Friday, June 27, 2008

John Cougar Summercamp

Well it's Friday. I don't have to come back to this god-forsaken hell hole until July 7th. I get to relax on the sunny shores of Crime Village for 10 days because airline fares are off the fucking chain. But at least I won't be here. At the very least.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too fucked up to be a success. I mean a REAL success. I hate dealing with people and I have lots of patience issues. I get presented with opportunities and I'm too lazy to follow through. I'm in the midst of that right now.

People call me and they always want something. I'm too fucking lazy to be the point person for anything. Phone calls make me sleepy. Bitchin' ass people make me ill.

Every gig I'm at I feel an overwhelming need to get the fuck out of it as soon as possible. In this economy it's not working like I'd like it too, so I feel even more stuck.

I'll take next week off and relax somewhat, though wedding planning will be going on all around me. Try to do something in Detroit that Vegas, with the 1,000 conference sessions I had to attend, couldn't do: take my mind off this fucking job.

See Y'all Later,

Wednesday, June 25, 2008


"I'm no rocket scientist...."

I can't tell you how many times I've started sentences like this, but I might be wrong. How can everybody else be so fucking dumb, so petty, so fucking backwards....

I can't fucking listen anymore. My ears are hard. My heart is empty. Fuck your city. Fuck your problems.

You are slowly but surely making me rethinking my whole career. This isn't what I've signed up for. Not by a long shot.

Don't let poor people live near my house, but please Satan's Anus, build a dog park for Ranger. He loves to frolic.

Don't increase your tax base by selling the property by mine to a developer, but please provide us with more amenities. I don't give a fuck how you pay for them, just don't raise my taxes.

Why come talk to me about my opinions if you won't do what I say, regardless of how counterintuitive it is?

Man, fuck y'all. Fuck all of y'all. It looks like I'm stuck with y'all for the time being. But still, fuck y'all.


Wednesday, June 11, 2008


Today is another one of those days. My boss called in today and decided he'd like to spend this glorious day at home with his wife (who's a teacher and off for the summer) and kids (who, and off for the summer). That leaves me in charge. What that means is I inherit meetings and shit. Responsibility, I got in scads, but meetings I generally avoid, as you readers already know.

I didn't know he wasn't coming in. I didn't know until I turned on my computer today and read the email from him. Today started off badly anyway. I got here at around 9. Work starts at 8. I woke up at 8:30, so I think that's pretty good to get here and 9 and not smell like ass and feet. The thing is people think they NEED everything from the boss. We have an amazing dearth of self starters here, so when I walk in, it's like "Finally, I can be instructed on if and when to breathe." Gosh, I hate these bastards.

The trivial becomes necessary and the necessary becomes an emergency. The questions become dumber.


P.S. Ladies, don't ask me if I'm getting nervous about getting married. The analogy? Say you're about to fuck a dude for the first time. He's about to penetrate, you look down and realize he has four more inches of dick than you've ever taken in your life. Either you can balk and say "Fuck that, he's not putting that monster in me!" Or you can relish the opportunity as a new experience that you might just enjoy. It's not about nerves, it's about being ready for what life holds for you.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Until Somebody Stops Me (The Donut Day edition)

Look at you. Yeah, eat it up. You fuckin' Wal-Mart shopping loser. I'll stand by and make small talk with you, all the while trying to hide my scorn behind this venti cup of latte. That's right. Enjoy those fucking donuts while I fuck you out of your labor rights.

"Why, you're welcome! It's the least I can do for such a hard working staff." False fucking flattery to you dime a dozen muthafuckas. You're cheaper than those donuts!!!! Is this the shit that makes you happy? Me deigning to talk to you mouth breathing bastards? Hunh?

Bold Face Lies
"Of course I'm working to get you more money. You deserve it. Irreplaceable you. Here, have another donut."

False Camaraderie
Yeah, sure. I know exactly what you're going through. I know what it's like to be a sad, sad motherfucker with no marketable skills whatsoever. I also know what it's like to overvalue my importance to a bureaucratic machine, set up for "replacing missing cogs". Yeah. I'm right with you. Look, we're bonding!

Underlying Impatience
"Um, are we finished with the donuts yet? I gotta get back to work. Yeah, I know. I enjoyed this chance to chat too. But duty calls. Ha, ha. Get it? Duty? Doody? This work is like shit! Ha, ha!"

I might have a future as a politician yet.

Be Cool,

Monday, June 09, 2008

No One Hates Brooklyn More Than Me

I love weekends where there's nothing to do but lie around without power. It's actually one of my favorite things, unless of course I want to eat the food that's in my own house. But that's another story. This weekend was actually the weekend I needed, one where I got to navel gaze and ignore the outside world. Where I got to think about me and what I want.

You wanna know what it is that I want? More sleep. All the time. More fucking sleep.

I wish I was an instructor at a girls school. Not a teen girl school, I'm not lookin' for no pervy shit to go down, but a younger girls school. One of the first things I'd let them know is there's a cut off date for using a baby voice to get what you want. And there's also a short list of people that shit will work on. If you're in your twenties or thirties, it will only work with people that want to fuck you. There is no power in appropriating a baby voice outside of that.

What is an art fair that has only two tents with art for sale? Bullshit is what I'd call it, but that's just me. I basically ate an elephant ear and kept it movin'. Fucking fake art fair.

I'm supposed to be thankful to have a job, right? Remind me why again.

Be Easy,

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

My Negro Problem

I've basically been dealing with an increased case of snobbishness for the past few months. I don't know where it's come from, but I'm dealing with Uppity African syndrome and I don't know how to shake it.

I'm no elitist. I come from a blue collar background, with only me and one of my sisters as college grads. My high school was consistently rated last in academic achievement behind the 27 other schools. I'm from the east side of Detroit and went to the "other school" in the state of Michigan. I'm a slob and a ignoramus, but that doesn't stop me from looking down my nose at some other people.

I know this chick that's out of work and she was asking me if I knew of any jobs available. She's looking for some sort of management position. I was instantly offended. What the fuck kind of circle do I run in that I can get a job for a chick that's 10 credits short of a general business degree from The University of Phoenix? I really have no right to try to bag on anybody's self improvement, and virtual campuses are an innovative concept, but fuck that, really. Ain't nobody lettin' you manage shit but a Chicken Shack if that's your primary degree. And that shit hasn't even been obtained yet.

Another person asked me about getting a relative of theirs involved in the work I do. I asked what their major was and got the response that they only had a high school diploma. Muthafucka, that African can clean up the office after the professionals leave.

My problem is inherently a negro problem. We still don't know how the game is played. Certain credentials are "needed" for certain work. I'm not saying that my job can't be done by a grade schooler, but the fact is no one will hire one to do the work.

There are a ton of jobs that take shit like hard work, talent, family connections, etc. to get to a position of power. Those jobs are usually in the entertainment and athletic arenas. All the gigs I know about throw around bullshit about "schooling" and "certification" and "competency". Assholes!

I just wish Africans would stop thinking that a good word from Big Zed is gonna make "the man" forget that credential barrier that he put up to keep us out in the first place. That's all I'm sayin'.