Another day another job

    Yes oh yes... yet another job has gone and passed me by. Since the last time I talked to you, I had been laid off from that awful job in which I starred at blank gray walls and talked about paper dimensions all day long, thank God. I was on unemployment for five or six months just trying to find SOMETHING... ANYTHING worth my time. And then it happened.

    I stumbled upon an posting on Craig's List vaguely describing some kind of job in which I would be managing people and that no previous managerial experience was necessary. Sounded great to me. I said to myself "self, this could be a chance to actually start a career, save some money, and actually start a life." And the way the interview went and everything that went along with it, it sure sounded like it.

  Did I mention I hate misleading people? Well... I got hired on the spot, which should have raised a red flag, as a manager in training. Company policy stated I would be training on the procedures and proper ways of doing things before I got my own place for 4-6 months. In all actuality, it was a week and a half. I was thrown to the sharks not knowing how to do ANYTHING.

   The job required me to do a lot of things. A lot of manual labor things such as stripping and waxing floors, buffing floors, and basically being a janitor in some old folks homes. All of these things would be fine if it were not for a few factors.

1) I have no previous experience in any of those things- Now come on Greg. Being a janitor is not rocket science. And this was not hard. I basically bleached everything in sight. But I had never ever waxed a floor. They showed me once then sent me on my way. Fuck that.

2) The travel- In my short period of time working with this company I was sent to almost ten different old folks homes anywhere from Latrobe to Munhall. Thats literally a 50 mile radius. I was not given compensation for mileage. Fuck that.

3)The hours- I was told from the beginning I would be working some nights. It just made sense being that there are some places that cant be taken care of during the day. My third week on the job I was sent out after working 9 hours to a home to wax a dining room. The equipment they gave me did not work and I had to do EVERYTHING by hand. A two hour job turned into a six hour job, turning my 9-11 hour day into a 15 hour day. Worst day ever. I was working with a few other managers at the time whom were doing another room. They told me to get used to this. The one guy had not had a day off in three months. Fuck that. I need a life.

4) The pay- Yes, I know I said the pay was nice before. 32k salary is awesome... if you don't work 55-60 hours a week. My girlfriend and I figured it out. If I worked an average of 50 hours a week and traveled like I was at the time, I would be making anywhere from $8 an hour or sometimes less than minimum wage. Fuck that.

5) The uniform- Or lack there of. A job where I am literally scrubbing shit off the floor should require someone to wear nursing scrubs or something like that. Hell, even khakis and a polo would be nice. But you would not even believe what I had to wear to this job. Keep in mind, I am essentially a glorified janitor. I do everything a janitor does and then some. This is seriously how I had to dress everyday.

Don't mind the whiskey in my hand, even though that would have made the job MUCH better. This is a picture of me 40 pounds ago and at a wedding, but this is basically what I had to wear to work everyday. I chose to wear suspenders because it was easier to keep my pants up after rolling around on the ground, which I regularly did... in these clothes. I also sometimes wore a tie clip so it didn't drop in the toxic chemicals I had to scrub toxic waste and turds up with... in these clothes. I also often rolled my sleeves up because it was easier getting gloves on and off with, you know, being that I HAD TO CLEAN UP SHIT.... IN THESE FUCKING CLOTHES. Oh, I also did not wear dress shoes. I wore black boots because I was slapping toxic chemicals on floors to eat away the wax. I would also roll up my pants on a regular basis because I didn't want to ruin them. Floor stripper is just like bleach. One little splash and they are ruined. So I mean, doing all of those things... IN THESE CLOTHES... made complete sense. Fuck that. 

After taking a long hard look at how outrageously twisted this job was, I couldn't take it any longer. At this point in my life, with the debt I have, and seeing everyone in the same situation, I made a conscious decision. Money is not everything. Yes I need money, but why work jobs I am going to loathe for a couple more dollars per hour? So I started looking again. 

   I got an interview days alter after making this decision. If I got the job, I would be making less money, per 40 hours, if I would have stayed at that job. But every time I walked into this place everyone was literally happy. Everyone I talked to actually enjoyed their job. I have never experienced that. That is what I need at this point in my life. I slammed the interview and I start there in a few days and I am really looking forward to it. 

But this is what I would like to say to my former employer. Fuck you for being so misleading. I hated every single second I worked for you. Nothing was enjoyable about anything you did be it waking up at 5am everyday to traveling to fucking Muhall on a regular basis. Screw you and I hope you make the next gullible man or woman happy in their glorified janitor position. Here is a suggestion, why not dress them up in purple furs and call them king or queen. You know, they have to clean toilets anyways. Get it? Throne? I mean seriously people, the administrators of  every single fucking building were not even dressed as nice as I was. Not even exaggerating. At any given time and in any given building, I was the nicest dressed person. And there were hundreds of people in the building more important than I was. It made no sense whatsoever. Fuck that. Hopefully this makes me a happier person in the long run.

Hey... you live and you learn. Am I right?

Why I May Hate You

There are a plethora of reasons why I hate some people.  If you have always wondered if you could ever talk to, hang out, or be friends with the cool guy writing this blog, you must ask yourselves these tough questions….

1)         Am I an idiot?

If you are a complete and utter imbecile, then I want nothing to do with you. For example, if you have to use a calculator to take 10% off of something, if you go out and drink heavily two or more times a week and complain about gaining weight, or if you think wrestling is “fake”, then you are a grade a, prime real estate idiot. 

2)         Do I drive the speed limit?

If you drive under or at the speed limit, forget about it. I am ALWAYS in a hurry. 

3)         Am I a fan of really bad actors/ actresses like Rachel Mcadams and Nick Cage?

If you are then you are probably in a world of trouble when trying to talk about one of my favorite past times on this earth…Film. 

4)         Do I listen to really bad music such as the black keys or kasabian?

Those bands are so bad I purposely didn’t capitalize them. Fuck em. I got in a debate with my friend Brad about one of those bands just last night. If you were to meet a caveman and you had to explain rock and roll to them in its simplest form, you would choose to play the black keys. It is literally the most generic rock music that has ever been made and it sucks. That isn't even opinion. Have you actually listened to it? Every song sounds like every rock song ever. I have honestly mixed them up for The White Stripes on multiple occasions. 

5)         Do I own a blue Penguin jersey?

Now this one is tricky. I have multiple friends who I bash for wearing one Trust me. One of the coolest things about our city is the fact that we are the only city where ALL of our sport franchises are the same color. Therefor… I don’t want to see baby blue on my hockey team. Sorry.

6)         Do I laugh at rude comments?

Sorry bro, if you don’t laugh at rude comments made at other people as well as at you, you better forget about it. We will not get along and I hate you. Humor is the spice of life. Get over yourself.

7)         Do I make good first impressions?

I will be the first to admit it, I make judgments on people on first impressions. That first impressions could even be you walking into a room goofily. I USUALLY have a good sense on this too. I can count on one hand the times I have been wrong. Usually if you barge into a room and are loud, obnoxious, and annoying, that is how you will be most of the time. That’s my shtick. Not yours.

8)         Do I think Lil’ Wayne is attractive?

This goes for you ladies out there. If you want to be my friend, you better not think this man is attractive. He literally looks like a full grown rat, his voice sounds like a squeeze box/goose, and he always looks dirty. Literally not one thing about those things screams sex. Quit using your green shades.

9)         Am I “addicted” to something?

No such thing people. It is all a mind game. Anyone can quit anything… ever.

10)      Am I a meat head?

Feels like I have talked about some of these things before but… I don’t like people who are full of themselves. Especially ones who work out. I don’t like people who scream and grunt in the gym. It is unnecessary and, in my mind, juvenile. Also, if you are going to wear that toothpick of a shirt you might as well not even wear one. I know I wouldn’t want to see that but for Christ sake what’s the point? Sleeveless? More like ¾ clothless. Either you went crazy with the sheers on those sleeves or you meant to do that. Either way I hate you. Continue listening to Linkin Park and Eminem on those GIGANTIC earphone of yours because, to be honest, I want to have absolutely nothing in common with you.

11)      Do I smell funny?

This has absolutely nothing to do with a judge of character. Really it doesn’t. But if you do not have enough pride to take a bath, wash your clothes, or wear deodorant, then I have no respect for you.

12)      Do I just bite string cheese or do I actually string it?

If you bite into string cheese, you should be slapped in the mouth.

13)      Do I chew with my mouth open?

Grotesque.

14)      Do I use a blu tooth?

You might as well be wearing a fanny pack, zooba pants, and a tucked in polo shirt because only men over the age of 40 think they are cool. They look so cheesy it hurts. Honestly, it feels as though it is something that should have come out in the 1980s. Its outlandish.

15)      Am I a front runner?

There are people in this world who only like winners. Those people are dicks. I went to college with someone who literally would change his favorite team monthly based on how well they were doing. I am not even joking. The LA Lakers would be doing well and you would see him walk down the hall wearing a Lakers hat. The next month they would be losing a few games and the Spurs would be winging, he would walk out in a Spurs hat. When confronting him about why he did not cheer for the Lakers any longer, this would be his response… every single time for every single team for every single sport… “ oh, they are butt, man.” Gag me.

16)      Do I use the “Exit” doors to enter a building?

One of my biggest pet peeves. Not even close. I literally say things to people who do it.

17)      Do I play a guitar at parties?

Need I say more? After teenage girls move past the age of 14, not one person thinks this is acceptable.

18)      Do I have a sticker of a child peeing on something in the back window of my car or truck?

Nothing screams hateable like these redneck pieces of trash. It is usually some fucking kid pissing on a Ford logo or something idiotic like that. You also see a Baltimore Ravens logo around here as well. Fucking stupid. It is almost as bad as an Outer banks sticker or a baby on board sign. It makes me want to aim for your car if I am in an accident.

19)      Do I think beards are dirty?

This is a widely thought of fact… oh wait it isn’t a fucking fact. I have talked about this before too. I would honestly contend that my beard is cleaner then my hair. And so would most people who have one.

20)      Am I a member of society?

Not even joking, I would say 85-90% of people have some sort of hateable quality about them that I could pick out. I might even be low on that. But it is about  learning how to deal with those things and finding the good things about them, i.e the blue Penguins jersey.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate EVERYONE. I just hate MOST people. If you read my blog, though, I love you. So… From this manacing Easter Bunny and myself... Happy Easter everyone!



TLC

I am going to say what everyone else is thinking... TLC needs to change the name of their station. No, check that that, they HAVE to. There is not one minute of programming on that station that is teaching me or anyone anything. No, actually, check that one too. I have learned a lot of things from watching current programming on "The Learning Channel". I have learned…

1) That Duggar woman is apparently a sex addict that is covering up by being a Mormon or something.

     1a) These sink holes popping up everywhere on earth is not, in fact, aliens coming to our surface like I would like to think. But it is, in fact, this woman’s vagina. 

2) The Gypsy existence is one of glamorous lifestyles and very creepy people, marriages, and  situations.

     2a) If you literally watch just one episode of this show, your brain will hurt. It is also one entire hour you will never get back on this earth. Do something more productive, like watching cars go down the street. 

 

3) People are obsessed with weddings so much that they are willing to put their lives out there for the public to see… in all of their dickishness. 

4) There is a trailer park that apparently looks like a theme park and is filled with stereotypical hillbillies that was, obviously and insultingly, not staged to make a “reality” show. 

 

5) There is a man who makes extravagant cakes but is so dumb he can’t pronounce ingredients and tools of his trade correctly.

 

6) There are people who use a massive amount of coupons on useless shit. They live off of a room stock full of laundry detergent, toothbrushes, Gatorade, and ramen noodles.

     6a) But this is alright because they save a ton of money on items they don’t need.

     6b) You can become extremely overweight by eating only ramen noodles and Gatorade. 

 

7) There is a family of tiny people, who have a couple of normal sized kids (strange), who apparently have endless amounts of money to do whatever the hell they want.

7a) Is there some sort of government bill that gives people under 4 feet tall money for their unfortunate stature? I tend to think so. 

 

8) There is a sassy woman from New Jersey who can talk to dead people… forever cementing peoples love for residents of that state for some reason. 

 

9) Grotesque mothers who need to live their lost childhoods through their children like to dress up their daughters like ladies of the night while spraying them in black face. 

 

10) People like to have sex in strange ways… which is not something I really want to see or hear about. Normal sex is fine with me. 

 

11) People are addicted to drugs and are complete fucking losers.

 

12) People are addicted to really weird shit too, which is absolutely hilarious. I mean, a woman was literally eating the dry wall on her house. A man was IN LOVE WITH HIS CAR!  

 

13) People like to take things and just throw them in the corner of the room. It could be anything. A countless number of two liter pop bottles for example. Or how about just junk from yard sales because they are saving them for a future “project”. All I know is I can’t watch this show. It makes me sick to my stomach.

13a) This has further bolstered my self diagnosed ocd tendencies.

 

14) There is a woman who looks like Krang from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles who has a child who competes in some sort of contest.  

     14a) These people are speaking some sort of language that, apparently, my ears can’t process. I literally can’t understand a word they say.

     14b) There is absolutely no reason anyone should know who these people are.

15) Reality shows are the complete opposite. Game shows are more reality then this crap.

God I hate this channel.  



Huh?

When I was on my way to look at the sports section, as I always do, I came across this little gem.

What this picture has anything to do with autistic children suffering is beyond me. I see a woman who forgot to brush her hair choking a woman who forgot to stop eating. I also see that girl from the Blair Witch project just kind of standing there with her back to the action... very awkwardly. To me, this is a hilarious picture. One in which I cant help but wonder why the photographer was there, that close, in the first place. So funny. Poor autistic kids.

Morning

I complain about a lot of things, this much is true. But to be quite honest, there are not many things that actually make me angry. Now I mean angry angry… like steaming red hot angry. Not the little piss pants you took the last of the nachos angry. I mean yeah, I bitch and moan, but rarely am I ever angry. Trust me, if I am, you will know it. But I will tell you what, nothing makes me angrier in this entire God forsaken world then waking up in the morning. 

This is not a recent thing either. I remember, vividly, when I was a child I used to throw punches at my mother when she tried to wake me for school. And I am not even exaggerating. I mean literal punches. She used to sing these songs in the morning that used to get under my skin so much that I risked physical harm on my own flesh and blood. That’s pretty screwed up now looking back on it.  She used to sing this song with lyrics that go…

“Good morning, good morning!
You slept the whole night through.
Good morning, good morning, to you!”

 She used to always sing this song about GI Joe that I don’t quite remember as well. But I mean every single day. I love my mother more than anything on this earth, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t care if you are the most beautiful woman on the earth… if you get in my face when I am just waking up it is going to be ugly. Speaking of, there is this woman at work in the mornings who INSISTS on getting in my face every day to tell me good morning. At this point I actually grunt at her like a caveman. That is how much I care. But this woman is nuts. It isn’t even just that. You walk past her in the hallway and it is like she HAS to make some sort of goofy noise at you. Yesterday I got quaked at like a duck… not even joking. I used to make some sort of goofy laugh trying to look like I was interested, but one can only get mooed at so many times. I simply ignore her now. She probably thinks I am a giant asshole… Oh wait I am. But I digress. 

It isn’t even just the whole getting up thing. Once you get up what are you supposed to do? Nothing is on in the morning besides Sports Center and Boy Meets World. I mean who the hell wants to watch Good Morning America… those cheerful fucks annoy the piss out of me. You know why they are that cheerful? I guarantee they have been up for, like, five freaking hours trying to brace themselves for whatever they have to do for that damn show. I guarantee they are like zombies when they wake up too. Not one person on this earth likes waking up in the morning.

 There is one single saving grace about mornings… breakfast. I can’t name one breakfast food that isn’t delicious. Not one signal item. Even the grossest of all, scrapple, is even delectable. If I were on death row and I was asked what meal I wanted as my last meal, if they could not get me a Mineos pizza from Squirrel Hill, I would ask for an assortment of delicious breakfast meats. Not even kidding. Sausage is delicious. Bacon is memorable. Ham is savory. Literally… you name anything in breakfast and my mouth waters. Pancakes? Turn on the waterworks. Eggs? Don’t even get me started. Bagels? Forget it.

But anyways... I hate mornings. I thought I would mention that.

Dude

It has been a while my friends. To be honest, most of my time has been spent either with my family, including my girlfriend, working out, or trying to find another God damned job. Once again I cant reiterate how hard it is to find a fucking job. Let me say this again… I HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE YOU IMBECILES! I DO NOT WANT PAID $50 AN HOUR BECAUSE OF IT. I JUST WANT A JOB THAT PAYS MORE THAN $11 PER HOUR AND, PREFERABLY, ONE I ACTUALLY ENJOY. Now, in the wise words of the one and only Christ Tucker, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH? I have lost nearly 100 pounds, something people have struggled with for decades and decades, but I can’t find a damn job. I know some people, including my good friend Jared who have literally had 3 or 4 really nice full time jobs already. I consult him for help, even having him edit my resume, and you think it helped? Absolutely not. I can’t get a damn interview let alone land the big one. But, here I go… complaining about something that I APPARENTLY can’t control for, I don’t know, the 175^th time?

But like I always say, obladi oblada.

And as my continuing saga at this current job goes on more outlandishly, I have yet another story to tell. You remember about a year ago, I told a story about how we go yelled at for “horsing around”. I still have no idea what that means or how that phrase even came about. Then I got called into the office about 10 months ago for “being too relaxed”… whatever the hell that also means. How can someone be too relaxed? But this time it is much different. Over the past year, I have formed relationships with the people I talk to over the phone every single day, aka my customer base. With that said, I usually talk to them like I would my friends and family. I am very relaxed with them, as you know, and I can basically say whatever I want to them… or so I thought.

At this point you probably think I left an f bomb drop or even said a rude comment about their mother on the phone. But no… I did something much much worse. Think of literally the worst possible thing that could ever be said to a customer and then gasp. Because that is what was said. I am not exactly sure how or when it happened but APPARENTLY I said the word “Dude” on the telephone. ALERT THE PRESSES! CALL THE NATIONAL GUARD IN! How dare I say that God awful word. It is almost as bad as saying Vold…. I mean he who shall not be named. Blasphemy!

Not only do I not understand how any person could be offended by this word, I know for a fact that I would have never said it to someone who did not have a penis. I would never EVER say that to a woman, besides my girlfriend joking around of course. So it had to be an actual dude whom I said it to. With that in mind, I only talk to one “dude” on an frequent basis… and I am not really sure why that “dude” would be offended. He is on my level.

So why exactly is it so offensive? Besides the simple fact that it really isn’t, of course, there are many things to take into consideration here. For example… Bill and Ted were just two cool cats who wanted to pass a history test. Were they terrible people because they said “dude” every other word or so? I don’t think so. In fact, they were the epitome of cool for a while. 

You know what, this is stupid… There is literally not one thing offensive about the word “dude”. Literally, not one thing. I can’t even make shit up for it to be offensive. Now what IS offensive is when you get reprimanded for forming relationships with your customers. Although I really don’t agree with it, they say “customer service” creates new and repeat customers. That is bull… you know what creates new and repeat customers? A good product at a cheap price. If I call my favorite pizza place for a pie and they cuss me out left and right, call me a fatty for ordering a large for myself, and then make a comment about my mother, I don’t give a damn. The pizza is delicious and a good price for what you receive. If I call pizza hut and they have phone sex with me, I don’t give two shits because their pizza tastes like balls… with pepperoni. I am doing everything short of cupping these peoples balls and they are offended by the word “dude? Oi vey people… grow a spine.

I forgot to mention what their exact quote was about me saying the word “dude” to my customer. They stated “what, do you work at Billabong?” I actually laughed out loud at that statement and how outrageously absurd it was. So if I am doing my math right here, my coworkers now view me as a really relaxed surfer who works at Billabong and likes to play limbo in chairs on their free time. Now that is the definition of “dude” if I have ever heard one. Thanks bra. That is a touching view of my appearance and demeanor. Because to be honest, I look more like a neo nazi than a freaking hippie. So I guess I should be grateful they think I am a stoner.

Stolen

I don't understand people. Plain and simple. What compels them to steal things off of other peoples desk at a work place? I mean honestly. I have had multiple things stolen off of my desk, all of which perplex me even more than the last. Here are some of the things that have been stolen off of my desk in the past few months. And don't give me the "how do you know it was stolen and not misplaced" crap. I am obsessive about where I put things on my desk so I know.

1) A dollar bill- Of all of the things on my list, this is the only one I could possibly even justify. Maybe they were broke and wanted a snack. Maybe they just saw an opportunity to grab a loose dollar... even though it really wasn't loose. I mean, we all have chased down a rampant dollar bill being blown down the street before, right? But even though I may understand this one, it still doesn't make me less pissed off that someone took money off of my desk. I mean honestly, is there someone just kind of sneaking around perusing each desk for goodies? Fuck em'.

2)Pens- The writing utensil not the hockey team of course... this one I will NEVER understand. Not only are you given about 15 when you start, but you can walk about 15 feet down the hallway and ask for 15 new ones if you would like. Instead, people will take your own personal, half used, germ infested pens to use for their own personal use. I mean, I don't know about you, but I chew on pens subconsciously for God sake. And now you are writing with it? Be my guest.



3)White out- Now this shit is like gold. I get at least one of these a week vandalized off of my desk. It is outlandish. Who the hell needs all of this white out? Who is making that many mistakes that they have to take multiple white out rollers and use them? What the fuck are you doing with them, thief? My personal opinion and what I would like to think is happening is that they are painting their walls... line, by line, by line, by line...you freaking asshat.

4) Calculator- Yes... someone has actually stolen my cheap ass Canon desktop calculator. Why? I have not one fucking clue. To give to their kid to have fun with? To do simple arithmetic, maybe? Or how about because people are insane. That gets my vote.

5) Tape Dispenser-  I remember this one quite vividly. It was right around Christmas time. I remember reaching for my dispenser to tape my drawer shut... because we have desks made of imitation sheet metal and wont stay together...  and I could not find my tape. After looking literally everywhere I am confused as all hell. Someone stealing my dispenser was so far in the back of my mind because I honestly didn't think that would ever happen in the history of mankind. I mean, on a list of things to steal a tape dispenser may rank between a clump of grass and some sand art from the county fair. But then I thought to myself... Well maybe they will return it. I mean, it was almost Christmas. People need to wrap presents.

6) My Water Bottle- I saved this one for last because not only is it the grossest, but it has happened multiple times. What the fuck do these people think it is? That monkey statue from Raiders of the Lost Arc? It is a damn water bottle that not only I use for about two to three weeks, but isn't even nice. It's literally an Aquafina bottle that I replace after a while because water starts to taste stagnant in it. But yet, even though I hide it behind my computer clearly making it not garbage, it gets stolen... three times. I can't even register why this would even happen. It makes no logical sense.

Insane people apparently love "free" shit no matter what it is. Someone should tell them there are free rocks outside all over the place. They may have a conniption.

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned For Sega

Listen my friends... I have thought long and hard about this over many years and I finally think I should say something about it. In wake of all of these random mass killings, I am tired of all of these so called "experts" blaming it on shit they have no idea about. You see, if you have an eighty year old fucking man, or woman (God forbid I am not politically correct), from congress explaining why they think these nut jobs are shooting up movie theaters, malls, and schools, then you are listening to the wrong people. These geriatric pieces of trash who have absolutely no grasp on what society is really like these days are trying to wrap their shriveling little brains around the complexities of the modern day psycho, and they have absolutely no qualifications to do so. You people are not psychiatrists and are waaaaaay too old to become one.

It has always been my theory that these imbeciles see something like this happen and then blame it on something that they have no knowledge on whatsoever.When Columbine happened in in 1999, I was 13 years old... and yet I still knew it was complete and utter bullshit when all of these high powered people were blaming it on video games and the music industry. For God sake, I have been watching horror films, listening to whatever music I want, and have been playing video games of every kind ever since the inception of the NES, and you don't see me going on a rampage. You don't see me jumping on peoples heads because of Mario, do you? I don't kick turtle shells at people. I don't shoot fire at people.

 You don't see me punching people in the belly button...

I mean come on... let's think this through a little bit. Do you really think that playing video games makes people violent? All it really does is makes them dumber and blind. I mean, if I weren't already half blind and wearing glasses, I may be a little pissed off at the fact that my video game playing is making me lose my sight. But, that is your own personal choice. You can't take that shit out on people.

What I do think is this. I think that it comes down to terrible parenting and the people that they surrounded themselves with. Look at the people who commit crimes. Mostly all of them are dicks, have dick/re-re parents, and hang around with jack off friends. Bad eggs create bad eggs... video games don't create bad eggs. If parents or a parent do a shitty job of taking care of their children, teach them nothing, and treat them like dirty laundry then yes, your children may grow up and shoot up a shopping center. If your friends commit crimes... steal, rape, vandalize... then yes you are going to be tempted into doing those sort of things. IT IS COMMON FUCKING SENSE. Sure, I was thrown into some situations in my life where I could have made a bad decision, be it drugs or even committing a crime. But I didn't do it. You know why? My parents fucking rock and raised me correctly. Because I hang out with awesome people who don't do that shit. That's why. And I play those same damn video games these killers are playing too. So don't give me that shit either. I play Call of Duty, and not once have I had the urge to grab my fathers gun and go to the elementary school. Not once.

Now for the real kicker. If these people in power keep blaming these murders on video games then I may even go to congress myself and give them a piece of my mind. By me saying that does not mean I am going to take a gun either... BECAUSE I AM NOT INSANE. Did I mention I play video games? The reason it makes me so upset is because it seems like these people are misinformed. I looked up these numbers today and was actually very interested in what I found.  If I were to ask you how many people in the United States Congress, be it Senate of House, were in their 30's, would you be able to tell me? Go ahead take a guess...

14

That is right. 14 out of 415, or 3% of YOUR congress is in their 30's. Most of those people are about to turn 40 too. This age group were the only ones who even knew what video games were growing up. My brother is their age for Christ sake. I will break down the rest of the age groups now...

40's- 62, or 15%

50's- 136 or 33%

60's- 145 or 35%

70's- 46 or 11%

80's- 12 or 3%

I would honestly say that 15-20% of those people are so old they have no idea where they are let alone worry about anything but watching Murder She Wrote all day. I mean Jesus... Do you really even think most of those people have even PLAYED a video game? No. They just say this shit because someone tells them to and they need something or someone to blame. They need to just fess up to the fact that these people that do these things are just out of their damn minds. Plain and simple.

So what can we do to stop these killings? Well, what can we do to stop people from being out of their gourds? Nothing. Gun control will do absolutely nothing but make people angry, in my opinion. There is nothing you can do about any of this, no matter what anyone says. The fact of the matter is this... Video games do not make people violent, or crazy, or any other damn adjective you can think of. It is a form of entertainment that, yes, some crazy people take part in. They also probably eat vegetables. Does broccoli bring out the dark side in people? I think we should waste tax dollars on that next.



New Year

Yesterday was that one day, that one fateful day in which idiotic people can dwell on their past years and promise themselves change. That is all well and good, but let's be serious here... how many people do you know, besides myself of course, who actually sticks with their resolution? I can maybe count on one hand. One of them is my father, who outlandishly exclaims that he has successfully completed a full year of his resolution every year around this time. What is this amazing feat you ask? It is the same every year... not to make a resolution. *rolls eyes*

Myself, I really did not make a resolution this year. My girlfriend thinks they a pointless so I kind of took on the same mentality being that I couldn't really pinpoint one I really wanted to do. The past two years I have done the same one successfully, lose weight. I have lost 80 pounds over the past year and a half-ish, and am painfully close to my next goal of 185. I don't know if I am stopping there until I get there because I do not know if I will be "happy" with the results at that time. Of course, I also have to deal with all of these idiotic people who join the gym and pack the damn thing for two miserable months. I HATE those people.You know, those people who are actually "trying" to make an effort at their resolution but in reality are just sitting on a bike going so indescribably slow that they look even more lazy than if they just stayed at home and saved their money. Like this guy...



Or this guy...



Those people. They annoy me even more than the "grunters".But I will figure out if I will continue or not. In due time my friends. In due time...

But then it hit me. After days of thinking about what I was going to give up, why not gain something instead? So I made a promise to myself, after year after year of successful resolutions, I am going to make this one a  real toughie. I am going to make the, what seems to be, impossible happen. I am going to try my damnedest to get a big boy job.

Not only that, I think it is just time to try and grow up period. I don't know what it is lately, but I have felt like an old freaking man. I don't want to go out, I don't want to drink, I don't want to do much of anything but sit around and yuck it up with the people I care about. I mean, is that a crime? I tend to think not. I just kind of think of it as me metaphorically growing up. I never was a real drinker or partier to begin with, but I wouldn't literally complain about so many people asking me to do things like I now do. It is strange.

With that said here is my resolution as it stands as of January 2nd, 2013.

I, Greg Jackson, will try my damnedest to try and grow up. Not in the sense of I act like a child but in the sense of everything else including my career, my friends, my family, and everything in between.

But for those of you who actually made one and are going through with it, I wish you nothing but the best of luck. Happy 2013 everyone!

Cleveland

Start off with a wonderful video.



Oh Clevelandtown. I hate to say it, and it kills me to do so... but I think I may be allergic to you. You see, I was in your presence this past weekend and ever since I got into the realm of, as they say, "The Clev", I have had massive amounts of congestion and migraines. I am not sick, let's get this straight. I rarely get sick and I know when I am. This is not it. So it has to be some sort of allergy... no other explanation.

Maybe it was the crippling depression.

I mean, honestly, there was NO ONE out at night. I couldn't believe it. I asked Cody, one of my good friends I was with at the time, "are you sure this is a major city"? Because I swear to you, there was literally not a soul on the streets. I was perplexed. Actually I don't know if I was perplexed by that or the fact that I wasn't sure why my head was pounding ALL DAY LONG...

Or maybe it was the constant badgering I took the night before. The first night I felt fine but a lot of things happened that may have lead to these things happening. How about when I beat some girl at darts and she called me an ass. Or how about the girl that was wearing a stripped maroon and yellow sweater who called me a dick for saying she looked like Harry Potter. Or how about the guy who got pissed at me for saying "let's go Steelers" because he was wearing a Pitt hat. Like literally angry. It didn't make any sense. Or how about the angry random black guy who was honestly confused by the fact that I ordered rye toast at a diner... or dinor depending on which side of Lake Erie you are from. Why it was any business of that man's I have no idea but I obliged him by convincing him I was Jewish. A man at the next table even said Salome to me as I was leaving. So in a matter of one night, I was called ass, dick, dick, and Jew. A pretty good accomplishment if I do say so myself. But maybe I am having these headaches from the mental anguish I was put through. I doubt it.

Or maybe it is from that punching bag game I tried to conquer. For those of you who don't know, a lot of bars now adays have these games where burly manly men pay anywhere from 50 cents to a dollar to punch this punching bag as hard as they can. It then measures how hard you punch it. Then other men try and you mock them by how weak they are. You know, good old wholesome fun. Well, being as awesome as I am, I tried this with little effectiveness. Unbeknownst to me, and without having much liquor in my system, I was standing much to close to the machine. I reared back, and wailed on the bag as hard as I could. It looked a lot more majestic then it actually was... being that my follow through was met by a brick wall. Immediately all five of my knuckles on my right hand start bleeding and swelling. It hurt SO BAD. Luckily I didn't break anything but it still hurt like hell. Maybe it is because of that. But I don't think.

So sooooooomething had to have done it. Something had to have latched onto me and is effecting me in such a way that I cant even stand it anymore. Any suggestions? Because I have no idea. It's probably the river water. Haven't you heard? All of Cleveland's fish have aids.



The End

Well I guess that time has come everyone. The world is going to end tomorrow and there is nothing we can do about it. I am going to be spending my last days on this earth doing something I don't give a crap about. Well, actually, I guess those idiotic tribesmen really didn't give a time of day, really. It could happen while I am sleeping, while I am at that job I just spoke of, or it could be later that evening while I am all dulled up celebrating with friends. Not one person knows when this is going to happen. Which reminds me... it isn't going to happen.

If you people actually think some pack of wild men who just so happened to know how to stack some rocks in a triangular formation also knew how to predict the end of this planet, then you should have probably died as idiotic and comically as they did. In fact, let me check my watch... According to my watch, at the time I am writing this blog post, it has been 12-21-12 in New Zealand for almost an hour now. No end of the world yet. Maybe it needs to be Easter Standard Time. Were those savages able to differentiate time zones? I mean, surely they would be able to. They are still thriving... oh wait, no... they weren't even smart enough to stay alive for more than 650 years(ish).

I mean honestly, who believes this crap. For fuck sake. Look how these people dressed. Do I need to say anything more? Oi vey.



The man looks like a true genius. 

Bathroom Fun tip #1

I have come up with many things to do while in the bathroom. You know, to keep yourself occupied from the monotonous duties that occur while you are in there of course... I mean honestly, how boring can it get in there? Well that was before the wonderful invention of Kindles and Smart Phones of course. But I still stick with my guns. I go old school. I have more of these to come by the way... hence the #1 in the title...

Tip #1

Eroding Urinal Cakes

First of all, do women even know what a urinal cake is? I would assume so. This is sort of common knowledge isn't it? But if you don't, here is a flattering picture of one.

When you are a man and you have a penis, it is kind of easy to aim it at things. Thus, when you pee, you can aim the stream at things and hit them with it or even create little designs when you pee in snow. I have, on multiple occasions, wrote my name in cursive while peeing in snow. What man hasn't?  So, as you can see, it is very easy to get carried away with the possibilities. One of my personal favorite pisstimes however is my first bathroom fun tip... It is like Christmas morning when I see a fresh urinal cake. So fresh, so vibrant, so pink. Fortunately for me, my place of employment puts urinal cakes in. So I have multiple chances at honing my craft. Go ahead men. Try it. Take aim at a new urinal cake and see what happens. You will be surprised how long it takes to do it. There are few things better than the feeling of eroding away a chunk off of a urinal cake after days of aiming and pissing. But let ye be warned... the Ghostbusters were right. Don't you dare cross the streams. Not only is is unethical, it is cheating every person who ever tried eroding away a cake. Do it on your own time. I mean, if you are into that kind of thing.

Pissing Contest

I am sorry I am writing about baseball again but I can't help it. Today, the Los Angeles Angels (of Aneheim) signed the top free agent on the market. The numbers are not out there yet for the free world to vomit at, but I assure you, I bet it is five years for at least a trillion dollars. I am obviously exagerating, but you get my point. Now with the recent events going on in the Dodgers organization, I often wonder if these two owners are just trying to make their dicks look bigger than the other owners. I can see it now...

Angels owner Art Mereno

Dodgers partial owner Magic Johnson... and his response.

Hey Chipper!

I am a sucker for celebrity gossip. I have no idea why and I never will. Why should I care about these people who I have nothing to do with besides watching them on a screen? Well in case of athletes, it is kind of the same thing except sometimes I watch them in the flesh. But I saw a news story today that literally blew my mind... well actually just reassured a fact that men have been trying to prove for ages.

First off, I know for a fact that a lot... and I can't stress enough that I just said A LOT, not ALL... of women only date or marry a man because of their wealth. Any woman who puts themselves in a situation where they are questioned about why they are with that person should suck it up and say it because let's face it, it's true. Any woman in that situation that says otherwise is a fucking liar. Plain and simple. The "celebrity" I am referring to in this case is non other than Larry Wayne Jones himself. Or for those of you who have no idea who that is, lets go by his outlandish, not really sure why the hell he was ever called this in the first place, alias, Chipper Jones. There may be a story behind him being called Chipper, but to be honest, I don't give a rats ass.

That is right, everyone's favorite former third basemen of the Atlanta Braves. Not only is he future hall of fame player, which is impressive in it's own right, but he has millions, upon millions, upon millions of dollars. Before I reveal why I am actually writing this blog post, let me fill you in on a bit of Chipper's past personal life. I found out from this article that on November 16th, he finalized his divorce with his now ex wife Sharon Logonov. Turns out this was actually not his first time on the merry go round. He apparently was divorced once before with a woman named Karin Fulford in 1998 because he had an 18 month affair with a Hooter's waitress, which by the way produced a son. Not only this, he is an avid hunter, who has his own hunting television show. So let me get this straight. He has been divorced twice by gorgeous women because he was an ass, he kills animals constantly, and he has the worst beard in the history of the world? If this guy isn't the consistency of ass bag, I have no idea who is.

But back to current times here. Apparently, immediately after getting divorced, he started dating a Playboy model by the name of  Lexi Ray Taylor.

If you don't think this was going on for a while, then you are an imbecile. At this point in time, Chipper Jones is 40 years old going on 41. This blond bombshell is no more than 25 years old. Not only that, she surely realizes his reputation with women at this point. I mean, am I wrong in saying this? The man is a giant womanizer. He has been married to two women already only to screw it up, literally and figuratively. How could a woman as good looking as miss Taylor be interested in him? I mean it isn't like he is a good looking guy. It looks like his face was hit with a frying pan.

Isn't it obvious people? The man is a complete tool, he objectifies women, and he acts like 90% of the men in Fayette County. Why else would that gorgeous woman be dating Chipper Jones? The conversation? I bet that is enthralling. No... it's all about the cash. Plain and simple.

Keys to the City

Hey great news everybody! Usually something as prestigious as getting the keys to a city is due to something that was done by a certain someone that is very special or noteworthy. Hell even heroism falls under that category. But guess who got the keys to the city of North Miami recently? These assclowns.



Well, things are looking up for me I guess. If they can do something noteworthy and get recognition for it, I guess anyone can. I mean, besides the fact that the two on the outside are basically riding the coat tails of their incredibly attractive sister Kim, what else have they done? By the way, I do in fact know their names, I am just saying "the one on the left and right" to illustrate how unimportant they are. Hell, so is Kim as a matter of fact, but she has nice cans, so at least she has SOMETHING going for her.

So I say to you, mayor of North Miami. I have done many things in my life that, apparently, make me worthy for the same keys you gave the Kardashian clan. Let me enlighten you, sir. Do you remember the time I once walked down the street? That was pretty memorable. How about that one time I went to the grocery store and bought some eggplant. Priceless. Wait one second, I forgot about that one thing that happened to me. This one time I got in my car and drove to work. Then I worked for eight hours and came home. What a crazy day.

Noteworthy enough? Hmm? Let me know. I would like to throw a set of keys to Miami on my key ring. Never know when I may need them.

Florida

 Let me get this out in the open first and foremost... I don't give two shits about politics. I do not vote and to be honest I really don't care who the President is. But with that in mind, I still see the news, I still see who is winning the election, and I know what is going on. I have a pulse. And trust me, this blog post is not going to be anything about politics because I am not obligated to share my opinion. Why do I not vote? For a couple of reasons actually. Not only do I think, like probably every other person who does not vote, that my vote does not matter for anything, but it would honestly just be an uninformed push of a button. I know nothing about politics. It confuses me, it pisses me off, and I do not have time in my life for it. With that in mind, I would like to know one thing…

I have been alive for seven Presidential elections. Four or five of those I can actually remember being that in 1988 I was two years old and 1992 I was six. I don't remember ANYTHING at all besides who won most of them. That has obviously changed during that last couple but you get the point. But the single most annoying thing I can remember from the elections is this…

 

That is right everyone, Florida... AKA America's Penis. I swear they are always the only freaking state to cause any problems. Everyone remembers the whole "hanging chad" incident for God sake. But not only that, why are they the only state who can't tally their votes on time? I could MAYBE understand it 4-8 years ago being that nothing was digital, but now? I don't think so. It should literally take a matter of minutes to tally votes. But here we are, nearly 12 hours later, and Florida is still not confirmed. I understand, the President has already won, but honestly it is a joke.

I would love to see what they are doing down there. In my imagination it is a bunch of old people walking around trying to figure out how to do things looking like this...





or this...

or this...

or...

or maybe even...

Like seriously, what are they doing? What the hell is so hard to tally up a few freaking votes and send the information in? My God, California literally doubles you in population. They had their results in within an hour. AN HOUR! And that is technically four hours after you, Florida.

It is now 10am, and you have yet to determine a winner according to MSN.com. Get your shit together you old, stupid, and grossly humid state. The only good thing about you is Disney World. 

Congratulations to Obama though. At least he beat out that cocky looking ass clown Mitt. Who the hell calls their child Mitt anyway?

A day that will live in...

26 years ago today, a miracle happened. Something that would change the world forever. This...

Once upon a time...

Being that most of my clients at work are from the New Jersey/ New York area, I was kind of bored at work this past week. Trying to figure out what to do with my time, I suggested to one of my co-workers that we write a story. The rules were we write two sentences and pass it on. I hope you enjoy what we came up with. By the way, a lot of the things mentioned in our story have to do with our job. So if you do not understand, such as the character Ecru is a color of paper, just look it up or ask. Enjoy!


    

Once upon a time there was a man named Carlsbad. Carlsbad, though highly touted with many honors and riches, was not your normal teenage boy. Being the eldest of his many brothers, he was bound by duty to carry on the family name by being wed to a lady of another fine house and producing offspring. But in reality, Carlsbad really just wanted to dance. You see, dance is the national sport in the land of Envelopia, and Carlsbad had mad skills. His moves were known for miles around as he brought champions to their knees with his patented move, the Charleston. Carlsbad dreamed of a carefree life full of dance and music, but the reality of his situation was starting to sink in. His 21^st birthday was drawing near and therefore the date of his arranged marriage to Lady Penelope of House Baronial.

Lady Penelope had long platinum blond hair and stunningly distinct features. Her hair, almost a warm white, and her gorgeous features would have made any man swoon after her… But Carlsbad was her one and only.

Because they were betrothed at a very young age, Penelope and Carlsbad had met on many occasions at formal functions through the years. She was madly in love with him but harbored a deep secret that kept her lying awake at night with worry and dread that Carlsbad could never love her because, alas, she could not dance. This deep, dwindling, and treacherous secret has harbored many long nights for Penelope being that she was kept awake into the wee hours of the morning. She could not take the pain of what she thought would be the forthcoming disappointment of her newfound friend, lover, and soon to be husband.. Penelope had heard rumors about a witch that lived in the enchanted forest of Cordenons that would mix potions and cast spells for a price. She set about trying to find out if these rumors were true as she planned to ask the witch to cast a spell on her that would allow her to dance beautifully and therefore forever win the love of Carlsbad.

The journey was one of deep mystery and enchantment, and to be honest one that Penelope did not want to travel alone. “Whom shall I request to accompany me on this journey of passion and fulfillment” Penelope asked with a gleam in her eye. With little hesitation she decided to ask her most trusted companion and Lady in Waiting, Neenah of House Ecru. Although Ecru was a lesser House than Baronial and Neenah was technically a servant, they had grown to be the closest of friends over the years. Ecru, a mute in personality but not in heart, mundanely obliged with a swift shrug of the shoulders, and her and Penelope were now off on the journey of a lifetime. “What if we get there and the witch is out of potion, Ecru? What shall we do then” Penelope said.  Ecru, unable to speak but fluent in sign language (a handy thing to know in the least), rapidly signed that if the witch was out of potion that there was an Arthur Murray dance studio that recently opened up in town. Penelope did not find the statement humorous, huffed and expressed disdain at Ecru’s attempted joke. After misunderstanding Ecru’s impression of a bird as sign language for “I need to get my prostate examined”, Penelope was oddly disgusted and confused, while Ecru was offended by the fact that her spot on impression of a swallow was not embraced by her friend. But alas, the trip was much shorter than they thought, as they come across a bargain basement witches hut called “Gamma Green’s- You Get What You Pay For- Confectionary”. They eagerly entered the establishment with the highest of hopes but to their dismay, discovered that Gamma Green’s only accepted Diners Club credit cards and first born children of newly married couples. Ecru urged Lady Penelope to leave as quickly as possible but before they could get to the door they were approached by a salesman by the name of Speckletone, who was known for his ability to talk anyone into a sale.

Speckletone, notorious for his smooth talking, wooed the girls into submission complementing them on their dimples and hourglass figures. “Shall I interest you lovely ladies in some tonics for your sharp minds, beautifully shaped figures, or sultry souls” Speckle poked.

Ecru was especially taken with Speckeltone and was about to agree to purchase a potion that would make her eyebrows blue when Penelope suddenly remembered the purpose of their visit. “STOP!” she screamed “We came for a dance potion and a dance potion only, now what is the price?”

“The price is what you seek yet you are so demanding… you must cool your jets before we talk numbers” Speckletone stated. And in an instant, before either Penelope or Ecru could get a word in, Speckletone was sprinting away as fast as any man had ever ran (he used a fast potion) saying “you, my dear, have an attitude problem. Maybe I will see you again some day.”

They left the shop with heavy hearts and little hope for Penelope’s future. Suddenly, from around the corner, stepped a shady looking fellow in a blue trench coat who asked “Wanna buy a Rolex?” Not really knowing what a Rolex was, the ladies were taken aback by the miscreant in the dirty trench coat. “What are you looking to buy, a Rolex?” asked the miscreant, whose voice sounded very familiar to Penelope. Being distraught and desperate she explained her plight to the man in the trench coat. He raised an eyebrow as he listened and grinned a sly grin before responding. Penelope’s heart sank because her secret was now out! As she stared into the face of her future husband she noticed that his left eye was green and his right eye was blue which indicated that this was not Carlsbad but was Marlsbad, his younger twin brother!

Marlsbad, though looking maniacal in his blue cloak, he is nothing but a gigantic softy. “Hey girls, I was just worried about you since you weren’t around for a couple of hours. My brother sent me, being that he is dancing his balls off for the king. Honestly, I just wanted to make surealright and to say hey” exclaimed Marlsbad. What he forgot to inform them was that even though he was taking online courses on potions, he wasn’t very good at it since not one person was actually there to supervise his potions. Penelope and Ecru should have known better when they witnessed him make some sort of concoction at Ye Olde Taco Belle including Pepsi, Sierra Mist, and Bahama Blast. But they ignored their inner warnings and let him delicately sprinkle his concoction onto Penelope’s feet. Her feet immediately started to move to the rhythm of the song that was playing at the time (One Republic’s Good Life). How in God’s name any person could ever dance to the awful offbeat rhythms of that song is beyond this storytellers grasp, but yet she did. She danced, and danced, and danced until eventually she slipped on some taco meat that was negligently left on the floor.

Later, as the doctor explained that her leg had been so severely broken that she would never walk again without assistance, she wept at the fact that her dream was achieved and smashed all in the same day. Carlsbad then rushed through the door, having heard of her misfortune.” My dearest darling Penelope, I heard what happened from your messenger pigeon and I came waltzing down the street as fast as I possibly could” Carlsbad pleaded. The look in Penelopes eyes was one of worry yet sadness for what had happened… She couldn’t help but worry about breaking the news to the one she loved. She recounted the entire ordeal to Carlsbad, who was amazed at the lengths that Penelope gone to just to make him happy. He exclaimed “I love thee Lady Penelope, whether you can dance or not, I love the with all of my heart!” Ecru, witnessing the whole ordeal, and of course being the way she is, could not express what she was feeling for the two of them. “Will you still love me as a paraplegic who can’t dance? For that is what I shall be till the end of days.” Penelope asked. Carlsbad exclaimed “Yes, I shall love you until the end of our days.” At the same time Marlsbad expressed his secret love for Ecru, who using sign language, told Marlsbad that she loved him as well.… or at least we think that is what she said. And thus, a few short months later, the two wed in the most beautiful and illustrious wedding one has ever witnessed. Words can not describe the monstrous size of everything about the wedding, for bigger is, in fact, better.

And they lived happily ever after. Until a giant meteorite annihilated the entire kingdom.

Just kidding everything was swell.