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
All In a Day
Yesterday was beautiful out. Got a call from a friend in Pa (the angry cupcake for those in the know) to go for a ride but I had already planned to go over to Ray's to jam. So, I packed up the guitar, the amp, and the other stuff and was sucking in that air outside while hoofing it out to the car with every breath wishing I was getting on the bike instead. But, plans are plans and a good jam at Ray's makes for a pretty good day, so fuck it.
We're jamming for a while and bullshitting (mostly bullshitting, honestly) and next thing you know, here comes Joel. Then comes Dave and Tom, then Mike shows up and suddenly, I'm the only one here with four wheels. Pack up, head home, grab the bike and back to Ray's. So, the nice day was not lost in Ray's basement bar.
We're jamming for a while and bullshitting (mostly bullshitting, honestly) and next thing you know, here comes Joel. Then comes Dave and Tom, then Mike shows up and suddenly, I'm the only one here with four wheels. Pack up, head home, grab the bike and back to Ray's. So, the nice day was not lost in Ray's basement bar.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Bad-O's Song of the Day
Do what I'll say and you'll have all the power
Make the suckers dance and charge 'em by the hour
Make the suckers dance and charge 'em by the hour
Don't be scared! Crank it up!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Search Results 3
Today's search was for "The Worst Thing Ever". Now, it's not that I'm in a shit mood or anything and wanted to see something depressing. Actually, quite the contrary. I feel great. So great in fact, that I don't want anything to fuck that up and being in such a good mood on such a great day, I figure the only thing that could fuck that up would have to be The Worst Thing Ever.
So, I want to be on the lookout for that thing so I can prepare myself accordingly in case I am confronted by whatever manifestation that the monstrosity called The Worst Thing Ever presents. Left to my own imagination, I would wrongly be on the lookout for a flying auto-loading cannon that shoots giant razorblades that have herpes and plays Ke$ha songs at over three hundred decibels.
Thanks to Google though, I now know what to look out for and this one's worse because it's more common and sinister than a flying herpes razor Ke$ha cannon.
Behold, The Worst Thing Ever:
Ok, what we've got here is kind of complicated. I actually had to go past the obvious; Pasty cracker kid with a Bieber making the South Beach kissy face, belting his underoos, and representing his cul-de-sac by throwing up what he must believe to be gang signs to his imaginary "crew" while simultaneously using his pinkies (which fortunately were not needed for his "representin") to lift his shirt to show you his tats.
His tats.
I had to read up. What he's got there is what comic-savvy posters have declared to be the "Capcom vs. Marvel roster" I assume in it's entirety. Now, this is why children are not allowed to get tattoos. See? Some laws are valid!
More frightening than that particular choice of a life-partner-as-body-art is the one below it. To spare you the retching (imaging that, "retching" has no 'w') that I endured, it says "I wanna take you for a ride" which I can only assume means that if you ask him nice enough, he will bend over for you and you can pretend you have your very own pony.
So, what have we learned here? Well, I learned that I need not fear "The Worst Thing Ever" and that in itself was worth getting out of bed today to learn. In fact, thanks to Google, not only do I know that, but just to be on the safe side, I also Googled "flying herpes razor Ke$ha cannon" and guess what? There is no such thing!
Fuck yeah, life's good!
I delight in knowing that I need never fear today's search term: The Worst Thing Ever
Thank you: Google
AAAAHHH!: Number 2 worst thing ever (that's a dude).
Bad-O's Song of the Day
One of my favorite songs in the world.
I know it’s better this way, but you still tear my guts out. Thanks for still being my friend. Much love to you.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Strange
I'm sitting here watching a Jimi Hendrix video on youtube and i look to the right and under "more recommended videos" is a Black Spirit video, another Hendrix video, and one of my own videos. Youtube is recommending that I watch myself.
Mike's Gifts
After I got home today, I went to the garage and put the stuff Mike gave me yesterday on my bike. I'm kind of up in the air about the foot pegs. Not sure they go. I actually liked the plain old black rubber cheapos. I don't know, maybe they'll grow on me.
The linkage he gave me on the other hand, I like that very much. I had wrapped the stock one in leather because the crappy metal that it was made of just looked like shit especially considering how much this motherfucker cost. This one's chrome, and it's nothing fancy just the way I like it.
The linkage he gave me on the other hand, I like that very much. I had wrapped the stock one in leather because the crappy metal that it was made of just looked like shit especially considering how much this motherfucker cost. This one's chrome, and it's nothing fancy just the way I like it.
Before
After
And the pegs;
I really think the new pegs are going back in Ray's box...
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Weird Year
This year has changed me. Up until recently, for the most part, I have been a fucking mess all year. However, aside from that, apparently, I've been a hell of a guy!
My wife came home from a shower today with her family and when she came home she told me right off, "holy shit honey, you were all anyone was talking about at the shower".
I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about and in my experience being me, that shit could go either way. She proceeded to tell me about that anniversary party that I went to about a month ago that I had posted a pic from previously that I deleted with the 177 other posts. All the women in my wife's family that were at the shower and at that party were talking about how I was like someone they'd never met before. Friendly as hell, outgoing, dancing with the uncles' wives, talkative, not the usual more reserved (but still witty and engaging ;) ) person that I am known to be. In short, it seems I actually charmed their fucking pants off.
The reality?
Leading up to that party, for various reasons, I had spent all of 2012 training for an Olympic drinking contest. I think I had five or more beers before even walking in to that party and probably another six to eight while there. But spaced out properly, I can very easily keep my head and I remember having a very good time and apparently, that was not a false fuzzy memory. It's official, I was Prince Fucking Charming.
And I've been that guy all year. For Christ's sake, my very best female friend in the world wants us to be blood brother and sister!! I'm buying two very special knives for that occasion (if you don't know what I'm talking about, that last sentence is going to seem weird-sorry). It's been an amazing year so far.
Not only that, my wife is so hard in love with me at this moment that she could probably catch me fucking a dog in the ass and let me off with only a look. More in love with me now than I think ever and there was a time when I thought that could not be possible. I've been sending her texts at work every few days for the past month and a half or so that have been knocking her socks off and they're just nothing. This is a transcript of the entirety of the last one:
me: Girlie, you are so beautiful, I don't know how you keep the butterflies from landing on your face.
her: Awe (sic) honey, you actually brought a tear to my eye. I love you so much... I'm so lucky to have you.
me: :)
My wife told me that she showed that to her coworker and that girl gave my wife that awed-girl look and then HUGGED MY WIFE'S PHONE and she got a tear in her eye.
On top of all of that, the passion level has gone through the roof. Like, back to "just met" levels. You know what I'm talking about? That supreme "new" level that eventually dies or levels off after a period of time and then is completely buried by children. I've always been a very passionate person and my wife and I had a long-ass run, but time kind of smothers that even for the best of them. Somehow though, in all the haze of 2012, I have managed to do the impossible and bring it back full circle and bloom that shit like it's brand fucking new.
It is frightening me that "ideal me" is somewhere between regular me and a raging alcoholic leaning harder toward the raging alcoholic. I can't live like that. Despite my social improvements, this year has been a real motherfucker. Up until two weeks ago, no sleep, dramatic weight loss, dazed at work, suicidal, you know, full-blown crazy. But other than that, apparently, I've been a hell of a guy! The thing I have to do is maintain that social level and passion while not being the raging alcoholic that 2012 spawned.
It's rough being me... but I can't say it's not interesting. It's definitely an adventure. I just wish some of those adventures would be overwhelmingly positive for a change just lightly peppered with some humbling. I have enough character! I need joy! That would be fucking good... Joy!
My wife came home from a shower today with her family and when she came home she told me right off, "holy shit honey, you were all anyone was talking about at the shower".
I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about and in my experience being me, that shit could go either way. She proceeded to tell me about that anniversary party that I went to about a month ago that I had posted a pic from previously that I deleted with the 177 other posts. All the women in my wife's family that were at the shower and at that party were talking about how I was like someone they'd never met before. Friendly as hell, outgoing, dancing with the uncles' wives, talkative, not the usual more reserved (but still witty and engaging ;) ) person that I am known to be. In short, it seems I actually charmed their fucking pants off.
The reality?
Leading up to that party, for various reasons, I had spent all of 2012 training for an Olympic drinking contest. I think I had five or more beers before even walking in to that party and probably another six to eight while there. But spaced out properly, I can very easily keep my head and I remember having a very good time and apparently, that was not a false fuzzy memory. It's official, I was Prince Fucking Charming.
And I've been that guy all year. For Christ's sake, my very best female friend in the world wants us to be blood brother and sister!! I'm buying two very special knives for that occasion (if you don't know what I'm talking about, that last sentence is going to seem weird-sorry). It's been an amazing year so far.
Not only that, my wife is so hard in love with me at this moment that she could probably catch me fucking a dog in the ass and let me off with only a look. More in love with me now than I think ever and there was a time when I thought that could not be possible. I've been sending her texts at work every few days for the past month and a half or so that have been knocking her socks off and they're just nothing. This is a transcript of the entirety of the last one:
me: Girlie, you are so beautiful, I don't know how you keep the butterflies from landing on your face.
her: Awe (sic) honey, you actually brought a tear to my eye. I love you so much... I'm so lucky to have you.
me: :)
My wife told me that she showed that to her coworker and that girl gave my wife that awed-girl look and then HUGGED MY WIFE'S PHONE and she got a tear in her eye.
On top of all of that, the passion level has gone through the roof. Like, back to "just met" levels. You know what I'm talking about? That supreme "new" level that eventually dies or levels off after a period of time and then is completely buried by children. I've always been a very passionate person and my wife and I had a long-ass run, but time kind of smothers that even for the best of them. Somehow though, in all the haze of 2012, I have managed to do the impossible and bring it back full circle and bloom that shit like it's brand fucking new.
It is frightening me that "ideal me" is somewhere between regular me and a raging alcoholic leaning harder toward the raging alcoholic. I can't live like that. Despite my social improvements, this year has been a real motherfucker. Up until two weeks ago, no sleep, dramatic weight loss, dazed at work, suicidal, you know, full-blown crazy. But other than that, apparently, I've been a hell of a guy! The thing I have to do is maintain that social level and passion while not being the raging alcoholic that 2012 spawned.
It's rough being me... but I can't say it's not interesting. It's definitely an adventure. I just wish some of those adventures would be overwhelmingly positive for a change just lightly peppered with some humbling. I have enough character! I need joy! That would be fucking good... Joy!
1083,
thank you for some joy.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Bad-O's Song of the Day
Vivaldi has always been my favorite classical composer. His works to me are passionate and beautiful and liquid. People consider Mozart a genius, and though that may be true, his works while brilliant don't touch me at all. Vivaldi is sex.
This is Sposa Son Disprezzata which I believe translates to 'son of a hated spouse' if I remember correctly (I'm not going to bother looking it up, pretty sure that's right). (and no, I did not find this because of Cecilia Bartoli's performance being used on the Sopranos. I had it before that). Anyway, this is Sumi Jo performing.
This just makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Safe Search Off 3
Today's search term is: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
This was a close one. However there were only eight pages, so it currently ranks the highest on the list as far as getting down to business. Also, when looking through Di s ney (I don't want anyone to find my page searching for Dis..y) pictures, you really have to pay attention because at high speed scanning, animation all kind of blurs into each other.
Today's results are three of the very last four pictures on Google images in this search this being the better drawn of the lot;
Yes, that's Lu mi ere blowing a load all over Be lle's ass.
The other two pictures were Lum...e as a candle sticking his candle stick all up in there and the other was Beast dripping hot wax on Be lle's most intimate of areas while facilitating impregnating her (droppin' off the goo).
In contrast, for this post I did a comparison on Yahoo and suffered their amazingly slow load times to find that Yahoo had no porn on the same search.
Today's search term was BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Hardcore Porn by Page: 8
Thank you Google
BOOOO!: Yahoo
Monday, March 5, 2012
Search Results 2
Today's search was for the answer to a question that many a man has pondered throughout history but lacked the resources to get an answer to. Prior to the internets, our research on today's question would probably have begun at say a mall, decided in a bar at 1:45 a.m. and finally answered while watching television alone later that night.
Fortunately for us, the internet has a reach way beyond the confines of one's own neighborhood and is not solely limited to people that were fortunate enough to land a gig on a soap opera. With the internet, we can get an honest answer to an honest question.
Fortunately for us, the internet has a reach way beyond the confines of one's own neighborhood and is not solely limited to people that were fortunate enough to land a gig on a soap opera. With the internet, we can get an honest answer to an honest question.
Without further adieu, today's search was for: The Most Beautiful Girl In The World
Put on your sunglasses now and brace yourself for the first result.
This is her;
behold
Unfortunately, I cannot tell you her name because any exploration of the page lasting longer than four seconds gets you a BIG ASS ad that you apparently cannot close. I guess displaying a picture of the most beautiful girl in the world gets you some serious net traffic so I reckon ads on any page containing this picture are to be expected, even COMPLETE PAGE OBSCURING UN-CLOSABLE ADS. I for one cannot wait for my windfall to begin. Oh joy!
To put Her Most Beautiful Highness in perspective here, let me tell you that coming in at first loser was none other than Megan Fox. That's right Megs (she tells me to call her that), you are numero deux (that was french and spanish (fuck you, I am Mr. Internationale)). Coming in at number four was someone named Ksenia Sukhinova. I do not know her, but in her picture she is holding a crown on her head so she must be royalty in some very windy country.
Now, you may think that I am such a jaded prick that I posted what's-her-name's (Her Most Beautiful Highness) picture to make fun or some such shit and to that end, I would say that you don't know me at all. I am going to go ahead and whole heartedly suggest that it is not only possible that Her Most Beautiful Highness here is indeed the most beautiful girl in the world but that it is actually highly likely.
For one thing, I have no idea who this person is and I would expect that to be the case because I, as a fucking shnook from the snotty brownstone suburbs of Pennsylvania exiled to South Jersey, would be the first to admit that I would not be worthy of even knowing the name of a person of such esteem. I am but a turd. I know who Megs is and if she were number one, I would not be worthy and would not know of her. So, that to me, is evidence that Her Most Beautiful Highness' most beautifulness might be genuine.
Further evidence? That big fucking ad that fantastically prevents me from knowing her name. Divine intervention? You betcha. I am scum. I am a piece of scum that grows on a turd that lies in a feted stagnant toilet full of more scum in an abandoned truckstop in Scummenfield NJ. I cannot know her name for if I did, it would taint her beauty. I need no further evidence.
Now, to those of you that may still think that my toadliness is setting Her Most Beautiful Highness up for degradation, prepare yourself for my points of agreement of her title based solely on this picture:
She's a regular girl.
She's not fancied up as true beauty doesn't need a paint job.
She seems comfortable in her own skin.
She looks like a very nice, like-able person (who knows though, right?)
She has warm, genuine eyes
You could probably afford to keep her for true beauty needs not opulence.
Anyway, anything more that I could say about this picture would be pure specualtion and probably start to get very creepy by about point number 34, so I'm just going to stop there and allow you to recalibrate your scales when weighing out the question of: The Most Beautiful Girl In The World.
Thank you: Google.
Bad-O's Song of the Day
My favorite song for the past two days. It says nine minutes but it's really only like 4:20 or something.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Bad-O's Song of the Day
Heard this song on satellite on the way home from the barber shop. Put it on full volume and just let it rip me up. Good Sunday song.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Bad-O's Song of the Day
For the first time in a long time, I heard something on terrestrial radio today that I actually like and this is it.
Good fuckin' groove...
Friday, March 2, 2012
R.I.P. Davy Jones
If you listen real close, you might just be able to figure out who wrote this song. If you can't and you find out who did, you'll give yourself a palmer. At one time, this was my favorite song. My parents had forbid me from watching The Monkees after my mother saw an episode with Peter Tork being chased through Paris by a bunch of sixties chicks. I used to sneak The Monkees. It was my second act of defiance as I recall. I used to love this show and I remember this episode. I am genuinely saddened by the death of Davy Jones.
Oh, and fuck you, this rocks.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Search Results
I would like to start a new thing here. Being a helper monkey, it is my nature to do things to save people time, help them out of a jam, fix their problems, or possibly enlighten others about things that they may not be aware of.
However, being a helper monkey does not make me omnipotent, so it puts me sometimes at a slight disadvantage. Fortunately, in this day and age, omnipotence is merely a Google away. Going forward (since I deleted 178 previous posts), I would like to save anybody who may read my bullshit a few minutes of their days by periodically consulting the great omnipotence on various topics and revealing the mysteries of the universe one at a time.
So, without further adieu, this is a new segment I am going to (and already have) title "Search Results". We may all learn a little bit about ourselves and humanity in the process. Anyway...
I Googled "The Greatest Thing In The World" and this is the greatest thing in the world (at the moment);
However, being a helper monkey does not make me omnipotent, so it puts me sometimes at a slight disadvantage. Fortunately, in this day and age, omnipotence is merely a Google away. Going forward (since I deleted 178 previous posts), I would like to save anybody who may read my bullshit a few minutes of their days by periodically consulting the great omnipotence on various topics and revealing the mysteries of the universe one at a time.
So, without further adieu, this is a new segment I am going to (and already have) title "Search Results". We may all learn a little bit about ourselves and humanity in the process. Anyway...
I Googled "The Greatest Thing In The World" and this is the greatest thing in the world (at the moment);
Who knew?
For the record, number sixteen is a pig in green rubber boots and number twenty-one is blowing a load on a chick's tits. Kinda makes me wonder where blowing a load on a pig in green rubber boots would land...
Fuck Me
My recycle bin after a week and a day:
Plastic. Lots of plastic.
Nice thing about where I work, I can go in looking like I crawled in off the street or I can go in looking like it's motherfucking prom night.
Today I opted for Dapper Fuckin' Dan:
Apologized to my boss in case he's noticed I ain't been right the past month and a half and explained myself (mostly). All is well. Back to kicking ass. Fortunately for me, I've had a lot of experience crawling out of the sewer. I have been here before, I know my way around.
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