Saturday, March 31, 2012
Karma
I've donated half the money. The other half is still weighing on me. It's just not who I am. I don't take money for favors. I need to find something good to do with the other half. Something that makes someone's day and helps them out. Until then, I put it in a box and I'll sit on it until the need arises.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Bad Karma?
Two days ago, I brought home a laptop that belongs to a woman at work. She had asked me in the past to look at it for her and I told her to just bring it in and I'll fix it. She said she'd pay me and I told her repeatedly that it wasn't necessary as I am happy to help. She never brought it in.
That was about two months ago. Well, three days ago, she asked again and made me the same offer and I told her to just bring it in, I'll take it home and fix it. She offered again to pay me, I told her again several times that it was completely unnecessary.
Over the past two nights, I spent ten hours of various involvement getting her computer back up to par. Yesterday, she asked if I got a chance to look at it and I told her that I did, but I needed to ask her some questions about various programs in it and after I got those answers it would be done that night and I'd bring it in today. She said again she would pay me, I said no. Well, I brought it in to her today as promised and she waited until I left my desk and sneaked me a thank you card with a buttload of money in it. She won't take it back.
I have never charged anyone for fixing anything ever and I've been feeling really weird about it since I got it. It took me four hours just to put it in my pocket. It doesn't feel right so I'm just going to give the money away. I don't even know if that will un-weird this. It feels like bad karma.
That was about two months ago. Well, three days ago, she asked again and made me the same offer and I told her to just bring it in, I'll take it home and fix it. She offered again to pay me, I told her again several times that it was completely unnecessary.
Over the past two nights, I spent ten hours of various involvement getting her computer back up to par. Yesterday, she asked if I got a chance to look at it and I told her that I did, but I needed to ask her some questions about various programs in it and after I got those answers it would be done that night and I'd bring it in today. She said again she would pay me, I said no. Well, I brought it in to her today as promised and she waited until I left my desk and sneaked me a thank you card with a buttload of money in it. She won't take it back.
I have never charged anyone for fixing anything ever and I've been feeling really weird about it since I got it. It took me four hours just to put it in my pocket. It doesn't feel right so I'm just going to give the money away. I don't even know if that will un-weird this. It feels like bad karma.
Bad-O's Song of the Day
I have a version of this in my computer that's so much prettier than this one. I can't find the one I have on the tube, so it's gotta be this one. I listened to this song on repeat all day today at work in my ear bud.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
This Should Be Interesting
My first post on Craigslist has yielded only curious bass players:
BASS PLAYER WANTED
Me and my buddy jam on Saturdays in his basement/bar. I'm 45, play guitar, and he's an old fuck who plays the drums. I'm getting tired of having to carry the whole thing and we want to find someone who's bored who just wants to come over and have a few beers and play bass with us. We're just getting this shit off the ground and we just like playing. My buddy always wants to play Spanish ballads, but I don't and since I'm on the guitar, we play a lot of bluesy/rock stuff. We ain't looking for Les Claypool or nothing. We don't have dreams of stardom. We just jam and we need some mortar in the mix. Maybe we could play out sometime down the road, who knows, who cares? You do have to be nimble though, we want to write songs. As a bonus, if you ride a bike (not a bicycle), you may have just found yourself a whole lot of new friends. Anyway, if you think you fit the role and you aren't a prick, let me know. Put 'I'd like to jam with you two assholes' in the reply so I know you're not trying to sell me a Russian girlfriend.
This is my second post:
Person Who Owns Bass Wanted
Looking for a bass player. Someone to just jam with. We are not a band. We just play and have a few brews on Saturday afternoons when we're not out riding. Actually, we don't give a shit if you just own a bass and are willing to drag it out of your house just to get away from your old lady. In fact, fuck you, I have a fucking bass and a fucking bass amp. Did you ever want to be a bass player? I will hook you up. Me and my buddy are looking for a third fucker to just come out and hold the fucking thing, look semi interested and hit an E or an A every so often. If you can swing a D in there, whoa. A B? WOW! Additionally, we are willing to artificially inflate your ego and provide beer so you believe it. Mid life crisis? Bring it. I'm 45. The drummer's a retired cop. We play in his lower level that he converted to a titty bar (not kidding (yeah, mirrors, lighting, pole, the whole bit)). I've been playing guitar for 35 years but I have low standards. Some of the greatest bands ever were started by people who didn't even own instruments when they started their bands. We are not one of those bands. Also, ladies, if you just have a nice rack and want to dance in Ray's bar, that's cool too. I have dollars. If you can play a bass and work the pole, I might just divorce my wife and marry you. And give you dollars. Seriously. Person with a bass. This is your fucking call. It's all about you, man. It's hero time. Be a hero.
Put "I have a huge rack" in your response so I know you're for real.
Pulled the ad, found somebody that quick!
BASS PLAYER WANTED
Me and my buddy jam on Saturdays in his basement/bar. I'm 45, play guitar, and he's an old fuck who plays the drums. I'm getting tired of having to carry the whole thing and we want to find someone who's bored who just wants to come over and have a few beers and play bass with us. We're just getting this shit off the ground and we just like playing. My buddy always wants to play Spanish ballads, but I don't and since I'm on the guitar, we play a lot of bluesy/rock stuff. We ain't looking for Les Claypool or nothing. We don't have dreams of stardom. We just jam and we need some mortar in the mix. Maybe we could play out sometime down the road, who knows, who cares? You do have to be nimble though, we want to write songs. As a bonus, if you ride a bike (not a bicycle), you may have just found yourself a whole lot of new friends. Anyway, if you think you fit the role and you aren't a prick, let me know. Put 'I'd like to jam with you two assholes' in the reply so I know you're not trying to sell me a Russian girlfriend.
This is my second post:
Person Who Owns Bass Wanted
Looking for a bass player. Someone to just jam with. We are not a band. We just play and have a few brews on Saturday afternoons when we're not out riding. Actually, we don't give a shit if you just own a bass and are willing to drag it out of your house just to get away from your old lady. In fact, fuck you, I have a fucking bass and a fucking bass amp. Did you ever want to be a bass player? I will hook you up. Me and my buddy are looking for a third fucker to just come out and hold the fucking thing, look semi interested and hit an E or an A every so often. If you can swing a D in there, whoa. A B? WOW! Additionally, we are willing to artificially inflate your ego and provide beer so you believe it. Mid life crisis? Bring it. I'm 45. The drummer's a retired cop. We play in his lower level that he converted to a titty bar (not kidding (yeah, mirrors, lighting, pole, the whole bit)). I've been playing guitar for 35 years but I have low standards. Some of the greatest bands ever were started by people who didn't even own instruments when they started their bands. We are not one of those bands. Also, ladies, if you just have a nice rack and want to dance in Ray's bar, that's cool too. I have dollars. If you can play a bass and work the pole, I might just divorce my wife and marry you. And give you dollars. Seriously. Person with a bass. This is your fucking call. It's all about you, man. It's hero time. Be a hero.
Put "I have a huge rack" in your response so I know you're for real.
Pulled the ad, found somebody that quick!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Catholics... Is There Anything Good That They Do?
http://news.yahoo.com/forced-adoptions-for-unwed-mothers-around-the-globe.html
You know, I've been registered to find my real mother for quite some time now. I knew that Catholic Charities had forged places of birth and altered birth dates. I figured maybe no one could find me because of that. I also figured maybe no one was looking for me, but, I never figured that they might not be looking for me because they may have thought I was dead.
This is a terrible story and it is heart-breaking for me. Somewhat for my own personal reasons, but mostly because she may be out there with her heart broken as well and now I know of the torture she may have had to endure while having me and the shit she may have had to hear while carrying me, damn... Times sure have changed. I can't imagine what she went through.
To my ACTUAL mother, if you are out there, I hope you are well and if there's a God, may he bless you.
To my adopted mother, I hope you have an eternity's worth of marshmallows and no stick to put 'em on.
You know, I've been registered to find my real mother for quite some time now. I knew that Catholic Charities had forged places of birth and altered birth dates. I figured maybe no one could find me because of that. I also figured maybe no one was looking for me, but, I never figured that they might not be looking for me because they may have thought I was dead.
This is a terrible story and it is heart-breaking for me. Somewhat for my own personal reasons, but mostly because she may be out there with her heart broken as well and now I know of the torture she may have had to endure while having me and the shit she may have had to hear while carrying me, damn... Times sure have changed. I can't imagine what she went through.
To my ACTUAL mother, if you are out there, I hope you are well and if there's a God, may he bless you.
To my adopted mother, I hope you have an eternity's worth of marshmallows and no stick to put 'em on.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Today
Had a very very good jam at Brother Ray's house today. It started off shaky as I wasn't really feeling it initially. Former family member and fellow rider Tom was there doing Ray's plumbing. Tom was there with his kid who - after talking to him for thirty seconds - has some serious problems. Kid's eight. I fear for this kid. So much so, I pulled Tom aside to talk to him. Tom was not all that receptive to the gravity of what I was telling him. This kid has some fucking issues.
In life, you find yourself in situations where you are keenly aware of their significance and yet you are powerless to solve. This is one of them for me. I feel for this kid and there is literally nothing I can do. I will get with Tom again about him because there is trouble there and I want to make sure that Tom is fully aware of my concern. I see Tom frequently as he is always out for rides with us. Tom used to be family until his wife - my wife's cousin - went out of her mind. I've known Tom for probably twelve to fifteen years.
Anyway, Ray's today... I probably wasn't feeling it right off when Tom and his kid were there, but after they left, had me a hit off the old peace pipe. I refuse to smoke around kids no matter how well it is concealed. I do not want to be a bad influence even though I am bad. I want to be a positive presence around people no matter how I can be. I want to be an inspiration. I want people to better themselves and I do pretty well at that. I tend to bring the best out of the people around me. Kids are impressionable. I don't want to be a negative presence in any kid's life no matter how brief.
Today, Ray was no exception to that. Ray was drumming like a fucking champ. He wants to do well at the drums and he's been practicing and it really shows, After Tom left and I vented to Ray about the "Tom's kid" situation, I was fucking inspired and I played shit no one's ever heard. Ray's jaw was dropped. Ray fucking thanked me "for coming into his life". I shit you not. How cool is that? Brother Ray said "dude, I will follow you anywhere with that guitar". Now, I'm a humble motherfucker. I don't know even how to process that shit. He told me that my playing is like "something from beyond, out there somewhere, the future...". I thanked him for actually wanting to play with me because no one does.
I am hard to play with. I admit that freely. I told Ray that from the get-go. He's the only fucker I've met who is willing to stick it out with me. I won't be playing any weddings or bar-mitzvahs, but if you listen and hang in there, I might amaze you. I don't play like anyone else, I play for my own amusement without a plan. That's why people can't play with me. They need to listen as I listen to them and we all ride it somewhere beautiful. That's the goal.
Unfortunately, when I try to record it, it falls way short because I am too painfully aware of the recorder. The record button is my kryptonite. I need someone to record and not tell me they turned it on. I don't like playing cover songs. That's other players' main problem with me. I like to create moments. I can't just play for the sake of playing. I can do structure but I need room to breathe and expand. I want an experience and I want to take you there with me. Me and Brother Ray have been doing that the past few weeks and I am grateful to Ray for taking this ride and enjoying it as much as I have.
Very good day today.
OH! Turns out that last weekend on our ride after we all separated on the highway, Ray's bike BROKE IN HALF behind me! IT BROKE IN HALF!
Good ride.
In life, you find yourself in situations where you are keenly aware of their significance and yet you are powerless to solve. This is one of them for me. I feel for this kid and there is literally nothing I can do. I will get with Tom again about him because there is trouble there and I want to make sure that Tom is fully aware of my concern. I see Tom frequently as he is always out for rides with us. Tom used to be family until his wife - my wife's cousin - went out of her mind. I've known Tom for probably twelve to fifteen years.
Anyway, Ray's today... I probably wasn't feeling it right off when Tom and his kid were there, but after they left, had me a hit off the old peace pipe. I refuse to smoke around kids no matter how well it is concealed. I do not want to be a bad influence even though I am bad. I want to be a positive presence around people no matter how I can be. I want to be an inspiration. I want people to better themselves and I do pretty well at that. I tend to bring the best out of the people around me. Kids are impressionable. I don't want to be a negative presence in any kid's life no matter how brief.
Today, Ray was no exception to that. Ray was drumming like a fucking champ. He wants to do well at the drums and he's been practicing and it really shows, After Tom left and I vented to Ray about the "Tom's kid" situation, I was fucking inspired and I played shit no one's ever heard. Ray's jaw was dropped. Ray fucking thanked me "for coming into his life". I shit you not. How cool is that? Brother Ray said "dude, I will follow you anywhere with that guitar". Now, I'm a humble motherfucker. I don't know even how to process that shit. He told me that my playing is like "something from beyond, out there somewhere, the future...". I thanked him for actually wanting to play with me because no one does.
I am hard to play with. I admit that freely. I told Ray that from the get-go. He's the only fucker I've met who is willing to stick it out with me. I won't be playing any weddings or bar-mitzvahs, but if you listen and hang in there, I might amaze you. I don't play like anyone else, I play for my own amusement without a plan. That's why people can't play with me. They need to listen as I listen to them and we all ride it somewhere beautiful. That's the goal.
Unfortunately, when I try to record it, it falls way short because I am too painfully aware of the recorder. The record button is my kryptonite. I need someone to record and not tell me they turned it on. I don't like playing cover songs. That's other players' main problem with me. I like to create moments. I can't just play for the sake of playing. I can do structure but I need room to breathe and expand. I want an experience and I want to take you there with me. Me and Brother Ray have been doing that the past few weeks and I am grateful to Ray for taking this ride and enjoying it as much as I have.
Very good day today.
OH! Turns out that last weekend on our ride after we all separated on the highway, Ray's bike BROKE IN HALF behind me! IT BROKE IN HALF!
Good ride.
Awesome Awesome Awesome Night
Man, I hopped on the bike at 11:00 p.m. tonight with the sort-of promise that there was karaoke at this bar in Gloucester called The Highland. I like me some karaoke, sorry. I do some righteous Doors and if yer real special, I'll hit you with Just A Gigolo (that got me felt up by a complete stranger in N. Carolina, btw, and I can prove it) and you will get squishy. Karaoke's gay? Eh, fuck you. Anyway, just got home.
The Highland is a house. No shit. It's a fucking house. A house where the entire downstairs has been converted into a bar. Yo, and it's in a neighborhood and every house in that neighborhood looks just like it. Crazy. Don't laugh, this place does business like you can't believe.
I was there last weekend on St. Patty's Day. I can't prove that because I have absolutely no recollection of that at all. That dismays me because I have severely cut down on my drinking. Severely. But it was St Patty's Day, I wasn't expecting to go out that night on a pub crawl. Plus I had been at Ray's, been out on a ride, so after four or five bars prior, I was hucking fammered by the time we allegedly hit the Highland. It really bothers me that I don't remember going there. I mean really. Doesn't matter though. I'm on good behavior. St. Pat. Fuck it. That's life. Whatever.
I was nervous going there though because I heard I pissed on the place, got flashed, and was my "normal obnoxious self" (which is endearing, trust me). There were a lot of people there tonight. I was afraid I might get my ass kicked unexpectedly by a complete stranger. Gloucester's a tough neighborhood and they don't forget shit.
Thought my sister in law might be there or her boyfriend. Didn't spot them right off. I was relieved that no one there wanted to kick my ass, so I guess I was pretty normal on St. Pats despite no recollection (god, that hurts to type and read, but this is life and it is what it is).
Anyway, tonight after a while watching the band (no karaoke), my sister in law spotted me. And she totally sucked my cock and yo, we FUCKED! Just kidding. I wouldn't fuck her, she's a blonde. No, she was there with her boyfriend and they were there with their people and I met all of them and man, fucking A, we all had a good fucking time.
I only had a couple of brews and among all the awesome people I met tonight, I met a woman who was there with her husband and they're from San Diego and going back tomorrow and she USED TO BE HOMELESS TOO! Now she buys parts for stealth spy planes! How cool is that? And she was homeless with a KID!
It was so fucking great to hang out and talk to someone who can actually relate to your life and you can swap stories about the shittiest stuff and laugh about it! And they don't look at you like some fucked up stranger. Awesome awesome awesome. And her husband was cool as shit too, funny motherfucker. My kind of sense of humor. Talking to him like I've known him for ten years.
In fact, I talked to everybody I met tonight like that. Wish I could be that guy all the time. Good ride back, too. Great fucking night.
Would've dug some karaoke though....
The Highland is a house. No shit. It's a fucking house. A house where the entire downstairs has been converted into a bar. Yo, and it's in a neighborhood and every house in that neighborhood looks just like it. Crazy. Don't laugh, this place does business like you can't believe.
I was there last weekend on St. Patty's Day. I can't prove that because I have absolutely no recollection of that at all. That dismays me because I have severely cut down on my drinking. Severely. But it was St Patty's Day, I wasn't expecting to go out that night on a pub crawl. Plus I had been at Ray's, been out on a ride, so after four or five bars prior, I was hucking fammered by the time we allegedly hit the Highland. It really bothers me that I don't remember going there. I mean really. Doesn't matter though. I'm on good behavior. St. Pat. Fuck it. That's life. Whatever.
I was nervous going there though because I heard I pissed on the place, got flashed, and was my "normal obnoxious self" (which is endearing, trust me). There were a lot of people there tonight. I was afraid I might get my ass kicked unexpectedly by a complete stranger. Gloucester's a tough neighborhood and they don't forget shit.
Thought my sister in law might be there or her boyfriend. Didn't spot them right off. I was relieved that no one there wanted to kick my ass, so I guess I was pretty normal on St. Pats despite no recollection (god, that hurts to type and read, but this is life and it is what it is).
Anyway, tonight after a while watching the band (no karaoke), my sister in law spotted me. And she totally sucked my cock and yo, we FUCKED! Just kidding. I wouldn't fuck her, she's a blonde. No, she was there with her boyfriend and they were there with their people and I met all of them and man, fucking A, we all had a good fucking time.
I only had a couple of brews and among all the awesome people I met tonight, I met a woman who was there with her husband and they're from San Diego and going back tomorrow and she USED TO BE HOMELESS TOO! Now she buys parts for stealth spy planes! How cool is that? And she was homeless with a KID!
It was so fucking great to hang out and talk to someone who can actually relate to your life and you can swap stories about the shittiest stuff and laugh about it! And they don't look at you like some fucked up stranger. Awesome awesome awesome. And her husband was cool as shit too, funny motherfucker. My kind of sense of humor. Talking to him like I've known him for ten years.
In fact, I talked to everybody I met tonight like that. Wish I could be that guy all the time. Good ride back, too. Great fucking night.
Would've dug some karaoke though....
Friday, March 23, 2012
Bad-O's Song of the Day
And yes, that's Bolero in there in the middle for any rubes that may come to my stupid page.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Speaking of H K...
...and for what it's worth, "Hello Kitty" with Safe Search Off gets you all the way to the bottom with no hardcore porn.
I Must Be Moving Up In The World
As I was typing the last post, my phone/Big Brother Machine dinged. Another email. I don't know why I even look because almost every single email I get on the four accounts I have going to it is garbage. This last one, however, makes me think that maybe I am short-selling my abilities to the world.
I pride myself on rising from the ashes of homelessness and working my way up through the trenches to get to the admirable position that I enjoy now. Perhaps foolishly though, I have contented myself in my current position in life. After all, I make real good money, people respect me and value my opinion, and I can go anywhere in my chosen field from guy who sweeps the floor to guy who has the keys and the alarm code. I pretty much have everything I've ever wanted and I'm not greedy. Who couldn't become content?
My chosen field is food, warehousing, distribution, manufacturing, logistics, and transportation. Like I said, I can go anywhere. This email though, makes me think that "anywhere" is much much bigger than I thought.
I have had a resume on Career Builder since a week after there was a Career Builder. I have gotten quite a few unsolicited responses from there and while some are legit, most are Russians trying to get me to handle their company's "international financial business".
Just a few minutes ago, I got one that is making me ponder my comparably humble service offerings to the world as I would have never dreamed of applying for this position, but perhaps I need to rethink my potential. The following is a slightly trimmed-down direct copy and paste (I swear this is true):
I hope all is well. My name is **** ******** and I'm a recruiter with *********. We came across your resume in our database and feel that you could be qualified for one of our positions with a Global Pharmaceutical Company. The job description is posted below for your review.
Trust me when I tell you that the description of duties is as difficult to comprehend as the word "Pharmacovigilance". I never in my wildest dreams had myself pegged as a scientist, but maybe I've been aiming too low. I mean sure, I've mixed chemicals before and experimented with plenty of drugs but never with the intent of documenting that research and using it to aid the whole of mankind on a global scale. The location is good too and I used to live right where that is. I think I know who it is even. I would like to move back there as well.
The more I think about it, the more I think I want to be a Sr. (SENIOR! That's not even the Spanish one, bitches!) Pharmacovigilance (spellcheck doesn't even know that word!) Safety Scientist. Shit, if Sepracor can put out a drug and claim that "science does not know exactly how Lunesta works", then I might just be fucking qualified because I would actually try to figure that shit out!
Imagine...
me...
I pride myself on rising from the ashes of homelessness and working my way up through the trenches to get to the admirable position that I enjoy now. Perhaps foolishly though, I have contented myself in my current position in life. After all, I make real good money, people respect me and value my opinion, and I can go anywhere in my chosen field from guy who sweeps the floor to guy who has the keys and the alarm code. I pretty much have everything I've ever wanted and I'm not greedy. Who couldn't become content?
My chosen field is food, warehousing, distribution, manufacturing, logistics, and transportation. Like I said, I can go anywhere. This email though, makes me think that "anywhere" is much much bigger than I thought.
I have had a resume on Career Builder since a week after there was a Career Builder. I have gotten quite a few unsolicited responses from there and while some are legit, most are Russians trying to get me to handle their company's "international financial business".
Just a few minutes ago, I got one that is making me ponder my comparably humble service offerings to the world as I would have never dreamed of applying for this position, but perhaps I need to rethink my potential. The following is a slightly trimmed-down direct copy and paste (I swear this is true):
I hope all is well. My name is **** ******** and I'm a recruiter with *********. We came across your resume in our database and feel that you could be qualified for one of our positions with a Global Pharmaceutical Company. The job description is posted below for your review.
Job Title: Sr. Pharmacovigilance Safety Scientist
Location: **** *********, PA
Yeah, that's right. Eat me.
The more I think about it, the more I think I want to be a Sr. (SENIOR! That's not even the Spanish one, bitches!) Pharmacovigilance (spellcheck doesn't even know that word!) Safety Scientist. Shit, if Sepracor can put out a drug and claim that "science does not know exactly how Lunesta works", then I might just be fucking qualified because I would actually try to figure that shit out!
Imagine...
me...
Mr. Scientist.
Man, I like the sound of that.
Bad-O's Song of the Day
I have a shower radio which is pretty cool mostly. However, changing the station in the shower is not an option as the dial is small and a pain in the ass to zero in on that one molecule that tunes a station in, so I am at the mercy of the DJ when I'm in there.
That being said, I hate Linkin Park. I was in the shower this morning and this came on and I gotta say, I was really digging it. I got to work, put in the one ear-piece/thing that makes everyone in the office disappear and it put me in a great mood for the whole goddamn day. Turns out the video is decent too. So fuck it, it's the song of the day.
That being said, I hate Linkin Park. I was in the shower this morning and this came on and I gotta say, I was really digging it. I got to work, put in the one ear-piece/thing that makes everyone in the office disappear and it put me in a great mood for the whole goddamn day. Turns out the video is decent too. So fuck it, it's the song of the day.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Curse of Being My Assistant
Well, there may be a curse being my assistant. I've had two assistants since I've been at my job. Both of them have had the same thing happen to them. No it's not crabs. It's flat tires while out on the road during lunch. Both of them being women of I guess old school, neither of them could change a tire. This one, like the previous (my ex work-wife, the fantastic Jackie Attackie) called me to tell me that they were stuck.
Now, I know from my lengthy experience in the role of helper monkey that there's some you win and some you lose and recently, I have racked up a couple of "L"'s (and that bugs the ever-loving shit out of me). Well, I got my good juju back today, chalked up a "W" and now I'm starting to think maybe I ought to stitch me a fucking cape and get me a super-hero name and take my game to the streets. Once again, I had to go rescue my assistant. I can't send somebody else to go get 'em, they're my girls. Plus, they gotta get their asses back to work!
Way back, when Jackie Attackie had her flat, it was in South Philly on some narrow ass street in eight fucking inches of snow. Wonderful that her spare also lowered from the undercarriage by a crank (into the filthy nasty slush). Super. Today, it was across from the piers under the Walt on Columbus. Awesome area. Great place to dump a body. It looked like she ran her car through a chain link fence. Her tire had two lengths of chain-link gauge wire hanging out slapping her wheel wells and all. Bad lug nut too. Fuck it. A W is a W and I'll take it. Doesn't hurt to get some good will in with your people either, let 'em know that you've got their back.
Now, I know from my lengthy experience in the role of helper monkey that there's some you win and some you lose and recently, I have racked up a couple of "L"'s (and that bugs the ever-loving shit out of me). Well, I got my good juju back today, chalked up a "W" and now I'm starting to think maybe I ought to stitch me a fucking cape and get me a super-hero name and take my game to the streets. Once again, I had to go rescue my assistant. I can't send somebody else to go get 'em, they're my girls. Plus, they gotta get their asses back to work!
Way back, when Jackie Attackie had her flat, it was in South Philly on some narrow ass street in eight fucking inches of snow. Wonderful that her spare also lowered from the undercarriage by a crank (into the filthy nasty slush). Super. Today, it was across from the piers under the Walt on Columbus. Awesome area. Great place to dump a body. It looked like she ran her car through a chain link fence. Her tire had two lengths of chain-link gauge wire hanging out slapping her wheel wells and all. Bad lug nut too. Fuck it. A W is a W and I'll take it. Doesn't hurt to get some good will in with your people either, let 'em know that you've got their back.
My motto: If you can't do something good for somebody, well then, fuck ya.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
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