Unwanted Commentary

Voice 1: I’m just gonna grab my junk here and run.

Voice 2: That’s something I’d like to see…

There was some conversation going on between a couple of the older gentleman who frequent the fitness center. Voice 1 is a very loud and boisterous one, as in obnoxiously loud. You can pretty much hear him from any location in the locker room. It’s the kind of voice that makes me think of a crabby old Greek cabby from New York, the kind that really doesn’t know how loud he is, he simply knows no other way to verbally communicate. So as I’m drying off I hear him, it is a voice that is instantly recognizable, and I hear the low volume replies of whoever he’s assaulting in conversation. Through the din I caught the above snippet. And really that was all as everything else was drowned out by my giggling.:

Posted by Jeff at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Let me tell you something. Let me tell you something about EPIC storms. Let me tell you about convertible tops that have been slashed open. Let me try to explain that the magnitude of this storm’s force was greater than a Hefty bag’s ability to keep afore mentioned slashed opening properly protected. Let me tell you that some dwelling spaces are not as water tight as a brother might lead a sister to believe. Let me tell you that if CiCi and I never have to bail water out of anything ever again for all eternity we will be content that we were not cheated in this existence.

If you’ve never tried Orthodoxy, I would highly recommend it. Especially if you’re fed up with wimpy religion and I can say this with utmost confidence: Orthodox Christianity is not for the weak of stamina, fortitude or will. Due to scheduling constraints we left after two hours, but the Mass was still going strong. I admit I felt a little defeated, but I took some condolence in that the kindly lady who guided us (thanks to Cici) lasted only thirty minutes her first time, or so she said. On the other hand I felt like I had WORSHIPPED the Lord and I have the aching body and sore calves to prove it.

It probably goes without saying, but growing up Baptist does not prepare one for an Orthodox service. The simple fact of entering the cathedral and seeing no pews was a big enough shock. The whole experience was overwhelming to the point where my audio, and visual perception just kind of went numb and let the tides of ancient religious ritual wash over. The murals, the incense, the crossing, the bowing, the icons, the priest’s outfits and the standing in one spot for two hours were like a tidal wave. I couldn’t help but be a willing captive to this monumental spiritual menagerie, my abilities to resist, my defenses were too beleaguered. A kind of stupor?

I highly recommend it. I also highly recommend keeping a sturdy tarp and bungies available, as well as, mops, buckets and sponges. For, you know, catastrophic flooding.

Today's title brought to you by Scary Go Round

Posted by Jeff at 08:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I’ve always had a lingering interest in learning foreign languages. I took a few years of Spanish in High School with very marginal results. There are a myriad of reasons and excuses as to why that was, but in the end it simply means that I never even became even close to functional with the language. Over the years I’ve considered picking it back up, trying build upon the small foundation that I already have, but without any real reason to do so I’ve always let the idea drop. Lately however, that purpose that I’ve always lacked has been replaced by a need. You might even call in a yearning.

To that end I began using the Internet to research how best I might fulfill this need, or if falling short of best, at least how I might do it freely. Now, when I want to do something free of charge I still want to use the best available product, and we all know that the Internet is good for fulfillment of all sorts of yearnings. But sometimes you have to compromise with what is most popular or effective and what is actually available for burglary. Fortunately it would seem that The Rosetta Stone: Spanish is both very popular, at least amongst Amazon folk, and quite available via certain nefarious channels.

So far I’ve managed a copy that proclaims multiple language lessons, but it seems pretty dated. I have another version, currently percolating, that’s labeled as exclusively Spanish, so I’m hoping it may be wielding a more modern interface. Either way I feel like I’ve made some head way into my project and I’m pretty excited about getting this crap home and giving it a whirl. Because as enthusiastic as I may be to start expanding my language barriers I just can’t bring myself to enunciate “El Gato” or “La Mujera” while at work.

My hope is that the combination of being exposed to native speakers and using a more formal learning tool I might actually be able to climb this hill and become bilingual. Then all I have to do is sit back and wait for the monies to start rolling in.

Posted by Jeff at 02:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Egad! It is a gloomy day in the realm of North Texas and the boss’s wife just nicked the last of our coffee too. Bitch. The fog has been thick and heavy for the last few days and the atmosphere has been heavy with moisture, the temp has been chilly, but not really cold. Not the sort of weather that will put you in a jolly mood, that’s for sure.

It’s been a good week so far. It started off with me getting to meet Cici’s parents, her brother Tony and her sister Gabby, though Tony was the only one I had any deliberate conversation with. They seem like nice folk and didn’t seem overly concerned that I was there, which is probably just as well. I was well fed for the occasion and Cici bought me a Loteria set from the bakery where we bought Mexican sweet bread. I can now say that I’ve eaten pig skin in chili sauce and I can also state that once I got over the texture it was actually pretty good. But I doubt it will become a frequent request. The fried egg on the tostado with beans was heavenly. Dating a Mexican has certain benefits, oh yes.

Posted by Jeff at 04:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

He was doing crunches, taking a break between sets. She was stretching and acting cute.

She gazed over at him, “You’re an irresistible bastard.”

She giggled.

Then she gave him the body slam.

Posted by Jeff at 08:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

There was very little attendance of Russian Orthodox Church services this weekend, but perhaps an over abundance of other activities. A lot of effort was given out in anticipation of the Orthodox service, but we found the last hurdle to be slightly more than we could overcome. It was not, as we had assumed, a large cathedral like structure, but instead it was the kind of construction that more resembled a small, single family dwelling. It did have a sign on the outside indicating that it was a church, but it was not what we had been anticipating. Foolishly, the line in the directions to the location that stated “turn into the alley” didn’t tip me off.

It could have been the weather. Lord knows that it was verging on the inclement classification. Inclement for North Texas means that ice has been spotted somewhere and this elicits one of two responses. The first is what I believe lead to an absolute absence of warm bodies at our little Orthodox Church and that would be that people go into timid hibernation. Fearful of poking their heads out of their holes for fear they may cause a twelve car pile up on 635 by simply viewing frozen precipitation. The second response is to embrace the situation and behave as if it’s 75 sunny degrees and perfect driving conditions, perhaps edging the normal reckless driving speed up by about 10mph.

I think I digress, but the bottom line is that we chickened out. It felt too much like we were going to be imposing on someone’s private worship service, though I maintain that we would have braved it if we, by ourselves, would not have comprised half the congregation. So, despite being waved at by a gentleman that migrated between his car and the “church” several times, we decided to opt out for a safer venue: a Methodist church down the road whose service got going only fifteen minutes after the supposed beginning of the Orthodox what-have-you.

The Methodist service was nice and cozy. Due to the lack of folk they held services in the chapel and that made for a very “down home” kind of feel to the goings on. My imagination conjured up a small white church nestled in the woods with faint whisps of smoke drifting up from a still hidden up in the woods. It was a complete package, really, with the kooky, overly excited old ladies who were so happy to see us and commented on how prettily we sang the very traditional hymns. One wonders if they had been selected purposefully for the occasion or had everything been more intelligently designed?

We may try for the Lutheran Church next Sunday or we may try to find a more substantial Orthodox congregation. One where a long haired blonde gringo and his small Mexican girlfriend won’t attract too much attention to themselves…though I’m not sure that blending into the crowd will ever be our specialty.

Posted by Jeff at 09:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It’s only three in afternoon and I sit here contemplating Part III of the Happy Hour adventures. This one looks to be interesting, at least in that it will take place in a slightly askew manner. One of the usual suspects, Rosy, has been out all week “working” on her house, but still endeavors to keep our fledgling weekly tradition alive by meeting us at Gloria’s (Oak Lawn Edition).

We also face a daunting force of nature. The temperature in these here parts has turned cold and those that predict the weather as a profession are speculating about precipitation. They’ve applied the label “Wintry Mix” to the precipitation as they throw out numbers in the sub 32 category. So it could get interesting.

The planning is, as of yet, still in the preliminary phase. I’ve yet to hear an affirmative from CiCi, so I guess there’s still a chance that our intricate web of plans may fall apart. Rosy has enticed us with an offer to buy the first “round”, so I’m chortling in anticipation of prepaid booze.

CiCi and I have already had some adventures this week. Yesterday we braved a Vietnamese Buffet and today we attempted sushi at a local establishment embedded in our place of employment. Both expeditions were well worth the effort, I'll have you know and I feel very lucky to be attached to a woman who seems eager to go along with my hair brained schemes. We’ve come up with one such scheme together and that is to attend a Russian Orthodox Church service. Neither of us really knows what to expect, but I have large expectations. Plus, there’s a free lunch afterwards. Can’t beat that.

So, see you on the other side of the weekend filthy readers!

Posted by Jeff at 03:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

When you’re already an asshat you really shouldn’t go around doing things that make you even more of an asshat. Especially when you’re starting off with, at the very least, one foot in the asshat hole because you have that strange little streak of white in your otherwise normally colored brown hair. Why? Why the fuck is that there? For the love of God man, do something about that. Just. For. Men! Try it.

Now I understand that once you’re already starting from a well entrenched asshat position the instinctive thing to do is ride that bitch for all it’s worth and simply be what is most advantageous to you. But I think you should consider circumstances before unleashing your asshateous spores into the public air space for all of us to inhale. For instance, I am a computer technician and as such my job often requires me to go into offices that are not my own. This in no way means that I have taken that person’s job, I assure you I am just visiting and once I have completed the requirements of my job I will leave.

Once that sinks in you might also consider that I have also NOT morphed into the person that regularly occupies that chair, nor have I assumed their name. Greeting me with the client’s name is NOT, generally, a good way to start off interaction with me, especially when you’re a known asshat. Now, you could stop there and walk away, but like I said I understand that the inclination is to ride that bitch for all it’s worth; which, evidently means you think that since I am a.) not the person who normally occupies the office or b.) I have not taken their name for my own, that obviously I am their god damned keeper. That somehow in learning how to resolve issues in Windows XP I have also gained super psychic powers allowing me to know the movements of the computer’s user. I can barely stress how little I care that the user is burdened by SPAM in the first place, I just don’t know how to convey that there is no mechanism in this plain of reality to measure my concern for where the user has gone once they leave my visual field. That is unless I need their password. Indeed, it would be folly for me to even guess, because I believe the quantum physics I learned from a sci-fi book said that once an object leaves my sight it instantly becomes multiple objects and who am I to fuck with quantum physics?

So, please, I realize you're a doctor and that you’ve been at school for a very long time. I allow for a certain level of asshatery based on this alone, but there really is no need to push the envelope. Just no need at all.

Posted by Jeff at 08:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This came from Warren today via bad signal:

bad signal WARREN ELLIS

Happy Valentine's Day to all. And to
those who hate the day, I say this:
Valentine's Day is a Christian
corruption of a pagan festival
involving werewolves, blood and
fucking. So wish people a happy
Horny Werewolf Day and see what
happens.

Horny Werewolf Day needs to
come back. I expect R Stevens
and J Rowland to have t-shirts
ready for next year.

Posted by Jeff at 02:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thanks to the astute bunny's scathing comments I realized that I didn't give instructions on where and how to get the java version of Dark Tower. You can find a link to it in the About section of the Dark Tower web site that I linked earlier, but you must scroll down a little to find it. It will be under the heading of "Has anyone made a computer version of Dark Tower?"

You will need java to play the java version. I haven't tried the Flash version, but the Java is top notch! If anyone plays the Flash, let me know how it turns out for you. I apologize for being the crude knuckledragger that I am. I hope that you can find it in your filthy hearts to forgive me for such crass behavior. It is Valentines day after all.

Loves and hearts and, um, puppy dogs to you all.

Posted by Jeff at 02:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It’s refreshing to see so many people taking the high road and using a hunting accident for comedic purposes. The scenario is not without waggish merit, but when you get down to brass tacks a 78 year old man was shot. By a shotgun. So he wasn’t killed and it was Dick Cheney who pulled the trigger, I understand the circumstances but fail to see the real humor. I wonder if every late night comedian would have based their monologues on the event had the old geezer lost a good section of his brain pan.

I watched a local news program while home for lunch and they showed the late night talk show clips before cutting out to commercial. I’ll admit it, I laughed. It is a comedy of errors, the evil Dick Cheney gunning down a lawyer. I guess it’s too rich a comedy gold mine and you can’t hold it against them for using the obvious. But what was even more fucking funny was when the news anchor came back on the air to report on a breaking story from the AP; Mr. gunned-down-lawyer had a mild heart attack brought on by buckshot close to his heart. The anchor made sure to let everyone know that they had JUST received the report. One assumes the addendum was added because, you know, it’s never nice to make fun of old men who get shot if they’re having heart attacks. Good to know there’s a threshold.

I’m not sure why this puts a bug up my arse, but it does.

Posted by Jeff at 02:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A lot can be said of an evening when you wind up at one of those stores where they sell predominately adult themed contraptions and videos, especially when you wind up there with a drunken co-worker and your drunken girlfriend. Our Friday ritual, if you will, of Happy Hour has taken us to some strange places. It all started out innocently enough a few weeks ago when we needed to kill some time before a movie. The next week, last week I guess it was, after we had imbibed margaritas at Gloria’s, we wound up at co-worker Rosy’s house, and along with her husband, we played Dark Tower.

One really must experience Dark Tower to get the full effect, but let me try to elucidate you as to its nature. I call it a game only because my paltry vocabulary prevents me from finding a suitable word for it. Imagine a circular board, and in the middle of this board standing almost a foot in height is a large, hulking piece of black plastic formidably fashioned into the rough shape of a tower. Imagine that it has a key pad on one side and that it rotates to face each player. This is the Dark Tower (dramatic music)!

Each of us present that night chose an avatar to represent us in the game world, a small plastic figurine clad in armor, wielding some piece of medieval weaponry and striking a dramatic pose. We each began in a separate quarter of the board. In our very own realm, or kingdom. There were molded plastic bits pegged into the board at various locations and these represented certain structures where interactions took place. There was a bizarre where you could haggle and buy certain objects such as more warriors or food. There was a tomb and “ruins” where the chance for phat lewt was increased and lastly there was a temple where you could return when all your heady dreams of adventure had been crushed.

The “game” was played by interacting with the control panel on the Dark Tower itself, you would push a button to tell it what you were doing and off you went. Depending on the mood of the tower you could find yourself fighting brigands, getting raped by the dragon or fighting brigands. If you were parallel to the tomb or the “ruins” you could enter one of those fine establishments and fight brigands. Upon such encounters the Tower would whir, click and determine your fate, flashing up little pictures as a counter showed the number of warriors left to your army and how many brigands remained to harry you. The ultimate goal was to circumnavigate the board and then, depending on how lucky you felt, you could assault the Dark Tower itself and kill…more brigands. But mercifully that act heralded the end of the game.

While I can imagine this was a marvel in 1981, I can’t say that it’s very impressive after two decades. Still, the randomness of the whole ordeal lent it a charming air of frivolity and the raucous calamity of the Tower itself provided a certain amount of novelty. I would encourage you to check out the website and see the great artwork, as I think this was the highpoint of the whole experience. If you find yourself with free time at work, try the java applet version of the game!

So, in the end I think the less said about an evening where you end up at an adult themed book store with drunken women, the better.

Posted by Jeff at 02:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

To all of my filthy readers who may be curious and/or sympathetic, the Gray Cat appears to be in fine health and fully recovered from his ordeal. No worse for wear. When I got home yesterday evening he was romping and playing about. He seemed cozier than usual, but I suppose that we’ve forged a bond, the kind of bond one can only have with another living creature after pulling something out its rear end. Maybe he’s thankful. Maybe he’s just relieved to not have almost a foot of synthetic material winding its way through his intestines. Having never been in that situation I can only imagine what the sensation is like, though if I stop to think about it I get a little scared. I’m no veterinarian, but I’m sure the possibility of some dangerous, life threatening incident was quite high. Thankfully the boy seems to have tough plumbing. Though I did once hear of a Shitz Shu who passed a roofing nail…now that kind of puts things in perspective doesn’t it?

Anyway, day is about done and it is time for Happy Hour featuring Margaritas, starring Rosy and CiCi. So I shall wish everyone a happy, prosperous and ribbon free weekend!

Posted by Jeff at 04:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The morning had been going along in a very efficient manner and I was feeling pretty good about my chances of making it to work a little early. But it’s funny how life finds strange new ways to put obstacles in your path.

At some point in the past the Gray Cat decided that Christmas ribbon would make for a good meal, evidently I’m not feeding him enough. This morning when I got out of the shower I happened to notice that there was some poo on the floor. At first I didn’t think much of it since those rascally cats sometimes knock poo out of the litter box, play with it and then I find small pieces in weird places. But as I did a double-take a couple of things struck me. First, this was no small piece of poo. Typically the pieces of poo designated for playtime are short in length. Next I noticed that there was something weird about this poo, it had a strange texture. I tried to imagine that if it wasn’t poo, for I had never seen poo of this nature, what could it be? Not wanting to dive into the investigation with bare hands I went to get paper towels.

That’s when I noticed a long stringy string shaped object on the floor. Initially I wanted to believe that it was a strand of carpet or something, the boys often sharpen their claws on the Berber carpet. It made a kind of sense. I chose not to look too closely, but as I made my way to the kitchen I began to notice a few other tiny pieces of poo on the floor, the kind of pieces that one might attribute to an object that had broken up in reentry from low Earth orbit. About that time, while I’m wondering what the hell is going on and while the Blue Cat is shadowing me meowing, I see his brother dart past headed for the bedroom. Now I couldn’t be certain at that exact moment, but I really felt in the back of my mind that I had seen something unusual. It had appeared that there was something trailing him. You might say it was dangling behind him and from the brief viewing I would have estimated it to be about six inches long and coming out of his butt.

My mind worked with a surprising rapidity and I began to piece together what had happened. At this point I decide that I need to apprehend the Gray Cat and make sure he was okay. So I go in pursuit, luckily I spy his tail and his butt streamer slipping into the closet. I scoop him up and without really studying the situation I toss him into the bathroom, shutting the door. I go back and inspect the strand of stringy material that I’d seen on the floor. Yep, it’s ribbon, eerily familiar ribbon, and by its appearance, as evidenced by the similar looking thing in his ass, I felt pretty comfortable in hazarding the guess that my dear pet had filtered it through his digestive system.

I decided that I’d start with the basics first, if for no other reason than to give my mind time to settle. I’d clean up the external evidence first, and then deal with the more delicate situation last. Fortunately I still had some disposable rubber gloves, so I go get those, plus paper towels and a trash bag. Soundly equipped for battle I commence cleaning up the mess to a backdrop of wailing issuing forth from the bathroom. With things tidied up I figured I’d better see what I could do for the unfortunate kitty. I opened the door. He bolted, butt decoration and all. Then I couldn’t find him.

Thankfully the apartment is small and there are only so many places a cat in his condition can hide. I found him in one of the cabinets after having searched under the bed and in the closet. As I slowly opened the cabinet door I peered inside to see him hunkered down behind the trash can all the way to the back. I pulled the can out and he whimpered at me most pitifully. I tried to reassure him that it would all be okay soon, but my attempts at sympathy were sullied as I barely restrained myself from laughing.

In the end, poor little Gray Cat, I don’t think the sensation of having several inches of ribbon pulled out of your ass is a very comforting one, but to his credit he soldiered on and only struggled a little. The revolting nature of the situation was slightly relieved by the comedic virtue, and the rubber gloves were a boon. I didn’t even gag. When everything was removed and we were all done I slid him back into the cabinet to nurse his wounded pride and, well, recompose himself I’m sure. He was still whimpering a little as I closed the door. I checked on him before I left for work and he was still hunkered down in the back of the cabinet, but otherwise he seemed okay.

Posted by Jeff at 05:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I think part of the problem is that I have too much to write about. There have been so many things going on in my life over the last week, last month that I can’t find the processing strength to get them all out. I won’t pull punches, last week was a high holy shit fest and if it hadn’t been for CiCi being my one bright spot I probably would have done, um, well…something I’m sure.

The week started off so nicely, but when my glasses irrevocably broke and my boss yelled at me in the same day it was too much to handle. Thursday morning was quite cruel in that it started off in the best possible way only to kick me squarely in sensitive places, but at least I had rectified the situation with the glasses. It really is hard to describe the intolerable hatred for fellow humans one feels when one comes out to their apartment parking lot to find the top to their convertible slashed open. Making it worse the security gate was wide open, so that was the reason for the intrusion. I do thank the perpetrators of the heinous act of thievery for making a “professional” cut right across the top. These are much easier to patch with duct tape.

Of course all of these events occurred under the ominous shadow that I may be forced into paying our beloved infernal revenue service a substantial amount of money. Because, you know, marriage deserves to be punished, or maybe divorce. X2 and I are down to the last option of going to the Block, H&R to see if they have some mythical ancient balm that can magically sooth our taxy condition.

Despite it all, by the Friday I was in super good spirits and I was creeping myself out a little. I guess that happens when you realize that you’re not actually going to die and you still have a very attractive girlfriend that somehow manages to make you feel like everything is going to be okay. And it has been okay, better than okay, so I’m thankful for what I have and life goes on much as it always has…only with a little more ventilation while driving. Also, Gloria’s margaritas wash away an amazing amount of pain and learning that a co-worker of CiCi’s has had sex on her boss’ bed kind of puts things in perspective.

Posted by Jeff at 09:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

“The division of one day from the next must be one of the most profound peculiarities of life on this planet. It is, on the whole, a merciful arrangement. We are not condemned to sustained flights of being, but are constantly refreshed by little holidays from ourselves. We are intermittent creatures, always falling to little ends and rising to little beginnings. Our soon-tired consciousness is melted out in chapters, and that the world will look quite different tomorrow is, both for our comfort and our discomfort, usually true. How marvelously too night matches sleep, sweet image of it, so nearly apportioned to our need. Angels must wonder at these beings who fall so regularly out of awareness into a fantasm"

Posted by Jeff at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Taking a break, will return shortly.

Posted by Jeff at 08:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was telling Cici earlier that I feel like I’m in a bit of writing slump. I can think of things to blog about, but I’m having trouble churning up the gumption to do it. So I guess you get this sort of post, where one writes about not being able to write. I’m sure there’s irony there or is it a paradox? I used to feel confident in the meaning of those words, but ever since someone told me that Alanis Morissette’s song Ironic isn’t really ironic I find myself questioning the plausibility of many things.

I’m suddenly very paranoid that my writing style is becoming redundant…and overly simplified. Commas fill me with fear, I’m never sure where and where not to put them. I know I need them, but too many of them can create uncomfortable situations. We won't touch on grammar. Maybe I need an editor?

I’m suspicious that I might be developing an addiction to coffee. Either that or I’m becoming sensitive to it. Maybe I need to get more sleep. I did forget to mention…or did I?...that I got a new bed. I bought it from IKEA and Cici helped me put it together. I’m pleased with the investment and I’ll admit that it was nice to get rid of the old fossilized carapace of the Select Comfort bed I had. That thing never did work right after I disassembled and moved it the first time. Anyway, I like the new mattress and I feel civilized in that I now have a matress in an actual bed frame, but I’m harboring the notion that the whole contraption may not be exactly up to my required comfort specifications. I’ll have to let you know.

Getting new glasses tonight after work. Those of you who might recall will remember that I broke my frames some time ago in the gym shower and how that event caused great consternation. Well, those babies were held together with super glue for quite some time and I must applaud fate in allowing me to skirt the issues of purchasing new eyewear for so long, but time eventually ran out. As I’m all sure we knew it would. I’ve learned some important lessons through this experience and not the least of which is that you should use caution in the brand of super glue you use to repair eye wear. My prayer to all knowing baby Jesus is, at this point, that the toxic fumes have caused no lasting damage. On this I shall also let you know.

And…we’re done.

Posted by Jeff at 04:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)