Vegas '06

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

I am not gonna get into reasons to go to Vegas nor even, really, what all went down while I was there with myself and about 30 of my closest friends. What I am gonna do is stick to the tradition of this here blog and point out the fun times Vegas offers when you go with some great people and have a different perspective on people in general.

I arrive in Vegas on Thursday. I decide that since I don't have as much money to gamble with as I usually do its in my best interest to take it easy for the evening and avoid playing at the tables. I go ahead and meet up with about 20 individuals that have landed the same evening.. I head up to the local eatery where they're all at, order myself a yard long margarita in preparation to see if I can't get a "first down" before the end of the night. Much to my chagrin, the alcohol did nothing for me with my first $25 drink so I wasn't going to continue. Without a buzz on that much liquid I would have spent more time in the restroom than I could berating vacationing citizens so, like I said, I opted to stop.

Around the time I finish my the dissatisfying beverage the food started coming around the table and I decided a stuffed steak quesadilla would suit me just right. It was definitely tasty. Then comes the typical bullshit of dealing with a lot of friends. You got it.. the bill. Somehow by the end of the meal I had to pay $18 for my quesadilla cuz cheap ass fucks either don't remember what sales tax is or are too cheap to tip or are just trying to get over on us. Either way its horseshit and continued to be part of the ongoing theme in Vegas that weekend.

Bottom line is if you can't do basic arithmetic and actually round up to the nearest dollar or maybe even two dollars, don't fuckin come out or, just make it easy on all of us, ask for your own bill. It gets tired having to babysit and throw down extra money during every group meal. Its an extra dollar or two! Big fuckin deal. The kicker is its the same type of jackfucks that'll shortchange on the fuckin meals and shit but go down and drop a few hundred bucks into a slot machine or on a table game.. but an extra couple bucks to pay off a restaurant bill, "Fuck that! No way!" Jackasses.

Ok, here's the deal on this shit, I have a story for each of the days in Vegas. Considering that I was only there for a handful of hours that Thursday, that's all you get. I'll post about each day, only the worthy Angry Time shit, until Sunday the day of departure. Come back tomorrow for more.

Offspring

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

There was probably a time when I thought that this scourge of stupidity that plagues my office environment was somewhat contained.. that the concentration of idiocy was at its greatest possible height within this place. I thought that this was the hive, the mother brain of the infection. Sure, I know there are plenty of idiots around the world, you see them plastered all over our newspapers, magazines and on TV all the time. Tho when I came to work, I really thought I had tapped into the source. In due time, with an analytical mind and a critical eye, I proved myself wrong. Perhaps it was more of a safety mechanism. It would make me feel better to pretend that I was working for business professionals that lack the ability to load paper into printers properly or consistently remember how "Cut and Paste" works and that was the worst humanity could offer in the range of straight dumb people. Alas, I was wrong. There are many equal and greater examples out there. The truth of the matter is that we, Angry Timers, are the few "normal" people. Unfortunately, by design, being normal we have cornered ourselves into really being a minority of two-percenters. Chin up, everyone.. chin up..

I get a phone call.

"Hi, how are you doing this is Client calling from Client's Office."

Huh, someone I haven't spoken to at this company before. I wonder if he's a new guy. Oh well, lemme just introduce myself and carry on.

"How ya doin, this is Northe. What can I help you with?"

"Well I was wondering, is this your fax number?"

Hmm, this is a noodle scratcher. You called this number and a person answered the phone. Wait a second, do I hear that funny fax noise..... no, no I don't. Ok, I'll give this clod some credit, maybe he thinks I have to turn on the machine in order to accept a fax. Let's get things straight with this jiggling vegetable before I jump to assumptions.

"The number that you're calling me on?"

"Yes, is this your fax number?"

Target analysis complete. Specificity is the enemy. Proceed with extreme sarcasm.

"Yeah, is your fax machine loaded with what you want to fax cuz I'm not getting anything right now."

"It has three papers.." ...Wow! The way this guy is climbing up the stupidity ladder is pretty impressive. Better take it easy on this fool, after all, I dislike picking on the mentally retarded.

"Hey, I'm kidding, champ. This is the office number. Do you need the fax number?"

"Well I have two numbers, one says 'Office' the other says 'Cell' so I wanted to try one for the fax number."

I seriously hate the fact that I don't work for my own company. I would be able to chew this idiot out and laugh about it with the higher-ups at Client's company for days on end. Instead I have to play patty-cake with someone I would sooner bludgeon to death with a candlestick.

"Client, are you serious? I don't think you have our fax number."

I think forcing enlightenment on the guy is the next best thing. Let's see if my gentle nudge can give him some realization.

"Well, I guess I should get the fax number from you then."

"Very good, its xxx-xxx-xxxx."

"Thanks, I'll fax it right over."

Three minutes later I have a fax machine dialing the office line.. not the fax line. I call the Client back. I instruct him to punch the new number I gave him into the fax machine as the number he has is dialing on the fax machine is our office number.

"Which number?" asks the guy that is about .4 seconds away from the beating of his life.

He's now wasting my time so I am going to do my part in juicing it for all its worth, I am positive the guy is not mentally retarded so its game on. Making an example of his stupidity is totally fair. Plus, it makes me seem like I'm busy in front of the Bosses.

"Read off the numbers you have."

He reads off the office number and the cell number.

"We seem to have a problem here, bucko. What happened to the number I just gave you a few minutes ago?"

"I guess I can't find it."

"The number I just gave you, that you wrote down, you now cannot find? I suppose I should give you the number again?" I ask.

"Yes, please."

"Tell ya what, is Client2 there?"

"Client2? Umm, yeah, he is here."

"Lemme speak to him."

Client2 gets on the line. Client2 has been working at that company for a few years. He knows me fairly well.

"Hey Client2, its Northe. Can you write down this number, punch it in to the fax machine and maybe put it into a database where Client can access it without a problem in the future?"

Client2 is kinda miffed. He does what I say and the fax comes over. Client2 never spoke of the situation again to me. Further still, I never spoke to Client again. I would imagine that he was fired or was bumped back down to a duty a bit more fitting like scratching and burping. Let this be a warning to all.. the plague spreads.

Persistence

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

I got a few Happy One Year in-mails over the weekend for Angry Time. Thanks for those fellas. However, I definitely sputtered into what should have been a festive event. Next year maybe I'll plan a gala of sorts. But yeah, a year in and many friends and even new friends later I'd say I'm having a good time ripping into this blog. Enuff about that shit tho, its not important. What is important is giving you Angry Timers another tale of Female Boss.

Literally about this time last year a friend of Female Boss, one of the Plastics, was interviewing for this job for some entertainment company or some such. I dunno what the deal was but it was prestigious among the circles of mindless lemmings they hang out with. Everyone was buzzing about the potential and dreaming up these crazy fantasies. I don't even wanna get into the crap that Female Boss was saying. Thinking that they were literally gonna become friends with the finest froth skimmed off the top from the cream of gene's pool in Hollywood. Realistic..

Anyway, the whole thing died down as Female Boss would call up the Plastic every day or so asking if she heard back. Then it went down to like twice a week and then once a month. Female Boss probably followed up on this for about four months. It was rather nerve racking as I would imagine that the Plastic must have felt bad enuff not getting the job let alone a call back after the interview. On top of that, to have your friend calling and prodding you fairly often asking the status on the opportunity only adds insult to injury, in my ever so humble opinion.

I am a guy from the school of thought that prescribes to "if something comes up I will be told." Sure, I'd give a call and ask how everything went, maybe ask a week later to follow up then I'd switch over to keeping my mouth shut. Not Female Boss tho, cuz what could be more important, the Plastic's ego or Female Boss' pursuit of stardom and living vicariously through the escapades of a middle-aged leather bag pumped full of botox and collagen? I'm sure the real answer is shocking.

The pathetic thing about all this is that it had to have been eating away at Female Boss for the additional half year of not knowing the final answer on this issue. It had to have been about two weeks ago or so. Female Boss picks up the phone to call up this Plastic. Its the usual shooting of the breeze and I could hear Female Boss really just dancing around an issue, making small talk, her heart wasn't in the conversation being had. With a lot of contemplation, Female Boss finally gets it out, "So have you heard anything about that job yet?"

Yes, a year later.

"Oh, nothing? Well wouldn't you think that not hearing back yet is still something positive? I mean, they haven't denied you yet, right?"

Its crap like that where I'd pay to see the reaction on the face of the Plastic. The look on my face remains stoic. Nothing done in this office can even raise my pulse anymore.

The Yolk's On You

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

This is another random thought post. I will see if I can't get around to posting some work related shit here again. Seriously. I just don't find myself having the time to do it. Whatever, like I have a huge audience anyway. Suck it up.

My friend is real frikkin sick right now. Chances are its a bronchial infection or some shit. I feel sorry for the guy. It sounds like its painful as hell and thankfully I haven't had much experience with anything like that in at least a decade. Tho I do know I hate that shit. Its gotta be worse than having the flu. Cuz you basically feel fine but whenever you cough it feels like someone is jamming a shiv into the reverse side of your sternum.

That's not the worst part. The worst part is the mucus.. the phlegm. The nastiest shit in the world that somehow your body is manufacturing for you to hock up, force out of your mouth with a great deal of provocation and then watch as it makes a gooey line into whatever you're spitting it into. I mean that's some insane shit. What the hell is that? You can literally stand atop a bridge and make like a 15 foot long line of phlegm if you really wanted to.. tho its gotta be the special brew phlegm. The raw egg whites.. the albumin if you will.

So yeah, anyway this poor guy is hacking up a lung as I speak to him on the phone on my way to work this morning. Pure suffering. The real pisser is that I don't think there's anything you can take over the counter that cures this crap.. aside from Vick's, but that doesn't really solve the problem. In this guy's darkest hour he pleads to me, "What the hell can I do?"

I answer back without fail, "Open up a diner." Wouldn't that be an interesting experiment? I'm gonna tell him to try it out while he's producing that kinda yolk from his lungs. Fuckin spit into a pan and fry that shit. See if it looks like eggs. I bet it does.

Just thought I'd put this out there while I had a moment at work. Anyway, time for lunch. Take it easy, fellas.

Cripes!

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

Three weeks passes by quicker than you think. What the hell am I doing? I am coming up on the 1 year anniversary of this mofo known as Angry Time and I'm sittin here acting like I have a life. Well that facade is over! The in-mails have been pouring in (at least 2 or 3 in like a month) and I must get back on top of my game. At least thats what I think those Cialis in-mails are suggesting. So let's go with just a random rant post shall we? Why not, its Friday.

Let's see. This morning on my way to work I came across a pretty crazy visual. Now before I get into it, lemme again preface this post with that even tho I am a complete asshole I mean only maiming harm by it. Nothing fatal.

So, as I am driving in I catch easily the fattest woman I have ever seen riding a bicycle. Let me make that clearer. Not the fattest woman I have ever seen. I am saying the fattest woman I have seen that is riding a bicycle. I mean she was huge. I am not hating. I think its great. She was really moving on that thing and I was impressed. Its just the whole process that you get to become that big. I mean that takes some serious time. Whatever, that's not important.

Here's my point. I made the comment to my friend I was on the phone with. Then I started to get visuals of the past. One of my favorites regarding people of larger girth than others is the vast difference between a wedgie on a person of average build versus a wedgie on a water buffalo of a person.

The way the ass eats the person's pants or shorts. Nay not eats, engulfs them. A voracious ass that pulls the shorts into it's maw and turns an already unflattering sight to a gut wrenching, wretched scene. The clothing stretches skin tight, the craterous form of their supple, over-sized ass is revealed much to my dismay! The humanity.. I mean come on. Jeezus! I suppose the real question is how do these people not feel it? How do you not feel your own ass eating the shorts off of your body while it defecates the fibers out your urethra!? How!?

This lady on the bike.. it was like a snake eating an antelope. Its like her ass-jaw unhinged itself and was slowly taking in the back tire. Surely, by the time she had reached her destination she was walking. An inanimate object versus an ass with the hunger of every third world nation combined makes quick work of its prey. I don't even want to think about it.

Instead, just take that into the weekend with yourselves. My plans this Saturday is to eat a steak the size of a toilet seat. Maybe, by the time I stand up from the meal my ass will have started on my slacks. Let's just say I can only hope that's the case.