Dreams of Yesterday

I got a call this weekend from not one, but TWO of my ex-girlfriends this past week. Let us delve into this for a moment. Ex number 1 I couldn't give 2 shits about. She's engaged, blah, blah, blah. Long story short, things are WAY over and they have been for a long time. Ex numero dos, that's a different story. The relationship wasn't the best because she was cheating on her "real boyfriend" with me. The shit hit the fan when he found out and I haven't seen her since. She basically picked him over me, which blows the ass. I have every right to be angry with her, but for some reason, I can't get her out of my head. And now I'm dreaming about her again. She haunts my existence still. The bullshit thing is that even though I've told myself that I'm over her, if she were to call right now and say she wanted to be with me, I'd do it no questions asked. Relationships: Destroying souls since 20,000 BC.

On a completely unrelated note, I bought a new TV! 52" Flat Panel goodness. I shall name thee Hercules of the Kingdom of Awesomeness! Oh yes, it rocks.

"The boss is really riding me!"

I wake up yesterday and it's 10:30am. This is a good time to wake up on the weekend. Not so good on the weekday when you need to be at work by 9:00am. When I roll in to work at about 11:15 or so, the boss happens to be leaving on an errand. I told him that the alarm I have stopped working (which is the truth but it still sounds like the most retarded excuse ever). Then he says to me, "I looked over the work you did yesterday and it looks like you did maybe a 1/2 an hour of work. What did you do yesterday?" I felt like busting an Office Space and yelling "I deal with the goddamn customers so the engineers don't have to! I have people skills!" My stammering excuse came out as "I was, uhh, doing updates on the software." Very eloquent fo shizzle.

Long story short, I don't know if he's gonna keep buying my excuses, so I guess I'll try and keep my work output above the "quadriplegic monkey" level. We'll see how it goes. By the way, the San Fran trip went good. The hated Giants lost while I was in town, which I am going to take FULL CREDIT for (even though I wasn't at the game). I wasn't accosted visually by any flamers and we were able to maneuver ourselves throughout town without too many problems. In my next post I'll talk about the nifty 4 person protest we saw. What were they protesting? Stay tuned, you're not going to believe this shit...

San Francisco & The Flamboyants

Thinking ahead a few days, I'm looking forward to a short weekend trip to the mystical shores of San Jose and San Francisco. I've been through San Francisco a few times in the past and, for the most part, had experiences there that I would deem as "good times"; The word merriment could perhaps be bandied about whilst describing previous trips.

Nevertheless (is nevertheless one word or three or....fuggit... back to the story), one thing that I won't ever get used to is the ultra-flamboyant gay guys cruising around in their sequined short-shorts and in a bright pink shirt that is knotted up in the middle to show some man cleavage. Now San Francisco is not overrun with these characters (contrary to popular belief, I'm sure), but you do see them more in San Fran than in other places; It would not have the reputation of "Mecca of Gay" otherwise (yes, I have a gay friend that does pray in the direction of San Francisco twice daily).

I'm not one to bash anyone's lifestyle, but please spare me my fucking eyes for the love of all that is holy. I'm glad your comfortable with who you are and all that, but do you really need to parade yourself through the streets wearing your sister's hot pants and a pink boa? No, you don't. I liken that display as a proverbial smoke blown in my face by an inconsiderate smoker, only this is an assault of the eyes instead of the nose. Save that shit for the parades, gentlemen. I mean they happen like, what, every other week up there right? ;)

Let's put this in perspective: You know those chicks who are like 50 or so pounds above the average weight scale? Well, it seems like a few of those "big boned" chicas like to prance around wearing "sexy" t-shirts pilfered from the Gap Kids store, plump mid-sections exposed, displaying for all to see the milky white skin that likens an image of an uncooked turkey. Not a pretty sight, unless you have a turkey fetish, in which case you should seek help. Well, that is how it is seeing these doods dressed up like 2 dollar whores! The same reactions are rendered. There's even a step-by-step reaction chart when you see a fat chica in a little shirt and/or an ultra flamboyant:

1. Initial sighting
2. Turn away in disgust/pain/embarrassment
3. (optional) vomit
4. "Hey, isn't that (insert famous landmark here)"
5 . (also optional) "Hey, isn't that (insert what you had for lunch here, which is now in a disgusting steaming puddle at your feet)"

We'll see what happens this weekend. May I not be scarred for life by any sort of spectacle of this nature. Judging by past experience however, this scenario is bordering on the "likely" end of the "I'm fucked" scale. I'll have a full report next Monday (lucky you!).

Thank the lord for the music!

It's pretty much gotten to the point here at work where I don't even feel like putting in any effort anymore. The only thing now that keeps me on task is my MP3 player. As soon as I put the music on, I have no problem getting to work & becoming a nice worker drone for several hours. Seriously, if I didn't have the MP3's, the grim spectre that is boredom would have taken my soul long ago. As a follow up to a previous post I made about the MP3 player I own, the Creative Zen Micro, let me reiterate that it does indeed, roxorize. I'm glad I bought it since it has SAVED MY LIFE! Unfortunate side effect: I'm pregnant. Coincidence? Probably.

**Editor's note: I'm not really pregnant, but I wanted to throw a loop into this blog seeing as how it is sweeps week. I'm also a man, so actually getting pregnant would be impossible... or is it? (cue organ: DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!) Carry on.**