WTF Man?

During the summer of 2002 I was not in a very good place mentally. College life was not easy for me, and at that time my father passed away leaving me responsible for settling his estate. I began seeing a psychiatrist at the recomendation of my mother. She referred me to her own, a Mr. Jagadeesh K. Moola.

To be honest I really disliked this man at first becuase of his very impersonal, and somewhat cold manner. I think my disapointment was mostly due to my own erroneous expectations. I was expecting a therapist, but this was not his job. He asked me about situations in my life, my reactions and emotions to these events, that was it. No consolation, no tips for feeling better, his job was to diagnose and prescribe, and that was what he did.

A year later I was doing better, and decided to stop taking the medication he had prescribed. I supposed I can't describe exactly what he did to help me out, but suffice to say that he didn't need to, and his kindness and concern meant a lot to me. His wife, Mary, was the office manager/secretary for his practice in Camp Hill, and she was a lovely person. A lot of times I wasn't feeling so great going in for/leaving my appointments, but she would always smile when I came in, and told me to have a good day when I left, and would always manage to get me the appointment time I needed. She had pictures of their kids in frames, and on her desk drawers with magnets.

Now I hear on the radio that some nutsack walked into the office around noon on Friday May 18, pulled out a gun, shot Mary in the chest, and ran away like the little bitch that he is. She died, she fucking died at the ER within the hour. Thinking about how many times I've sat in that waiting room, alone, with Mary a few feet away, well that just freaks me right the hell out. She usually had her door closed, I think it may have been locked on the outside, and she would open it and call you in when Dr. Moola was ready for you. I wonder how this d-bag conviced her to open her door? Did he pretend he was a patient, hell was he a patient??

So here's the lesson kids: you can walk into a Medical Arts building of a hospital, take the elevator up, murder someone, and leave without any static. There is no guard there, and apparently they don't have any cameras in that building because the police's description of "between 5-foot-6 and 5-foot-10 with a slight build, dark and wavy hair, a medium to dark complexion and wearing dark pants" is fucking USELESS!! There is a pharmacy on the ground floor that you HAVE to pass to get upstairs, and I find it really hard to believe there isn't a camera in that pharmacy!

My dentists office is right down the hall from where this all went down. I've been going there since I was born, seriously. What the fuck is going on in this world people? Instead of focusing on what swear words or insensitive adjectives (nappy) we don't want to hear on the public airwaves, how about we focus on how fucking easy it is to get a gun in this country. No joke, it is easier to get a gun than a business loan.

I out right now, I'm just out of words. Fuck.

Let's Play The Race Game

First one to restitution wins!

I am a prejudiced bastard. There I said it. I have a tendency to think a person will act or speak a certain way based on their color, gender, and social status.

I have been following this whole Michael Richards thing since it first occurred on November 20, 2006. In the event you've been moonlighting as Howard K. Sterns' self-respect: Michael Richards (aka Kramer on Seinfeld) was doing a stand-up gig at the Laugh Factory. In the middle of his act a group of people (minorities) walks in and sits down. According to one group member this irritated Richards and he made some mean comments to them. Then later in the act one or more group members started heckling him and this sets Richards off. Most of the incident was caught on video, although the film didn’t start a’rollin until Richards took his racist shots at the hecklers. The reason this is national news is because in his rage, Richards dropped the n-bomb, like 236 times. Just kidding, it was actually closer to 10…or 20.

Ok, after the video hits the internet and Jerry Seinfeld makes a statement about how “sick” he feels about this incident concerning his former costar and friend, Richards publicly apologizes on Letterman via satellite. Richards didn’t even make up a lame excuse to hide behind like alcoholism, drugs, or Kevin Federline[1]. He just expressed his regret over his actions and claimed that he let his anger consume him while on stage that night. Damn, didn’t his agent ever tell him that only losers[2] and 5-year olds[3] tell the truth?

Now the victims (two black guys) of Richards’ rage are touring the morning talk show circuit to talk about how the only thing that will cure their pain and anguish is some cold hard cash. Yes, that’s right, either their sleazy attorney introduced the idea to the innocent young lads hoping to score a juicy cut, or these are some seriously transparent, prideless, mooching bitches. You think if this happened with some small-time comedian[4] they would be paying a lawyer to try and profit from this situation? Ha! Those broke bitches probably would’ve just waited outside the back door to kick his lily white ass for free. If all they really wanted was a personal apology from Richards, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be trying to cash in right now. I love their attorney’s lame ass reason for their cash-sniffing:

“If our children took a rock and threw it through the window of a next-door neighbor, we would say to that child, ‘Go to the neighbor, apologize directly to the neighbor and pay the cost of that window that you broke,'" ... "We think it’s important that he follow his words with deeds."

You stupid, stupid bitch. How the hell did your dumb ass pass the bar? God damn I can’t believe you haven’t killed yourself with your own stupid yet. So from your logic, every time someone says something that requires an apology they should accompany their words with cash? You know, that shit's got some merit.

Sleazy lawyer: your baseless drivel has reduced my IQ by ten points and made me fear for the fate of humanity, you owe me an apology accompanied by twenty bucks. Please do not send check. That is all.

Ten bucks says this ho is working pro-bono until she can get her slice of the settlement. So now what? Should Richards apologize to the victims of his rant? In my opinion (which I know you really want and value) it’s sort of important what the black guys said to Richards. What if they called him a “fucking Jew” or “cracker” or any other slur, should he still apologize? On BET’s comic view the comics spout out “cracker,” “white-boy,” and “whitey” all the time, especially when there is a white audience member. I haven’t heard any of those victims trying to sue or demand an apology even though they got a slavery-era slur to the face. As much as white people sue each other[5], you don’t hear about them suing blacks or Mexicans (because they’re smart)[6] or Asians (because they’re smart)[7]. Maybe white people are masochists and think they deserve the abuse, to make up for their forefathers[8], or something.

I’m not saying that the words spick, chink, cracker, nigger, sand digger, etc are ok, it just seems like whenever these words are uttered they completely erase the faults of the receiving party.
There are always two sides, and the media is only interested in one.


All the racist/prejudicial opinions containted in this rant include but may not be limited to:
[1] Federlineism: insinuating that Kevin Federline is a lame excuse.
[2] Implying that all losers tell the truth.
[3] Insinuating that all 5 year-olds tell the truth.
[4] Suggesting that all small-time comedians are broke bitches that live in their mom’s basement.
[5] Insinuating that white people are litigious.
[6] Alluding that blacks and Mexicans are too broke to be sued successfully.
[7] Suggesting that Asians are too smart/rich to be sued successfully.
[8] Implying that all white people’s forefathers were slave owners.

The Guy's Guide to Yeast Infections

For all the men out there that can't seem to get any from their girlfriends/wives until this ailment runs its course and are looking for a miracle cure...suck it up. However, if you're looking for something that will fully explain the agony that is Yeast Feast, follow the link. Now you will bear full witness to all thoughts, sensations, and cures Yeast. Your woman will thank you for the sympathy.

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/220157847.html

P.S. I think I like this 'Guy's Guide' premise, I may do a follow up on the mysterious Gyno Exam.

Tom Murt Is A Douchebag

First off I'd like to apologize if this post is rushed and crappy in general, I had to completely rewrite it after Blogger erased it. Lovely.

I don't know who Tom Murt is, what office he's running for, or even what political party he represents. I have purposefully delayed Googling this guy until after I write this rant to keep it politically impartial. The scene proceeded thusly:
I went to vote last night, and pulled into a parking lot surrounded by political fliers and signs. I approach the building's main door, cross the threshold, and come face to face with some old fart trying to hand me a political flier for Tom Murt. After politely declining and effectively hiding my initial reaction of shock, I proceed to the voting room which was less than 20 feet away. I voice my concern of their proximity and get a kindly "we're looking into it."
After voting I head back toward the group of decrepit seniors and overhear one of the voting officials arguing with them about how close they are. One guy claims that they are outside the required ten foot proximity. Here's about where I call bullshit. If some lady in Kansas can get a ticket for sporting a political bumper sticker within 250 feet of a polling location, then these assholes should at least be politely told to back the fuck up.
So, in conclusion, what these tools were doing was unethical, tacky, low-class, and most importantly, fucking annoying. All of these qualities can be associated with douchebags. I'll use my tough-shit theory of reletivity and calculate that Tom Murt is now a douchebag.

The End.

Dustin Rowles Is A Fucking Genius And Here's Why:

Please follow this link for reference material.
I am as indifferent to movie reviews as the next literate American, only skimming the column or paragraph for some juicy criticism. However, this man has taken the film review to a level of bitching wit thine eyes have ever had the pleasure of settling on. I may try to transcribe my irritated thoughts via prickly sarcasm and humor dryer than your grandma's cooch, but I must bow my protesting head to this man.
Kudos to you sir.

P.S. Did you whiners vote yet??

Office Gripes-Round 1

Gripes in order of occurrence…

1.) Common greeting terms such as “yo,” and “wuddup” are considered “street talk.”

2.) Why the hell does that one guy wear jeans to work everyday while I make the effort to conquer the ambiguous “business casual?”

3.) I’ve noticed that approximately 80% of my office mates are falling victim to the dreaded ‘office chair spread.’ This socially debilitating affliction mostly targets the sufferer’s ass and abdomen, causing them to break loose from their trim, youthful confines and bulge slowly outwards like pudding squeezed from a cup. Pondering whether it’s contagious.

Image courtesy of
http://generallyawesome.com

4.) One of my bosses catches up with me in the break room, mentioning he heard I got on the fiber measurement project and recommending that I should “get your eyes checked” in a joking manner. That douche had better be kidding because I don’t make anywhere near enough to go blind for this place, fat maybe, but not blind.

5.) Instead of more common and genial queries such as “how are you doing?” and “How’s it going?” the engineering phrase of casual personal inquiry seems to be “so what are you working on?” I’m assuming their pick-up lines proceed in similar fashion.

6.) Free doughnuts in the break room twice a week. Can’t help but wonder why the bosses think it’s a good idea to promote Gripe #3. Theory: the bosses plot to get us bright, young employees fatter and fatter each year, thus eroding our self-esteem and demoralizing us until we’ll work for pennies to stay holed up in our safe cubicles living off Doritos crumbs and the internet.

7.) I’ve realized that those Dilbert comic strips I used to almost laugh at are now sadly on-point.

8.) One of my bosses keeps a room in the back solely for storing all his audio equipment including a keyboard and various stage setup gadgets. Theory: he stores it here so his wife won’t bitch at him for practicing his crappy, mid-life crisis wannabe white band music in the house.

9.) I caught one of my coworkers coasting along on his kick scooter during lunch break. Theory: after getting a PhD, a person has gained so much useless information that they revert back to a child mind-state to ease the blinding pressure of knowledge. As long as it keeps ‘em from shooting up the place I say, ride on.

10.) The guy in the cubicle next to me eats fruit all fucking day, everyday. Is this guy on a bitch diet or what? He’s over there crunching away for twenty minutes at a time, the sound making my skin crawl all the while. It annoys me even more that his exasperating habit is good for him; I’m certain I’d feel better somehow if he were noisily scarffing Pringles.

Misplaced Nostalgia Part II

Yes I made it back alive from that mentally crippling blackhole that is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I achieved a surprising personal record of getting lost three times in ONE DAY in a city I lived in for five years. I could be honest and say it was probably my own fault for taking navigator (read: bitch) seat on four hours of sleep, but I'd much rather blame it on the fact that all Pittsburgh city planners are hired based on their lack of common sense and sense of direction. In short, saw some friends, ate some food, drank some beer. Although, how I managed to cram all of the seeing, eating, and drinking that was accomplished into 48 hours I will never know.

I found it ironically hilarious to see all the hang-over victims schlepping their way in and out of Brueggers at noon, still in pajamas, and with no discernable sign of owning hair brushes. Their shear numbers in the tiny cafe resulted in the unique "freshman musk" permeating every corner. And in case you don't know, musk=stink here. I am such a bastard.

Some things I'll never miss:
-Subjecting my car to the steel plate covered, garbage/drunk student strewn, poorly lit, crater infested riverbeds they call "streets." Christ I'd rather break out the horse and buggy and take my chances on a dirt road! Here's a friendly tip, when a car hits a pothole and its passengers ass' leave their seats, it's time to fix the goddamn hole!
-The atmosphere of academically induced depression is not only palpable but highly contagious as well. By the time we left I just knew I was going to fail that Chem 2 midterm next week...
-The mysterious lack of a decent, all-night eatery on campus, and no 7-11 doesn't count you idiot!
-Furthering the cliched college student/waitress combo.
-Fat bitches in spandex.

Some things I never thought I'd miss:
-The relatively polite homeless guys.
-Making fun of the geeks in CD Warehouse.
-Hillman. Am I a nerd? Abso-friggin-lutely.

Some things I'd move back for:
-Uncle Sams
-Schenley Park
-Frisbee on the Cathedral lawn

Ah college, until next time...