Well, shit, dorks, we've been caught.
The lovely and talented Eva Moore has announced on her own blog (http://themeasure.diaryland.com) the fucktastic return of Dorks Don't Rock.
So, to all of you white t-shirt alternative vegetalbe people who might be reading this for the first time ... Hi and don't take my rants (and not boring Dennis "Finger me, I'm special now" Miller rants) too seriously. For I, born of Iowonian man and woman, am but a humble consumer of cheap liqour and lover of all things Zeppelin.
And for you people who have been keeping up with the return of the blog for the past couple of weeks I think it's time you got an answer to the question of where the hell I was for 3 months.
Well, you see, after the layoff I went into what psychiatrists might call a multi-month bender. You see, since it was near the holidays and near the end of the year the only people who were in the market for hiring were cocaine dealers. I didn't become a cocaine dealer, obviously, so I had to go with what work I could. This was mainly sitting in front of a computer looking at screens to find problems.
What problems?
No one could really tell me what problems I was supposed to look for. Yes, it's true. So, for a couple of months I sat in front of a computer screen and scanned through several thousand pages of documents for 8 hours a day. I was fried and poor at the end of the day. But I had to eat and so I had to work. What I didn't HAVE to do was write in my blog. So, I didn't.
Also, the days around here became supremely short. I lived in darkness like a beast cast from job security into the pits of temping.
But now things are definitely turning around and I am on a life-improvement kick.
This is why I'm doing the diet, making amends with my alcoholic mother, focusing on maintaining the love between me and the redheaded R. sexpot, looking for a better job (although the non-brain-frying one is good for now and puts little rush on me to find a better one) and paying off debts occured by Christmas and such.
Speaking of which ...
So, I called this trendy clothing company today that I have an account with. I was wanting to pay off my card and such. So, perplexed by my balance, I asked when they received my last payment.
"November 8th"
"What the hell?!? November? That's not right!"
"Sir, the information I have in front of me says you haven't paid since November."
"Well, dammit, the information is wrong .."
"Sir, what it says is ..."
"I don't give a damn what it says ..."
"that fines have been ...
"Stop talking."
"...added and that to remove .."
"Listen, I want you to stop talking right now. I am done listening to you. Put on your supervisor." ( I really said this, by the way, and he shut up).
('only the lonely' on muzak)
"hmmly la lmmmly ... mm, mm, mm ,ummm-m-mm-mm"
"Hello, Mr. Kinkade, this is another annoying peson. You wanted late fees removed?"
"No, I was concerned because that guy said I hadn't paid on my card since November."
"It shows us here that you made a payment on January 8th."
"Well, you need to teach that guy the difference between November and January"
Well, I won't bore you with the rest of the story but they were jerks. I like beef jerky not jerks, beefy.
Yesterday I got in touch with someone from the "big paper" and set up a meeting for tomorrow. We gonna talks about hows I'd be a good little writer for their big ol' paper. I'll update you on that later.
My The Shins tickets came.
My, The Shins tickets came.
My, The Shins tickets CAME?
Moving on.
Another paper has responded to a little 40 word start to a porno story that I sent in. It's not the porno thing I mentioned before, it's another porno thing. The world is full of porno things.
The deal is this, I write a 40 word opening to a story and if they like it I finish up the story by recording it on a server. Then they run the 40 word snipet and if people are titilatted they call up and listen to the end. If I get the most people to listen I win something, probably more porn. Well, I have a little problem. First, read my intro.
After class I stopped at the cafeteria for a can of pop. I couldn't carry it because my arms were full of books.
"Got any lube? I know a place to put that," I heard my sorority sister Heather say.
Awesome, eh? Lesbian soda can sex! Oh my god, I'm so wickedly pornirksome. Except ...
Who the fuck is going to listen to the story when they call up and hear a guy with a deep voice saying this ...
"So, we went to my room and got wickedly naked. I mean all the way with tits and all of it. We were such hot chicks. Then I got that lube that was mentioned in the ad thing and Heather was like 'Damn, I want to do nasty shit with this soda can'."
I really want to win this contest and I think I have a good start. I just need to convince some chick to pretend she's getting Sprited (dibs on this newfound euphanism). Maybe it's time to use the old "Get the girlfriend drunk and suggest the unsuggestable" technique.
Speaking of which (I am full of seques today) I spent the night with my precious yesterday. We watched the "Real World: San Diego". Two of them got arrested for really nothing at all. We have a theory that people are just sick of MTv and the likes and are looking for any reason to lock up people who associate with them.
That would be awesome. So awesome that I do a chair-jig thinking about it.
Well, I think that's enough for this smirksome Wednesday. All of you S.C. Democrats, all 17 of you, vote for Dean. He's the non-Botox-filled-non-Bush-loving candidate. AND HE'S A LITTLE NUTS! AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH, DORKS!
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