Another Not a Resolution Post


This is the second installment my not a resolution post.  Figured it was a good way to get the year going.  I’m sure you’re not thinking, ‘Gee Ro’ there should be another two posts.”  Well, you know what?  You’re correct, but it appears the first year I was being distracted, and last year I was in the clink.  It’s been just over 6 months since I got out.

Like I said last time, I don’t fucking do resolutions.  But I made one a this past year, that I am doing my best, every single day, to maintain; to not go back to prison.  It’s pretty simple, in fact, ending up there is like winning a small raffle.   California’s prison population is around 112k,  California’s estimated population in 2014 was around 38 million.  I was one of the lucky .003%.  Take that occupiers.

It’s been way good being out.  I was able to reconnect with some cats on twitter.  Saw that a few cats had dropped me from their timeline.   Connected with a fellow spherian, who even answered a question for me.    I was even able to provide an hour or so of “you know, so, and um,” responses for a podcast with The Good Doctor.  (Podcast Link)

I remember when I got a job working for county government.  I thought I had made it.  Finally out of the public spotlight, no longer opening a cash drawer for grumpy cunts and even worse supervisors.  I was starting as a pencil pusher, but I had paid vacation, sick time, retirement accruals and a set schedule.  The work wasn’t challenging so I applied myself in other areas and applied for any promotion I could.  At one point I was on a service call with out IT department and the lady on the phone jokingly asked, “why aren’t you working for us?”

“Because I don’t have the experience.”

Shortly after I got a localized IT position and it was at this point I really thought I had made it.  I had more than doubled my entry pay, I had my own office and a cush ass program.  But the work wasn’t challenging and there wasn’t anywhere else to apply myself without a college degree.  Much like Kanye, I’m a college dropout.

In a rapid fashion I went from being a gung ho to being severely depressed.  I would kick out my work in about 2 hours, then spend the rest of the day reading or sleeping in my desk chair with the door closed.  My soul was being sucked out of my sinuses one second at a time and there was no end in sight.


I set my shortsighted, narrow vision on the glass ceiling and waited for the weight to fall.  The weight of my hopelessness overpowered all that I had done to get to that point.  Keeping my shit afloat in a dead end job as a cashier?  Forgotten.  Starting from a pencil pushing green skin and moving to a prized position?  Couldn’t recall.  Every single step that was struggle to put in front of the last foot was diminished.

I couldn’t get out of my own way.  The glass ceiling and soul sucking job  were the means to an end, not something I could move past, breakthrough, or overcome.  I closed my windows of opportunity and put up the calming reflective foil of a tweakers tint job.

What all of that boils down to is a behavior not unfamiliar to me.

For over 6 months I’ve been a fucking fat acrobat jumping through hoops and I’m doing a bright job of it all.  Sometimes though maaaan.  Sometimes I come close to just losing my shit for a minute.

I took that bro fist for granted.  Had to go check in the other day.  Well Bro Fist PO is now retired and guess what Ro’?  You got someone new.  She’s all nicey nice on the surface, but behind her black eyes, I can tell, she has a mind for self righteous vengeance.  Either that or she likes to show her power.  Either way, she’s tightened the leash, just as I was getting some breathing room.

“It might change once we get to know each other,” she says.

Four months friends.  Four months is all that is left.  But I left in a fume today.

However, I shall not forget all that I’ve done to get to this point.  What is the difference?

When I got out, I would do anything I had to in order to stay on the outs.  Jump without question.  What’s changed?


Adjust the attitude.

Remember the past.

Get out of my own way.


Not a Resolution Post

It’s that time of year, you know, the one where stores get stormed to buy gifts for ungrateful children.  It’s the time to let your hair down, eat and drink a little extra in the name of holiday cheer.  It’s time to reflect on the past year, and it’s ups and downs, rights wrongs, wins and losses, success and failures.  It’s time to make that list of resolutions that will last until mid January, until falling off the end of the Earth.

I’ve never been one to make a list of new year resolutions.  In my world, goals are set at any place and time, as relying on a time of year to bring inspiration denies the spontaneity of inspiration.  As far as reflection, sure, I’ll take a minute to look back at the events of the year and cherish them for a minute.  However, I’m an introspective man so revisiting that stuff is not an extensive process.  Be that as it may, over the entirety of 2013, there was one major theme that keeps rearing it’s head:  self acceptance.

From the beginning, I’ve always been pushed to be a certain way.  Of course, I don’t take kindly to that sort of thing, but it becomes an epidemic when seeking validation of oneself from external sources.  That sort of thing, I believe stems from being the identified patient in a family that cares as best they can.  See, I was always the ‘crazy’ one, stuck in therapy starting in the seventh grade, and continuing late into my teens.  It didn’t help.  I wasn’t honest with the therapists nor myself.  The reason behind that?  I was unable to accept myself during that time.  See, self acceptance isn’t being apathetic to ones place in life and just accepting it.  It’s more about being able accept oneself for all ones faults, talents, dislikes and desires, and keep ones eye on the prize.

One example I can provide from this year is the entire debacle with my former employer.  It was blatantly obvious I was unhappy and stagnate.  I wanted to learn more, and made efforts in my spare time to do so, but opportunities for advancement were given to other people instead of me.  The reasons behind this were, more than likely, personal, as I think my former friend / supervisor / bandmate, didn’t want to be seen as playing favorites.  Instead of accepting the way I felt and the reasons behind it, I decided to get angry and vindictive.  I shut down, stopped talking to him, and others.  I was bummed the fuck out, but channeled that to anger directed both externally and internally.  Then I was terminated and during the period prior to my unemployment being approved, I was really fucking down on myself.  Instead, I faked it, but for a cat like me, so adept at self destruction, that combination is a dangerous one.  Had I focused on self acceptance, acknowledging my depression and tendencies, I think that those 2.5 months would have been a lot more productive.

However, I’m not going to kick my own ass about that because it’s clear to me that I need to accept my actions during that period and move on.  A little while back,  Ace tweeted a link to a cracked article about three types of regret that can destroy you.  He pointed at #2 “Regret for what you didn’t do.”  It seems that “regret for what you did” and “regret for what you didn’t do” run parallel to each other, as one beget’s the other in many instances.  Regret is fine when used a tool to move forward.  I even mentioned it in this comment a while ago.  That said, without self acceptance, it can turn into a weapon of mass self destruction.

Another way I’ve come to recognize this process during the past year has been with people in my life.  To step out of my comfort zone, and try to counteract my introverted nature, I’ve forced myself to try to expand my social circle outside of my close friends.  This entails putting myself out there, dealing with small talk, and all around uncomfortable shit.  What I found is, as I got to know these new folks, I realized we didn’t see eye to eye, on hardly anything.  My first thought was, “what can I do to be more like-able to this dude?” That fleeting thought was quickly replaced by “no fuck that.”  By accepting myself, who I am, my convictions, I knew that this person wasn’t going be on my “best of” list.  I’m doing my shit, why do I need to try to get anyone to like me?  If they don’t, their loss.

It’s always been clear to me that self acceptance is essential to a healthy self, but I don’t think, even now, I’ve realized all of it’s applications.  The one thing that has been burned directly into my brain, is it is a daily practice.  No one will be able to do it for me, but it does help to have supportive friends.  Just like the other day, I was riffing with an old friend of mine, and I was expounding on my frustrations of trying to get other musicians to play my material and ideas the way I think best.  My buddy said “Don’t let that shit bug you, you just keep playing what you think we need to hear.”

He’s goddamn right.

Work Related and the End of a Hiatus

Howdy Y’all.  It’s been a spell since I last chimed in here.  I tweeted that I was shutting down the blog and twitter:

There was a reason for this lockdown, which was removed recently:  I was fired.  My work also discovered my blog the Monday after my termination as my Work Related series was by far the most popular of my posts that week and I had a copious amount of traffic.  Thanks guys!  I had filed for unemployment and locked everything down thinking that they would try to use my writing against me.  I wasn’t too far off base.

I had a phone interview first.  The state worker was inherently hostile towards me and I knew from the get-go that I was to be determined at fault for being fired.  One is eligible for benefits if his or her dismissal is at no fault of there own.  Since I had been fired, I had to participate in a phone interview. This, of course, took over a month to arrange, even though I applied immediately.   The state workers decision arrived mid August, and as I predicted, my application was rejected.  Their reason?  Excess absenteeism.


Promptly filing my appeal, I had to wait until early September for my hearing.  Now here is where the shit starts to show.  My hope, and a reasonable one, is that no one from my former employer will show up due to the money they would be wasting to fight my measly wage.  When reviewing my file, about 5 minutes before my hearing, I was shocked as I read inside the first page that the employer had requested to participate via phone due to “claimant had made physical threats to two employees and former employer has a restraining order against claimant.”  Some judge approved that request.  But it was merely a ploy by my former employer so that their Chief Financial Officer, Chief Information Office, and Chief Executive Officer would not have to leave their desks for a few hours to come take me on.  I was pissed.

*Please note:  I did not threaten anyone nor did I plan some sort of revenge against my former employer.  Also, if I was going to to do something like that, I would not give preemptive warning to the future victims of my wrath.

At any rate, I went on record saying that claim is bullshit, the judge deciding to allow them to participate due to another judge allowing the order.  They tried to prove excessive absenteeism, but there were two tardy days on record in TWO YEARS.  Even though they participated, I felt pretty good about the hearing.  Still I was anxious and fairly depressed, though I couldn’t admit it.

“How you doin Rojo?”

“Oh! I’m fantastic!”


No matter how sure I was that I was in the right, and that my employer was trying to fuck me over, there was still that lingering feeling, that negative self talk saying “Nah Rojo,  you fucked up, this is your fault.”

So late September / early October I found out that the judge reversed the previous decision.  Immediately a weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I was vindicated, to say the least.

Here’s how to tell you are being primed for a discharge from employment:

  • Project information is being withheld from you when it was once readily available.
  • Every little mistake or mishap is scrutinized.  (I worked in IT and shit happens, regularly.)
  • You start getting written up for petty crap.
  • Your supervisor over blows on previous conversations and starts calling them disciplinary meetings.
  • You start getting told you didn’t do something that wasn’t assigned to you.
  • You notice that it seems nothing you do is correct, and slowly it feels like you are being ostracized and a case being built against you.

Listen to your gut.  I knew it was coming, but didn’t act because I wasn’t fucking up my job.   I could tell back in January that I was on the wrong end of the totem pole.  Also, I thought it possible to work with a friend above me. We had talked about it at length prior to my moving for the job, but alas, the power went to his head, he dropped out of our personal pursuits outside of work, and his communication with me became, at best, a sentence a day.  Live and learn my good comrades.  That’s the only way.

I’m back and plan on writing more.   There’s a fair amount of free time on my hands as I have yet to find another job.  Though, at the moment, It’s not my top priority.

You can read more by clicking the “work” category on the right side or clicking here, here, here, and here.

Hello, Don’t be Afraid

Well, what do we know?  Today (well yesterday) is a big dick day.  The kind of day I just want to walk about with my man meat on display for the whole world to see.  Let them all gasp in awe of it’s mighty pulsating tumescence. With my head held high, a bit of swagger in my step and my  penile mastodon bouncing jovially between the tree trunks that are my legs, I am now beginning my second year of this blogging shit.  That’s right, one year ago, I looked in the mirror and decided I needed change (can you spare a quarter?) and that I was going to talk about it some on here.  My actual words, and I’m pretty sure I said them out loud, were “I am so fucking tired of being a fat fuck.”  True goddamn story.

However, this is not a fitness blog.  I know that a year ago, the thought of running a 5k was a terrifying thought, so blog posts on that sort of thing were necessary in documenting my progress.  This past April I ran my third 5k mud run.  This one was called Mud Factor.  Everyone bailed at the last minute, and I ended up running alone.  That was fine, but it’s quite entertaining to watch a buddy fall into a mudpit, so I did miss it.  At any rate, this run was, by far, the most organized and well designed course.  The obstacles were challenging too, not solely due to a back and chest workout I had completed the evening prior.  I found that the height of the obstacles were intimidating.  There were a few 15 foot wooden pyramids to climb with an intimidating gap between inclines.  Climbing on a 2×4, 15 feet above the ground, with shoes caked in slippery mud, is quite a breathtaking experience. Though the feeling of accomplishment was great that morning, I didn’t feel the need for an exclusive post on it.  It just didn’t seem like there was much to report.  I ran, climbed, sweat like a pig, got filthy, gasped for air, over came some minor fears, and had a  metric ass ton of fun.  The end.

I’m continuing to hit the gym on a regular basis.  As an on going experiment, I force myself to go even when I don’t want to.  Even on days when my body and mind are in full agreement that a night of booze would be more fulfilling.  I know that equals a falsehood and it’s always by the end of my first set, that I get that head change I so desperately need.  Even anger directed at my job, or whatever, seems to dissipate and leave my thoughts after a good workout.  Considering that, about a year ago, I stopped taking a cocktail of psychotropic prescription drugs that were given to me to address self deprecating mental habits and thought patterns,  I seem to be doing something right.  I truly believe that my previous DSM IV diagnoses were due to poor diet and a lack of adequate exercise.

One of the things that has aided me in this new direction is an acceptance of myself. Even though I was quite the delinquent in the past, deep down I was a people pleaser.  I could never live up to the expectations of my family or the people around me.  This would eat me up.  It started long long ago as a young kid and lasted into early adulthood.  I still catch myself wondering what another person thinks of me, then I remind myself, that it doesn’t fucking matter.  That’s part of the tragic beauty about this technological age; even by being able to connect to some degree with people through a variety of platforms, one is still essentially alone.  That feeling is multiplied when my time is being spent with someone who I don’t really want to be around, but do subject myself to it, for the sole means of getting off.  It’s much easier to just be alone.


Which brings me to something I realized recently.  I’m not afraid of a relationship, however, I am unwilling to expose my own vulnerabilities and emotions to someone I do not trust, and I do not trust easily.  This seems to be a huge roadblock in the romances I have had this past year.  To me, it feels like each of these girls, even though they didn’t say it verbatim, were on a fast track to trying to tie me down.  A cornered dog is not a friendly encounter.

Thus, for the future, I plan on continuing my road to fitness.  I will continue to make healthy food choices.  Music making, fishing, reading, biking, and skateboarding, will be my go to activities.  I will maintain this blog, and attempt to post more often.  I have a ton of stuff sitting in draft form, but that is my curse.  It’s the follow through that matters, and I get so distracted by the new songs I am writing, shit with work, social life, etc. that I don’t finish a draft, and then all of a sudden, it’s a month later and the material is out of date.  Like my review of the new Die Hard, which I never posted.  Maybe I will.  However, don’t see it.  It’s crap.  At any rate, it sounds like a good focus to follow through and complete my tasks, to break the habit of having multiple unfinished projects going on at the same time.  However,  it’s baby steps that are needed; finish rhythm guitars, refine the drum track to accent the melody hits, review the vocal melody, back up vox for the chorus, add organ, complete the mixing, export it.  Just like going to the gym.

Organization has never been my forte.  That comes with the OCD tendencies of being a music writer.  Something gets lodged between the walls of my skull and that is all I can think about, until the next thing gets stuck there.  I’m not narrow minded, I just have a singular focus and a short attention span.  To remedy that part of my thinking, I have been practicing meditation.  I haven’t talked about that here, but I might in the future, especially if there is some interest in it.  Anyhow, thank you to everyone who has read my stuff over the past year, I look forward to interacting with you all in the future.




Work Related: HR Edition

Really Rojo?  Another rant about HR?  Don’t worry your pretty little heads, I’m not going to go full standard rage here, because what recently happened was a victory in my eyes.  Though I have to admit, it’s really hard not be filled with rage each and every day at my work place.  I watch the inanity of these decision making dunces attempt to make this place more efficient, but it’s the equivalent of a meth’d out tweeker trying to recite prose to a thorn bush.  Actually, it is an ex-tweeker and a workaholic trying to bang out process and work flows.  It gets real ugly real fast.  You can see the eyes of the people who are supposed to be learning from these two glaze over as Corky and Quarto pummel them with every possible tedious detail.  Then the two shittiest teachers on this planet get pissed when people don’t understand.

I’m the opposite of those two. I’ve spent years doing that same fucking work, even though I have no part in it now, and I know that when people need learning in order to do their job, they need to know how, in the most bare bones manner possible.  The folks that have to regurgitate these lessons in the form of a work day, do not get paid nearly enough to give a flying fuck about what these two have to say.  Whenever I trained folks, I gave them the one road to victory in simple terms. I didn’t veer off into unjustified tangents, nor did I scour all possible outcomes that may arise.  Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of the human race, but I believe people will attempt to get their shit done, or ask how to do it if they are unsure, or at least fuck it up trying. They don’t want to lose their job and they surely don’t want to hear some tweek minded asshole walk chaotic patterns during a supposed learning conversation.  I digress…

The saga of our trollic HR manager began about a year ago.  I was the first victim in her reign.  She was fresh out of some school with a degree in Human Resources and looking to exert her authority.  I think she had a masters in HR.   What a useless fucking degree.  At any rate, she arrived, and in no short order, established a cold, condescending aura to all those she supposedly served.  Her efforts in securing an affordable health plan for the workers was an immediate failure.  It didn’t effect me because I have no bastard spawn, or baby momma to take care, and my dog doesn’t need health benefits. However, as a guy who has to deal with everyone at my workplace in some manner, at some point, I heard the numerous complaints rising.  Most stemmed from the ratio of their pay to what they were paying.

Her scorn of the male species was obvious to me.  As I outlined at the end of this post, she could not handle even common interpersonal niceties, even when they were not directed at her.  The essence she tried to instill in the place of my work was a robot like, eyes forward, non questioning automaton driven ethic.That’s where the Californian work place has been going.  She was fresh out of school, having drilled laws into her blubbery jowls, and ready to enforce what she had been taught.  That road is a dark and empty trail that leads to a total lack of humanity.

Her contemptuous behavior not only effected those who were directly addressed in the form of disciplinary action, but also those outside of it’s direct repercussions.  Idiot males I work with started saying shit like, “that’s inappropriate,” “I’m going to go to HR about that,” or “That makes me uncomfortable,” while expounding on other things that would rightly fall into their new moral high ground as not appropriate for work.  If something could be construed as innuendo in any way, one colleague of mine would immediately jump onto that horse, even when it was fully a matter a stating the job.  The same guy in turn came to me whining one day about having to leave early because his eye felt weird underneath his eyelid.  I said to him, “dude, you have pink eye.” To which he squawked, “It’s not pink eye you faggot.”  All this while I am in my office.  How about that for “inappropriate” behavior.  Luckily for him, I am not a vindictive or sensitive manboob, nor do I give a fuck what that guy thinks.  To me he’s a walking goddamn vagina, and should not be working here.

At any rate, a few weeks ago a link went out to all of our staff asking them to fill out a survey on HR’s performance.  I know I am not the only one who filled out the questionnaire honestly, as at minimum the few I trust around here did the same.  A final notice went out to fill out the survey, and that following Friday, HR was no longer part of the company.  That’s right, that troglocunt got the fucking boot.  Though I am not one to typically wish ill will on someone, the amount of elation I felt at the moment was quite intense.  I couldn’t help myself in thinking “what goes around comes around, BITCH,” even though I believe that kharma is established at birth, and that we are just living out of fuckeries of the previous incarnation of our oxygen.  You know, since we’re all oxygen factories and eventually end up in the dirt.

Fuck yeah!  Now to the rape cave!

Fuck yeah! Now to the rape cave!

My belief is that there was enough shitty feedback on that survey that she ended up getting canned.  However, as things go around here, there is a high possibility that none of that actually mattered and it was just a beef between our fearless leader and HR over HR’s struggle for power.  It is my hope that this is the last HR rant I am to write for a while.  It’s really a down right sad subject, but in the typical workingman’s life, it is an ever present force if there is one at said business.  The work related series will continue as desire to write about the bullshit rises, but for now, the troglocunt has bit the dust, and I am hanging up this phone.  Rojo, out.

Work Related: Aesthetics Edition

I was working today. I barely made it to work on time. They have a new system of rounding times so it essentially allows one to clock in 7 minutes prior or ahead of their actual time. It’s a fuck you sort of practice. Clock in 7 minutes early, and 7 minutes late, and you gave these miserly cunts an extra quarter of an hour. The new dietitian calls me. She’s got a gobbler on her neck like a turkey. She likes salads. I talked to her yesterday and mentioned I like to cook. She makes colorful salads. Her salads are not helping her turkey like appearance. I wouldn’t take diet advice from someone looking like that, and I am sure no one would take diet advice from me either if it was the first time they met me.

I remember reading something (I think it was on twitter, you know, because that is where hard truth’s are dispensed. In 140 characters or less,) that talked about HR rep’s discriminating against “attractive” people. The last few hires at my place of employment are borderline troglodyte and AARP members. I mean, really. I don’t need to be fellated at my desk by by the Ghost of Scarlett Johanson’s secretarial past, I wouldn’t be mad at it, but I wouldn’t mind seeing a decent ass walk by, bounce side to side and make it’s way somewhere. It does’t have to sit on my face, or do any other sort of thing, I just want something nice to look at. Instead we’re left with the 6 last hires, who are all the kryptonite of boners. Except for the lizard who really isn’t a nurse, but is called a nurse. She’s could be kryptonite to boners, if you listened to what she says, but I have an impeccable noise filter. Huh? She was probably pretty darn good looking before she progressed to where she is today. I want to pull her hair. She’s older but I’m a dog and dogs don’t give a shit most of the time. NO fatties. I want to be the fattest in the bedroom. At any rate, she has skin like a leather jacket left out in the summer sun for days on end and a voice like a fairy on a helium bender. She’s pretty crunchy as well.

Crunchy: A term to identify levels of commitment to bullshit such as only shopping at the co-op, buying organic, most of the time vegetarian, really fucking inspired by eastern religion, wearing flowing pants. Pants like the pastel river of Ganges,  Mutherfucking hemposity in a blouse. More than likely or possibly owning some sort of soap made out of patchouli. Rides a bike EVERYWHERE, Loves the fuck out of Quinoa*. This term came into use to break up the dichotomies from patchouli-funk hippie to psuedo stoner hippie, etc. Full granola, to stale crunch.

Lookin’ Pretty Crunchy

Anyway, chick is crunchy. She’s not full granola, but she’s got some crunch. She’s not my former somewhat sometimes stinky, armpit hair having, LGBT advocating, super lesbian office mate crunchy, but she’s got some crunch. She’s got small lips too. You know, like pencil thin lines of lips. Lips not made for kissing. You want giant flesh pillows of lips to kiss on. It’s a projection though, I don’t have full lips either, though I fancy myself an astute kisser. Not ass kisser, I just mean those little things you do to get those panties off quicker without having to take them off yourself. In any event, I would like our crunchy nurse to fellate me in my office or hers, or whatever. I’m ok with that.

The last 6 hires here have been overweight to obese, old, or a combination of both. In fact, since this new cunt HR manager came on the job, all our hires have been full trog. Not a single attractive person, both male or female have been hired. We’re becoming a place where ugly people come to work. Fucking jumping jackflash jesus, I am an ugly person working at the place for ugly persons to work. Nah fuck that, I have pizazz. Actually, I don’t but I’m witty as a cancer cell and I’ll help you smoke your cigs to get there. HR hates pretty things. She’s a ghetto bitch too. Her life consists of some pathetic fucking male, who I assume never fucks her and if he does, his half erect phallus spews it’s dry cough of a money load on her belly rolls approximately two times a month, two pitbulls and three cats. I actually assumed she has cats because I bet she gets some sad satisfaction being a fucking GIGANTIC rodent and ruling over cats. I’m not talking ROUS’. I’m talking full blown, that one super fat rat from Cinderella with a sex change and a whole lot of greasy fries.  A guy here got written up for sexual harassment by this HR cunt for telling a co-worker/friend of his that her eyes look pretty today. This guy had no sexual intent. The compliment receiver knew it, he knew it, but HR troglocunt heard him say it and now it’s on his permanent employment record. The chick he said it to didn’t even file the complaint.

*Please note, bike riding is a fun and invigorating practice.  I love riding a bike, I also dig on Quinoa, however, I do not feel the need to plug that into every conversation I have.  Just saying.

Work Related: The All Staff Infection

Last month when reliving my experience with false rape accusations, I mentioned I would be coming out with a work rant in the near future.  I, of course, did want to keep all of you waiting. So, without further ado, in the first in what will probably become a series, I present, a the day of the all staff and a few other insights.

At the beginning of each month everyone at my place of employment congregates together for a wasted three hours of sitting and trying to stay awake.   Of course I had to drink half a fifth of Wild Turkey 101 the night before so I am especially longing for some covers and a pillow, but the complimentary coffee has to suffice my fatigue.  It’s the epitome of inefficiency. A pathetic and ineffective way to give “trainings, “team building” and to drop some vague knowledge about the future of our programs.  I don’t work for a huge corporation.  We only have around 56 employees.  We can all fit in a room suitable for a rest-home eating area, which sometimes has a smell similar to a moth ball filled room, except for the smell is sage.  We burn it for it’s spiritual properties.

Spare anything green bro?

This meeting is crap, if you haven’t already gotten that picture.  This week we learned about bed bugs and scabies.  The last time I remember even thinking about those critters was when I had just gotten out of jail after a short 40 day stint.  I was itchy for some reason and my brain on overdrive decided it was scabies so I covered myself in that soap that kills that shit, froze my clothes, and sauntered to my then girlfriends place.  She started working her sexy Greek mojo, but after licking my neck and tasting the toxic bug killing shit, she decided to just blow me.  That’s love, a kneeling blow job to your previously incarcerated boyfriend who is covered in scabies destroying lotion immediately after his release from county jail.  It didn’t last.

I got hired at this joint due to having around five years of experience in two fields that are the backbone and funding of this joint.  I was hired by my “friend.”  He’s not really my friend, he’s afraid of human resources and a pussy whooped monogamist* who would rather be an old man than grapple with some living.  In fact, we USED to play some music together. When I mentioned something about us playing he mentioned his busy schedule and his maintenance of his relationship.  It’s like when a chick wants to fuck you, she will make sure it happens.  If a dude wants to make some shit happen, like playing in a fucking band, he will make it happen, not make bullshit excuses.  Ugh, I digress again.

Instead of having me work in an area that I have a ton of experience in, my “friend” decided to have me focus on an area that I only scratched the surface of prior to my arrival in this here city.  It’s a position I have to push myself to learn about, but gives me no advances in my workplace and it’s fairly useless due to our outdated technology.  The times I questioned my lack of involvement in the areas of our business that I have tangible skills and experience, homeboy said, “it would take years to train you up, so I just gave the position to Corky because he knows some of it already.”  My boy (We’ll call him Quarto) was here a year prior to my arrival.  Years my fucking asshole.  Our CEO announces how much farther ahead of the other window licking retard clinics in our field we are, technologically speaking,  and the reason for such advances is Quarto and his diligence.  Congrats bro, glad I jumped on this shit-liner with you.**

The host of this round tabled snooze fest is an obese human resources chick.  Her mouse-like features, squinting eyes, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel carting acorns in it’s mouth back to a winter hibernation zone, jiggles in front of the half aware crowd un-enthusiastically recalling some bullshit she’s supposed to explain.  She rattles through our new hires, even the ones that don’t start until next month.  Lay offs have occurred, but we are still hiring.

Each month there is an award given to an employee, by popular vote, designating them as “Employee of the Month.”  This vote is done by printing out a nomination form and dropping it into a locked metal box.  The award is usually given to a person in one of our three main departments, but mostly our Medical or Dental department.  This is because they all confer and decide who should get the award next.  You cannot win the award twice in a year.  The benefits of said title are a dedicated parking spot, a frame-able certificate, and a paid day off.  That day off is the creamy white frosting on the inside of this here scam.

I have never won this shamble of a popularity contest.  The reasons behind my lack of success are unknown to me, but having been here quite a while, I decided to take action into my own hands the day the opportunity knocked.  Since I am reasonably liked around these parts, when a young female employee approached me to do something for her that wasn’t work related, I agreed, but only on my terms.  She was to get her department (the largest here) to vote for me in the EotM.  She did, dropped 17 votes in the box.  I confirmed her submissions as she had shown them to me.  Come time for the great reveal, the  prestigious title went to someone connected with Medical.  There aren’t enough employees in those parts to surpass my vote count, but I think I lost in the electoral college, meaning, that fucking mouse faced obese cunt who runs HR.

HR on Lunch Break.

Never trust a fat person, and never trust a fat person with a face like a chunky rat.

I rigged this goddamn election and lost. I will never be a dictator.

Anyhow, to top off this monstrosity of inefficiency, a retirement guru gets up in front of us to sell us his investment strategies and suggest we start saving for our future.  Save for your future people, I do not disagree with this.  However, dude gave shitty advice and was just selling his company, which is pretty much what every third party who gives presentations at these meetings does and I hate solicitors, especially those who knock on my door at home, or bug me at work.  Man I sound like a jaded motherfucker.

*I have nothing against monogamy.  However the dependency I witness in some people is baffling.  Grown ass men who cannot handle being alone for more than a week.  And by be alone, I mean, not be in a committed relationship.

**I know you’re thinking, well get a different job you whiny cunt.  I think the same thing, however the job market is tighter than a virgin asshole right now and there’s nothing available in my field around here that is better than my current gig.  Thus, I am looking into alternative forms of employment.  Also, I am damn grateful to have a job that affords me a comfortable living, where I can sleep in a warm bed, feed myself and my dog, and go fishing.  It’s fucking sturgeon season right now so I’m dinosaur hunting.

So tasty. So elusive.