Friday, August 17, 2007

Those Plastic Little Dudes

Nobody parties like Philly parties.
Plastic Little @ some art gallery on 8/16/2007

Pack of Rats


NBC


Jon Thousand


The Freshman






Mic Tastic







Glad to Get Gone

Today is the end of my storied tenure at my job. See you later suckers. And while there will be some things I miss, one of them with not be my co-worker with breath so awful it could peel paint. I don't really like to insult people for things they can't control, and I consider this dragon breath to be a medical condition, so it's somewhat out of bounds to go after him for that. However, if it turns out he's been eating poop for breakfast each day thus causing this condition, then I'll be quite upset.

Today, as my last day, has led to Dragon Breath badgering me to give him my email address so he can see how I'm doing when I go to school. For a number of reasons I'm reluctant to give him my email, not the least of which would be his total inability to use a keyboard. I will include actual email evidence to support this. Before I paste it in, let me explain that I had printed an order for a customer with our color copier before I left work on the prior day. The job I printed needed to be cut and was going to be used in the spines of binders, thus they are called spine cards. Draggo emailed me:

Good Morning: Jay
I found thses spines cards on the color copier.
Did she recivve them, if not I put them at the cutter, I don't know
how many?
Thank you
Dragon Breath

That, from the typos to the bizarre formatting is a real email from this man. A man who constantly asks me about Apple computers and told me he bought Mac OS X for dummies. The whole point of Mac, it's whole shtick, is its simplicity. It's like buying a book on card games to figure out how to play war. Unfortunately, dummy is too soft a word to describe this man. Remedial is more appropriate. He's got a brain like a fish. Every day he arises is a new day. That's got it's benefits for sure, wouldn't it be nice to see your wife anew each day, then be shocked that this woman you love, loves you back? That early feeling of attraction daily. As nice as it is for him it is frustrating for me. He's been at this job for nearly 20 years, yet, I consistently explain his responsibilities to him.

Today is my last day and won't let me go with out insuring that his legacy in my mind remain in tact. He asked me, "So when do you actually leave for New York?"
I replied, "In two weeks."
He immediately shot back, "You leave next week?"
What! No, I just said, two weeks. Unless he was miserably failing at some Jedi mind trick, he's not able to process information from ears to brain to mouth.

Then later on he asked me, "When is your regular birthday?" I asked him to repeat his question, which he did kindly, "When is your regular birthday?"
What other birthdays are there? I said, "September 30th."
He said, "Oh, so that is coming up soon. How old will you be?"
"I'll be 27," I answered.
A brief pause while his brain computed, "You were born in 1981, then?"

This last day is not over yet and I'm scared it might not ever end. Because clearly all rules of logic and coherent thought break down here.

Denton Tall Tales #8

Russ was a good friend of mine and lived within walking distance, so we used to hang out a lot. He was a year older than me. I remember thinking Russ was pretty normal and smart for someone who lived in Denton. But, he quit high school TWICE. (He came back to school for the only thing that school could offer him, glimpses of sweet teen aged trim. Don't forget this was pre-internet Denton.) He eventually did graduate-2 years after I graduated, when he was 20. It was his last year of eligibility.

Russ was the first person I knew who went to raves. He also was the first person to wear Jnco jeans in Denton. I'm not saying the jeans and the raves are related. I'm not saying they're not either. He was amongst the first people who tried to get me to do ecstasy. He once told me this crazy story about a guy he saw at a rave. The guy had done so much ecstasy that he had a perpetual hard-on. He was dancing like a maniac and the friction from his pants and penis caused him to cum over and over again. He was either too fucked up to notice or care, and he kept cumming and dancing with this huge crusty stain on the front of his pants.

That story scared the shit out of me and it took me a couple of years to muster up the courage to “roll”. Looking back the story is completely ridiculous and an obvious fabrication, but I believed that rural myth as if it were the gospel.

PubeLog

While you guys are blogging it up, so is that Pube$ fella...

http://pubelog.blogspot.com/

Check it...
I'll post some stuff after the weekend...
Me sleepy now...