thought it would be so bad ass if we did that! So, Tom's brother lives in some sick ass mobster-mansion where apparently excessive gunshots on the property are all part of the midnight ambiance for the high scale neighborhood the house is located in and causes no alarm, whatsoever. We know this bcuz Tom stays the night at the house! At the fucking murder house! Overnight! Then, making things even more absurd, in the morning Tom is still blood-soaked like it happened 5 minutes ago. Instead of using the jacuzzi tub in the master suite, Tom decides to go out to the freezing lake on his hands and knees to wash off. Great imagery, wrong film, you stupid fucks.

Now for finale, Tom comes back home to his family eating dinner. No one says a word, Tom comes in and sits down, no one says a word. Either they are choking down whatever filth his wife has made the family for dinner or they are all pissed off or scared as to where Tom has been all night. To break the mood, the human cupcake of a daughter decides to grab his place setting and set it in front of him.. awwww my tender heart. Tom's son sets the meatloaf platter down beside his dad.. wow this is riveting! The wife gives off an amicable look as if everything is going to be all right. You know the one, the tight-lipped smile and tilted head that only works as being adorable if you're over 80.

At this point, I shit you not, the theater starts to buzz. Loudly. The screen fades to black. Everyone in unison is wondering aloud, "Thats it?" About 7-10 seconds of a black screen take place. The credits start to roll. Echoing my sentiments exactly, two hundred people groan simultaneously and the worst film I have seen in a good 2 to 3 years is finally over.

You want to challenge me on my evaluation of this flick? Step up to the fuckin plate. It fucking sucked on every level. Two scenes, four words.. prove otherwise. I have never seen such a great idea for a film turn out to be such a piece of crap. Yes, on paper, I can see how these actors/actresses said lets do this. Yet at the same time, I know in my heart of hearts that once production started they wanted to slit their wrists. There is no way they could be pleased with the outcome of this.

What kills me are these apologist, good ol' boy critics that have the nerve to praise this film. Impressionable magazines like Maxim tried to appeal to its readers by saying that there is a good sex scene and good action in the flick! This is an outright lie. The only thing that could possibly make sense is that whoever it was that made this film has a lot of friends and they wanted to see them do well. Thats it. It must be. Let's rally behind our boy and write good reviews.

Lets recap who might like this film:

People that hate entertainment.
People that hate spending their time productively.
People searching for the worst movies of all time.
People looking for an excuse to go to the local theater.
People who wouldn't be caught dead with Penn tennis balls on their walkers.
People that think spending $9-15 on a marginal movie is minor in comparison to supporting Hollywood's latest shit pile.

If you are one of these people, by all means go. If not, stay home, stack your chips and wait for something else. Seeing films like this make me want to kill people or do their job with competence. Both of which are likely in my future.