Man, what a difference a few years makes. Yesterday was my 38th birthday. I celebrated by not shoving a shotgun barrel in my mouth and pulling the trigger. It was the weakest, wackest birthday I've had in a long time. Of course, I don't really get to celebrate until this weekend when I'm with my wife, but still, it was pretty rotten.
I had a second interview, this time over the phone, with Ch.arm City. I thought it was a good omen that they set the date on my birthday. Turns out it wasn't that good of an omen. Man, oh man was that a rough interview. Yes, of course Satan's Anus is smaller than Satan's Sandbox, I understand economies of scale and such. Give me a shot. Even if I got through that interview, I still have yet another one to go, which I won't know if I advanced to until mid-January. The wheels of major city bureaucracy moves slowly.
Just looking back on the blog thing and in blog terms, my shit has changed significantly. I started this thing as a bow-tied, 34 year old malcontent. Now I'm a 38 YEAR OLD malcontent who wears fewer bowties!!! That's a lot of change, yo!
Peace,
KZ
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Aimless
I guess this blog is about to get a whole lot more boring. I thought that would eventually happen when I got married, basically your life changes, calms down, and you got less shit to talk about. But that's not the reason it's getting more boring starting right now. It's getting more boring because I'm getting overwhelmed at how pointless my life is. I really do hate my job, the people I work with, the work that I do, and the overall nature of workplace interaction.
I'm working to pay for shit I don't need and a master's degree that didn't do shit in the way of advancing my career. Think about that: I paid for additional education to assist me in a job that I don't like. And the shit didn't even assist me! Ain't that a bitch? The trappings of success have eluded me, but people act like I'm a success. I'm not even happy outside of being with TAD, and we still live two hours away from each other, with weekend visits. I don't even get to enjoy being with my wife during the week.
This shit is so pointless. I'm not making this place a better place to live. I'm not contributing to the growth or success of the people around me. I'm not a better person. I read less and complain more. I feel stuck. I've really prepared and I'm ready to perform any task in my field, but I don't really wanna do this shit. I wanna enjoy my life. This shit ain't enjoyable.
I understand life's not supposed to be all wine and roses, but fuck, it's supposed to be SOME wine and roses. Gotdamn!
KZ
I'm working to pay for shit I don't need and a master's degree that didn't do shit in the way of advancing my career. Think about that: I paid for additional education to assist me in a job that I don't like. And the shit didn't even assist me! Ain't that a bitch? The trappings of success have eluded me, but people act like I'm a success. I'm not even happy outside of being with TAD, and we still live two hours away from each other, with weekend visits. I don't even get to enjoy being with my wife during the week.
This shit is so pointless. I'm not making this place a better place to live. I'm not contributing to the growth or success of the people around me. I'm not a better person. I read less and complain more. I feel stuck. I've really prepared and I'm ready to perform any task in my field, but I don't really wanna do this shit. I wanna enjoy my life. This shit ain't enjoyable.
I understand life's not supposed to be all wine and roses, but fuck, it's supposed to be SOME wine and roses. Gotdamn!
KZ
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Update
Job Hunt
What the fuck, Baltimore? Really, either send me a letter and tell me to fuck off, or call me already. The suspense is killing me. I have a second interview on Monday for a job I don't want (but they'll pay me handsomely) and I'd much rather have the job I want regardless of pay (even though they'll pay handsomely too). Baltimore, what the fuck?
Funky
I thought I wrote about this, but I can't find the post. I give everyone aliases and I can't remember what I called this one chick, but I have a staff person who's deluded. Actually 2 staff people, but I'll only talk about this one. She thinks she has a neutral odor and tells anyone who'll listen that she doesn't bathe daily. In her mind, why bother? Truth be told, I'd never actually smelled her pungent ass, so it wasn't an issue to me, but still...UGH!...bitch, you don't bathe daily? I see you at the gym EVERY SINGLE DAY, and you don't bathe daily? What the fuck?!? Anyway, I had a little meeting with this chick today and **WHAM** for the first time the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. FUCK! That bitch smelled like putrid Limburger. Ah-chee mah-chee! Ladies and gentlemen, I gives a fuck what you've been led to believe about your odor or lack thereof, but please bathe everyday.
Thanksgiving
Enjoy your family. Ignore the ignorable and adore the adorable. That's what the fuck I'mma do.
Peace,
KZ
What the fuck, Baltimore? Really, either send me a letter and tell me to fuck off, or call me already. The suspense is killing me. I have a second interview on Monday for a job I don't want (but they'll pay me handsomely) and I'd much rather have the job I want regardless of pay (even though they'll pay handsomely too). Baltimore, what the fuck?
Funky
I thought I wrote about this, but I can't find the post. I give everyone aliases and I can't remember what I called this one chick, but I have a staff person who's deluded. Actually 2 staff people, but I'll only talk about this one. She thinks she has a neutral odor and tells anyone who'll listen that she doesn't bathe daily. In her mind, why bother? Truth be told, I'd never actually smelled her pungent ass, so it wasn't an issue to me, but still...UGH!...bitch, you don't bathe daily? I see you at the gym EVERY SINGLE DAY, and you don't bathe daily? What the fuck?!? Anyway, I had a little meeting with this chick today and **WHAM** for the first time the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. FUCK! That bitch smelled like putrid Limburger. Ah-chee mah-chee! Ladies and gentlemen, I gives a fuck what you've been led to believe about your odor or lack thereof, but please bathe everyday.
Thanksgiving
Enjoy your family. Ignore the ignorable and adore the adorable. That's what the fuck I'mma do.
Peace,
KZ
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Personality...Or Lack Thereof
So TAD and I got back the professional photos of our wedding. The little guy (physically, this dude would remind you of a prepubescent child) that took the shots really did a good job, as we expected. I'm going through over 1200 digital photos, trying to find 300-400 "keepers", ultimately to get to 30 for the proof book. I'll pick mine, TAD will pick hers and somehow we'll reach a consensus, which really means, she'll get what she wants. I don't mind. It's really a hard choice between these pics. Anyway, as I peruse the photos, I discover something that I think I may have known the whole time: I only have 3 expressions.
My wife's face is so full of personality and expression. I think I could tell exactly what she was thinking at the exact moment each photo of her was taken. Me? All I got is "fat-faced surprise", "fat-faced happiness", and "fat-faced seriousness". That's it. That's my repertoire.
Truthfully, she coulda been faking some emotion on some of those pics. Like looking happy when she was thinking "Fuck! I wish this was over already!", but at least she could put on an expression that conveyed something entirely different. When I was feeling tired by the day's end, all I had was "fat-faced seriousness". I had used up "fat-faced happiness" earlier that day. And, of course, I needed to be genuinely surprised to be captured in "fat-faced surprise" mode.
Except for me and my lack of facial personality, the pics came out great.
Peace,
KZ
My wife's face is so full of personality and expression. I think I could tell exactly what she was thinking at the exact moment each photo of her was taken. Me? All I got is "fat-faced surprise", "fat-faced happiness", and "fat-faced seriousness". That's it. That's my repertoire.
Truthfully, she coulda been faking some emotion on some of those pics. Like looking happy when she was thinking "Fuck! I wish this was over already!", but at least she could put on an expression that conveyed something entirely different. When I was feeling tired by the day's end, all I had was "fat-faced seriousness". I had used up "fat-faced happiness" earlier that day. And, of course, I needed to be genuinely surprised to be captured in "fat-faced surprise" mode.
Except for me and my lack of facial personality, the pics came out great.
Peace,
KZ
Thursday, November 13, 2008
I Know This Is Late, But Here Goes...
What if everybody around you had been born with only 3 limbs, and you were born with 4? Then people told you that if you wanted to be "normal" you'd saw one of your limbs off? You'd probably balk at that idea, right?
Let me give you a more down to earth example. What if at age 10 someone took you from your home with your loving parents and gave you to another family, a family that lived right down the street. Your parents were good and kind to you, gave you all the love in the world, but someone of authority said you didn't belong together and gave you to a family right down the street. You're in a position where you can literally see your parents everyday, but you're not allowed to live with them or interact in any significant way with them.
At what lengths would you go to make your loved ones happy? How far would you go to "save face" and to hold a position of esteem in your community? Would you change your life completely? Commit fraud by intentionally deceiving an innocent person? Would you lie about who you are essentially?
People make insane choices like these everyday, and are forced to live in strange and precarious circumstances. They do it to BELONG and live in a society that needs them and benefits from their creativity and overall contributions. The ones that decide enough is enough and make the decision to live as "others" in our society, regardless of achievement, are treated as though their happiness is somehow predicated on whether or not you know "how to explain it to the children".
Meanwhile, Africans keep acting like animals, killing each other over distorted ideals of respect, lying down and fucking everybody and anybody, making gotdamn babies out of wedlock over and over again, becoming grandparents in their late 30's, then having the nerve to quote fuckin' Bible verses to justify denying people their happiness.
I hold special scorn for the people who funded the "marriage is one man-one woman" initiative, who started their religion practicing polygamy and to this day don't realize that every ritual they perform in their church is derived from Mas.onic rites, courtesy of founder Joseph Smith. For these people and their God-sanctioned underwear and their 1978 decision to allow Black people to enter Heaven, you know you can suck my entire cock. If you're Black and you cast your lot with these motherfuckers, ask yourself when they've ever been on the right side of history.
Man, fuck any and everybody that voted to deny gay people the right to get married. I'm serious. Fuck you.
KZ
Let me give you a more down to earth example. What if at age 10 someone took you from your home with your loving parents and gave you to another family, a family that lived right down the street. Your parents were good and kind to you, gave you all the love in the world, but someone of authority said you didn't belong together and gave you to a family right down the street. You're in a position where you can literally see your parents everyday, but you're not allowed to live with them or interact in any significant way with them.
At what lengths would you go to make your loved ones happy? How far would you go to "save face" and to hold a position of esteem in your community? Would you change your life completely? Commit fraud by intentionally deceiving an innocent person? Would you lie about who you are essentially?
People make insane choices like these everyday, and are forced to live in strange and precarious circumstances. They do it to BELONG and live in a society that needs them and benefits from their creativity and overall contributions. The ones that decide enough is enough and make the decision to live as "others" in our society, regardless of achievement, are treated as though their happiness is somehow predicated on whether or not you know "how to explain it to the children".
Meanwhile, Africans keep acting like animals, killing each other over distorted ideals of respect, lying down and fucking everybody and anybody, making gotdamn babies out of wedlock over and over again, becoming grandparents in their late 30's, then having the nerve to quote fuckin' Bible verses to justify denying people their happiness.
I hold special scorn for the people who funded the "marriage is one man-one woman" initiative, who started their religion practicing polygamy and to this day don't realize that every ritual they perform in their church is derived from Mas.onic rites, courtesy of founder Joseph Smith. For these people and their God-sanctioned underwear and their 1978 decision to allow Black people to enter Heaven, you know you can suck my entire cock. If you're Black and you cast your lot with these motherfuckers, ask yourself when they've ever been on the right side of history.
Man, fuck any and everybody that voted to deny gay people the right to get married. I'm serious. Fuck you.
KZ
Friday, November 07, 2008
Man, Fuck...
I was leaving work yesterday, going to get something to eat before my evening meeting, about to make a right turn on the massive one way street called Michigan Avenue. I looked to the right, just out of instinct, because, of course, there was no traffic coming from that direction, and inched the nose of my car past the sidewalk. I looked to my left and saw that traffic was still coming at a steady rate. I looked back to my left, and out of nowhere, a filthy, middle aged toothless Black man was on his bike, standing right next to my passenger side window.
"You pulled out and made me hit your tire!"
"What?"
"You pulled out on the sidewalk and made me hit your tire. You got my chest and heart all hurtin'!"
"You sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'!"
"Are you sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'?"
"Man, what do you want from me? You wanna sue me? What do you want?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'. At least you could give me money for a hamburger or somethin'."
"Man, fuck you. Sue me. Take down my license plate, n*gga."
And I sped off, hoping to just go get a quick meal before this night meeting.
I stopped about 3/4 of a mile down Michigan at this restaurant. I parked across the street and headed to the crosswalk. In front of me at the crosswalk was a lady (and I use this term generously) listening to her iPod. She was a large woman dressed as though she was a trucker or a longshoreman. She looked over her shoulder and saw me standing there. Then she apparently heard something too good to stand still for in her earphones, because at that moment she started suggestively shaking her enormous trucker ass in my direction.
That's when I knew everybody here was as crazy as I thought they were. Every fucking day it's something new. Meanwhile, my wife lives a billion miles away and my job sucks dick. Man, fuck...
KZ
"You pulled out and made me hit your tire!"
"What?"
"You pulled out on the sidewalk and made me hit your tire. You got my chest and heart all hurtin'!"
"You sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'!"
"Are you sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'?"
"Man, what do you want from me? You wanna sue me? What do you want?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'. At least you could give me money for a hamburger or somethin'."
"Man, fuck you. Sue me. Take down my license plate, n*gga."
And I sped off, hoping to just go get a quick meal before this night meeting.
I stopped about 3/4 of a mile down Michigan at this restaurant. I parked across the street and headed to the crosswalk. In front of me at the crosswalk was a lady (and I use this term generously) listening to her iPod. She was a large woman dressed as though she was a trucker or a longshoreman. She looked over her shoulder and saw me standing there. Then she apparently heard something too good to stand still for in her earphones, because at that moment she started suggestively shaking her enormous trucker ass in my direction.
That's when I knew everybody here was as crazy as I thought they were. Every fucking day it's something new. Meanwhile, my wife lives a billion miles away and my job sucks dick. Man, fuck...
KZ
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Dolphin Dick and Other Discoveries
Did you know that my wedding photos are available for viewing if you just email me and ask?
Did you know that my wife was so creative? And so beautiful?
Did you know that my father is such a softie? "Something in my eye" my ass!
Did you know that I have the world's baddest nephew?
Did you know that Robyn has such a suave son?
Did you know that my frat brothers would be on point for the first time in their miserable lives?
Did you know that sometimes it rains non-stop in Cancun over the period of an entire week, forcing one to stay indoors make love to his beautiful new wife for hours on end?
Did you know dolphins were packing dick? Straight weapons, yo.
Do you know how annoying natives in Cancun are when they're trying to sell you shit?
Do you know how afraid I am of flying? It'll be a minute.
Did you know I am still off work and in Detroit while my wife works for a living? I get to be home being a househusband for a week.
I'll talk to y'all later!
KZ
Did you know that my wife was so creative? And so beautiful?
Did you know that my father is such a softie? "Something in my eye" my ass!
Did you know that I have the world's baddest nephew?
Did you know that Robyn has such a suave son?
Did you know that my frat brothers would be on point for the first time in their miserable lives?
Did you know that sometimes it rains non-stop in Cancun over the period of an entire week, forcing one to stay indoors make love to his beautiful new wife for hours on end?
Did you know dolphins were packing dick? Straight weapons, yo.
Do you know how annoying natives in Cancun are when they're trying to sell you shit?
Do you know how afraid I am of flying? It'll be a minute.
Did you know I am still off work and in Detroit while my wife works for a living? I get to be home being a househusband for a week.
I'll talk to y'all later!
KZ
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Yucatan Peninsula...
is where I'm sitting. My wife is sleeping and I'm watching TV with Spanish overdubbing.
I'm tired. Talk to y'all later.
KZ
I'm tired. Talk to y'all later.
KZ
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Socially Unacceptable
The more I pay attention to myself, the weirder I think I am.
I was really craving GOOD coffee this morning, but I didn't feel like making any on my great office one cup machine. I love the machine, but I hate cleaning it afterwards. So I was going on a trek to get coffee. Then I realized the last time I went into the coffee shop down the street, I got caught up in this long conversation with the new owner. It seems this guy was a food service person at this place where the City always holds it's retreats. He served us at that retreat I talked about last month. He remembered me and he was very nice. The coffee is great and we had a nice conversation. That's probably the last time I'll ever go in that coffee shop again.
You see, he fucked up my coffee spot by talking to me beyond what was needed to get me my coffee. I didn't come in there for a nice conversation. I liked the old owner, the muthafucka who served me coffee and took my money, with only a few pleasantries in between. This cat will fuck my mornings up if I go in there. I don't wanna talk to nobody about shit.
So this guy, who remembers faces and who is friendly and kind, has just lost a customer for no good reason. It's just the way it's gotta be. I have to be me.
KZ
I was really craving GOOD coffee this morning, but I didn't feel like making any on my great office one cup machine. I love the machine, but I hate cleaning it afterwards. So I was going on a trek to get coffee. Then I realized the last time I went into the coffee shop down the street, I got caught up in this long conversation with the new owner. It seems this guy was a food service person at this place where the City always holds it's retreats. He served us at that retreat I talked about last month. He remembered me and he was very nice. The coffee is great and we had a nice conversation. That's probably the last time I'll ever go in that coffee shop again.
You see, he fucked up my coffee spot by talking to me beyond what was needed to get me my coffee. I didn't come in there for a nice conversation. I liked the old owner, the muthafucka who served me coffee and took my money, with only a few pleasantries in between. This cat will fuck my mornings up if I go in there. I don't wanna talk to nobody about shit.
So this guy, who remembers faces and who is friendly and kind, has just lost a customer for no good reason. It's just the way it's gotta be. I have to be me.
KZ
Monday, October 13, 2008
Patience
I had a chance to have a good long talk with my friend, Three yesterday. It was full of details on the bachelor party he's gonna miss and the general nature of my patience, or lack thereof.
For the record, he knows that I could give a fuck less about a bachelor party, but it would've been good to see all my boys in one place for a big alcohol filled night. So I basically called him so I could call him a muthafucka for not making the trip. Muthafucka.
What this wise sage of man did impart to me was his vast knowledge of patience and his familiarity of my lack of it. It's always funny listening to a muthafucka who ain't married, ain't never been married, and likely will never get married talking to me about marriage. Bastard. That being said, he made some pretty good points about knowing how I am.
First off, I suck at telling anybody anything because I expect them to know what I'm talking about with a minimum of words. I fucking hate talking, so I always take shortcuts, hence, a bunch of misunderstandings.
Secondly, I can't help but to question one's intelligence if I have to tell them something twice. After I tell somebody something for the second time, seriously, fuck them. Because I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and they blew it.
Thirdly, nothing ever changes. You can talk until you're blue in the face, and people don't listen to shit you have to say most of the time. Why waste your time saying it? There is no reason.
And fourth, I know that people are COMFORTABLE BEING COMFORTABLE and will do as little as possible to increase your comfort while decreasing theirs, in the name of love or whatever. Half-assedness abounds. Either you accept it or you don't.
I thought this time here in Satan's Anus has made me better, but I think it's made me worse. More anti-social, because I hate the way people react to the shit I say or don't say, more irresponsible, because fuck living up to a commitment to hang or go to a barbeque when you don't give a fuck whether or not you lose that person's friendship, more evil, because fuck everybody else, really.
That's about it.
KZ
For the record, he knows that I could give a fuck less about a bachelor party, but it would've been good to see all my boys in one place for a big alcohol filled night. So I basically called him so I could call him a muthafucka for not making the trip. Muthafucka.
What this wise sage of man did impart to me was his vast knowledge of patience and his familiarity of my lack of it. It's always funny listening to a muthafucka who ain't married, ain't never been married, and likely will never get married talking to me about marriage. Bastard. That being said, he made some pretty good points about knowing how I am.
First off, I suck at telling anybody anything because I expect them to know what I'm talking about with a minimum of words. I fucking hate talking, so I always take shortcuts, hence, a bunch of misunderstandings.
Secondly, I can't help but to question one's intelligence if I have to tell them something twice. After I tell somebody something for the second time, seriously, fuck them. Because I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and they blew it.
Thirdly, nothing ever changes. You can talk until you're blue in the face, and people don't listen to shit you have to say most of the time. Why waste your time saying it? There is no reason.
And fourth, I know that people are COMFORTABLE BEING COMFORTABLE and will do as little as possible to increase your comfort while decreasing theirs, in the name of love or whatever. Half-assedness abounds. Either you accept it or you don't.
I thought this time here in Satan's Anus has made me better, but I think it's made me worse. More anti-social, because I hate the way people react to the shit I say or don't say, more irresponsible, because fuck living up to a commitment to hang or go to a barbeque when you don't give a fuck whether or not you lose that person's friendship, more evil, because fuck everybody else, really.
That's about it.
KZ
Friday, October 10, 2008
Green Tea
"Why would God give you a passion and a talent to do something and then say 'If you follow that, I'm not gon' let you eat!'?"- Anthony Rodman
The funniest shit I've read in a while: McCain supporters are getting REALLY riled up and angry with this campaign. They are fighting mad!!!
I don't even know what that shit means. I mean, do you get TWO votes if you're really, REALLY angry? I mean, McCain supporters are just that, McCain supporters. If there are less of them than there are of Obama supporters, who gives if fuck if they're angry now. Are they gonna strong arm people walking into voting booths and say "Gotdamn it, you better vote for MY guy!!!" If anger mattered that much, we'd be looking at the re-election campaign of President Kerry. So really, fuck a McCain supporter, win or lose.
Anyway, on to another topic. There's this dude I know here named Anthony Rodman, who's actually been a very good friend. We were talking the other day, 'cuz that's what we do, I meet with him for lunch and he lets me vent. I went on to tell him about writing and how much I love to write. I talked about embarking on a new phase of my life and I needed stability to support a family, but I just didn't have any passion for what I'm doing. That's when he gave me that awesome quote at the top. Thanks, muthafucka! Now I'll try to feed my wife and kids some essays!
As hectic and complicated as it is trying to be ready for this wedding, people complicate it more. I'm currently in the running for 3 gigs. These 3 gigs have asked me for, amongst other things, an unprecedented TEN references, asked me to take personality tests, online interviews using webcams, write career assessment essays, and a host of other bullshit. All this while trying to finish work that will sit on my desk unless I do it before I leave, since I'll be out from October 15-November 3. On October 16, two days before I get married, I have to fly to M.aryland for a job interview, fly back the same day, and go get my final fitting for my tux. They couldn't change the gotdamn date. They've been sitting on my fucking resume for at least 4 months, and NOW they're on some ol' "time is of the essence" bullshit. Fuck y'all, Cha.rm City, fuck y'all right in the ass.
All this so I can continue to work in a field I don't have a passion for. Maybe Anthony is right. Time will tell.
Peace,
KZ
The funniest shit I've read in a while: McCain supporters are getting REALLY riled up and angry with this campaign. They are fighting mad!!!
I don't even know what that shit means. I mean, do you get TWO votes if you're really, REALLY angry? I mean, McCain supporters are just that, McCain supporters. If there are less of them than there are of Obama supporters, who gives if fuck if they're angry now. Are they gonna strong arm people walking into voting booths and say "Gotdamn it, you better vote for MY guy!!!" If anger mattered that much, we'd be looking at the re-election campaign of President Kerry. So really, fuck a McCain supporter, win or lose.
Anyway, on to another topic. There's this dude I know here named Anthony Rodman, who's actually been a very good friend. We were talking the other day, 'cuz that's what we do, I meet with him for lunch and he lets me vent. I went on to tell him about writing and how much I love to write. I talked about embarking on a new phase of my life and I needed stability to support a family, but I just didn't have any passion for what I'm doing. That's when he gave me that awesome quote at the top. Thanks, muthafucka! Now I'll try to feed my wife and kids some essays!
As hectic and complicated as it is trying to be ready for this wedding, people complicate it more. I'm currently in the running for 3 gigs. These 3 gigs have asked me for, amongst other things, an unprecedented TEN references, asked me to take personality tests, online interviews using webcams, write career assessment essays, and a host of other bullshit. All this while trying to finish work that will sit on my desk unless I do it before I leave, since I'll be out from October 15-November 3. On October 16, two days before I get married, I have to fly to M.aryland for a job interview, fly back the same day, and go get my final fitting for my tux. They couldn't change the gotdamn date. They've been sitting on my fucking resume for at least 4 months, and NOW they're on some ol' "time is of the essence" bullshit. Fuck y'all, Cha.rm City, fuck y'all right in the ass.
All this so I can continue to work in a field I don't have a passion for. Maybe Anthony is right. Time will tell.
Peace,
KZ
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
The Age Of Nefarious
I spent my Saturday in East Lansing, at homecoming. Tailgating and shit. Drinking free brew with the Black Alumni Association. I was with a couple of my groomsmen and shit, plus a bunch of other people I could give a fuck less about. There is a direct correlation, at least in my feeble brain, between how obnoxious muthafuckas were as undergrads to how much money they make right now. The more obnoxious, the more paid they seem to be. And the thing is they're STILL obnoxious!!! It might be worse! Man, fuck these people!
I spent a lot of time talking to my friend, Jesus. I'm not being metaphorical, muthafuckas. I have a friend, from undergrad, who's given name is Jesus. Not Hay-Soose, Jesus. This always made people uncomfortable. Nobody ever wanted to say his name. They'd call him J.C. and shit (yes, those are his actual initials), but not me. I wasn't religious anyway, and his name was his name, so fuck it, I'mma call you Jesus.
Anyway, after listening to women who I don't give a fuck about bitchin' because I'm getting married AGAIN and I didn't look their way, I was reminiscing with Jesus. Sure enough, every chick I know came past with some variation on "Well look at this, Jesus and Satan!" "Hey, everybody, it's Jesus and Lucifer!" Hilarious! Sidesplitting! Eh. They irritated me so much, it made me walk away from my friend. Forgive me Jesus.
Afterwards, me and Hutty, my best man, and his wife and her friends left campus and went to eat. Hutty was one of those obnoxious undergrads I was talking about. He's still obnoxious and makes boatloads of fucking money, hand over gotdamn fist. I watched that African belittle and embarass his wife in front of her friends for at least two good hours at this BBQ joint. It was an amazing display of assholery, completely fearless. And at the end of the night, she was still like she's always been, in love with his pockets. And THAT'S what the fuck money can do for you, gentlemen.
Be Cool,
KZ
I spent a lot of time talking to my friend, Jesus. I'm not being metaphorical, muthafuckas. I have a friend, from undergrad, who's given name is Jesus. Not Hay-Soose, Jesus. This always made people uncomfortable. Nobody ever wanted to say his name. They'd call him J.C. and shit (yes, those are his actual initials), but not me. I wasn't religious anyway, and his name was his name, so fuck it, I'mma call you Jesus.
Anyway, after listening to women who I don't give a fuck about bitchin' because I'm getting married AGAIN and I didn't look their way, I was reminiscing with Jesus. Sure enough, every chick I know came past with some variation on "Well look at this, Jesus and Satan!" "Hey, everybody, it's Jesus and Lucifer!" Hilarious! Sidesplitting! Eh. They irritated me so much, it made me walk away from my friend. Forgive me Jesus.
Afterwards, me and Hutty, my best man, and his wife and her friends left campus and went to eat. Hutty was one of those obnoxious undergrads I was talking about. He's still obnoxious and makes boatloads of fucking money, hand over gotdamn fist. I watched that African belittle and embarass his wife in front of her friends for at least two good hours at this BBQ joint. It was an amazing display of assholery, completely fearless. And at the end of the night, she was still like she's always been, in love with his pockets. And THAT'S what the fuck money can do for you, gentlemen.
Be Cool,
KZ
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Slut On The Wall
Hey peoples, what's good? I'm trying to pass along information to my women friends, women who keep complaining about other women. The problem is, they don't listen, they don't read my blog, and they don't know about my blog, so it's kind of hard to convey this information to them. I hope you pass this along to people who need it.
Men fucking love slutty women and women in slutty clothes in general. The only time I've ever heard men complain about slutty women is when that woman decides not to give THEM the pussy. They never complain about women who dress slutty, except when she's related to them. Well, there is one other time. They complain about women who dress slutty when they see them out and their wives/girlfriends are with them. Ladies, this is the oldest trick in the book. It buys them a few more minutes to look at the ass and titties while pretending to be critical of the lady's morals. It's bullshit. A man has never complained to another man about some slutty dressing woman. It doesn't happen, ever.
As much as y'all hate and despise these women for dressing and acting "loose", I need you to understand one thing. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men", you want that slut on the wall, you NEED that slut on the wall. That slut is the cure for erectile dysfunction and general boredom. The memory, the ideal, of that slut is what gives that dude a hard-on when you wear that hideous flannel nightgown and giant panties with a panel in the front to bed night after night and then want to act in an amorous fashion. His ability to recall that slutty chick is the entire reason for your sex life. Whether she's in his office or working at Starbucks, that chick is almost certainly the saving grace of your fragile ass relationship.
So the next time you want to crash on some skimpily clad young nubile, take a deep breath and muster up a smile for her. You are in a symbiotic relationship. She's the other monkey picking the fleas off your monkey ass.
Peace,
KZ
Men fucking love slutty women and women in slutty clothes in general. The only time I've ever heard men complain about slutty women is when that woman decides not to give THEM the pussy. They never complain about women who dress slutty, except when she's related to them. Well, there is one other time. They complain about women who dress slutty when they see them out and their wives/girlfriends are with them. Ladies, this is the oldest trick in the book. It buys them a few more minutes to look at the ass and titties while pretending to be critical of the lady's morals. It's bullshit. A man has never complained to another man about some slutty dressing woman. It doesn't happen, ever.
As much as y'all hate and despise these women for dressing and acting "loose", I need you to understand one thing. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men", you want that slut on the wall, you NEED that slut on the wall. That slut is the cure for erectile dysfunction and general boredom. The memory, the ideal, of that slut is what gives that dude a hard-on when you wear that hideous flannel nightgown and giant panties with a panel in the front to bed night after night and then want to act in an amorous fashion. His ability to recall that slutty chick is the entire reason for your sex life. Whether she's in his office or working at Starbucks, that chick is almost certainly the saving grace of your fragile ass relationship.
So the next time you want to crash on some skimpily clad young nubile, take a deep breath and muster up a smile for her. You are in a symbiotic relationship. She's the other monkey picking the fleas off your monkey ass.
Peace,
KZ
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Liquor and Cookies
Muthafuckas don't know that they're insane. You know they're insane, but them themselves? Not so much. I try to remember that when I'm at work, because it makes my interaction with insane people go a lot smoother. I mean, how can you get mad at someone who doesn't know better?
So, when I'm sitting at my desk trying to make sure people get their homes assessed for flood damage so that they can potentially qualify for FEMA (ha!) aid, I can ignore my secretary busting in the door like the building is on fire to ask me if I want some doughnuts somebody brought. Hell, I can even ignore the loud black receptionist who's obviously on a personal call during this mini-emergency. Well, either she's on a personal call or she's telling a resident about what the doctor found whilst fiddling around her vajayjay. It could be either one of those, right? It's not like we don't have a multi-million dollar budget and we're called to recoup half that operating budget through fees, permits, inspections and citations all of which must be handled by the receptionists. Oh, wait a minute, it IS like that!
I'm able to forgive bouts of insanity by all my staff, like my staff person who thinks it's OK for her husband to come visit her EVERY MORNING with their two small kids. Yeah, I get that you miss that smelly bitch, but EVERY MORNING? She just left home, dude!
What I'm not able to ignore is Wispy. Wispy is like the office "Glenn Close". She will not be ignored. She comes in my office squealing on everybody. She's got on a "No Snitching" t-shirt with a Ghostbusters line drawn through it. Not literally, but damn, she was tellin' on everybody. She ended her tirade by crying REAL TEARS because the other receptionists hate her. They hate her because she's better at her job than they are. I foolishly ask "It's not because they know you tell on them?" Heaven's to Betsy! No! That's not it! It's jealousy, according to the wispy one. "I was talking to them about Cloris Leachman on Dancing with The Stars and they just ignored me!" Big, huge, super teardrops started poring out then. It was amazing.
"Wispy, I can't make them like you, but anything that affects the function of this office, I'll address."
She walked out of the office crying. And I couldn't think of what I wanted more at that point to comfort me. Either (or both) would do me a world of good.
Peace,
KZ
So, when I'm sitting at my desk trying to make sure people get their homes assessed for flood damage so that they can potentially qualify for FEMA (ha!) aid, I can ignore my secretary busting in the door like the building is on fire to ask me if I want some doughnuts somebody brought. Hell, I can even ignore the loud black receptionist who's obviously on a personal call during this mini-emergency. Well, either she's on a personal call or she's telling a resident about what the doctor found whilst fiddling around her vajayjay. It could be either one of those, right? It's not like we don't have a multi-million dollar budget and we're called to recoup half that operating budget through fees, permits, inspections and citations all of which must be handled by the receptionists. Oh, wait a minute, it IS like that!
I'm able to forgive bouts of insanity by all my staff, like my staff person who thinks it's OK for her husband to come visit her EVERY MORNING with their two small kids. Yeah, I get that you miss that smelly bitch, but EVERY MORNING? She just left home, dude!
What I'm not able to ignore is Wispy. Wispy is like the office "Glenn Close". She will not be ignored. She comes in my office squealing on everybody. She's got on a "No Snitching" t-shirt with a Ghostbusters line drawn through it. Not literally, but damn, she was tellin' on everybody. She ended her tirade by crying REAL TEARS because the other receptionists hate her. They hate her because she's better at her job than they are. I foolishly ask "It's not because they know you tell on them?" Heaven's to Betsy! No! That's not it! It's jealousy, according to the wispy one. "I was talking to them about Cloris Leachman on Dancing with The Stars and they just ignored me!" Big, huge, super teardrops started poring out then. It was amazing.
"Wispy, I can't make them like you, but anything that affects the function of this office, I'll address."
She walked out of the office crying. And I couldn't think of what I wanted more at that point to comfort me. Either (or both) would do me a world of good.
Peace,
KZ
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Barnacles
This dumb assed person who lives here (I refuse to refer to her as my friend anymore), Agent Zero, just got a foster child in her care. The baby is really, really new. Around a week and half old. She's a single mother with two teenagers and a full time gig, so she's busy as heck. The baby is taking up a grip of her time, but somehow she's managing. She asks me if I wanna see the baby.
KZ: Uh, no.
AZ: What? Everybody wants to see the baby. Why don't you?
KZ: I don't give a fuck about a baby. Fuck a baby.
AZ: What? Are you serious or are you just pulling some ol' Detroit shit*?
KZ: I'm dead serious. I don't fuckin' like kids.
AZ: How could you not like kids?
KZ: I just don't. I don't think about it. Other people's kids are fucking irritating. And when you try to tell them about their kids, they fucking get defensive. If I can't hit 'em, I don't want 'em the fuck around me.
AZ: You don't really mean that, do you?
KZ: Really and truly.
AZ: I can't understand how anyone could not like kids.
KZ: I don't understand how anyone could not like pussy. But I'm surrounded by straight women and gay men. I don't judge y'all, I just accept that shit. That's a two-way street. Accept that I don't like kids.
AZ: You are unbelieveable. You on that Detroit shit.
Her kids are Exhibit A in why I fuckin' hate kids. Those fucking kids interrupt her constantly on the phone, beg constantly,they're irresponsible, talk back, and they're lazy fucking kids. My mother woulda kept her foot in our asses. I blame her and I hope they find another home for that baby before she's able to raise him the same way she raised those other irritating little bastards. Arrrrgggggghhhhh!!!!
KZ
*This is Satan's Anus code for being belligerent or cynical. You gotta be on some "Detroit shit" if you don't trust white people completely or if you don't take being treated second class lying down.
KZ: Uh, no.
AZ: What? Everybody wants to see the baby. Why don't you?
KZ: I don't give a fuck about a baby. Fuck a baby.
AZ: What? Are you serious or are you just pulling some ol' Detroit shit*?
KZ: I'm dead serious. I don't fuckin' like kids.
AZ: How could you not like kids?
KZ: I just don't. I don't think about it. Other people's kids are fucking irritating. And when you try to tell them about their kids, they fucking get defensive. If I can't hit 'em, I don't want 'em the fuck around me.
AZ: You don't really mean that, do you?
KZ: Really and truly.
AZ: I can't understand how anyone could not like kids.
KZ: I don't understand how anyone could not like pussy. But I'm surrounded by straight women and gay men. I don't judge y'all, I just accept that shit. That's a two-way street. Accept that I don't like kids.
AZ: You are unbelieveable. You on that Detroit shit.
Her kids are Exhibit A in why I fuckin' hate kids. Those fucking kids interrupt her constantly on the phone, beg constantly,they're irresponsible, talk back, and they're lazy fucking kids. My mother woulda kept her foot in our asses. I blame her and I hope they find another home for that baby before she's able to raise him the same way she raised those other irritating little bastards. Arrrrgggggghhhhh!!!!
KZ
*This is Satan's Anus code for being belligerent or cynical. You gotta be on some "Detroit shit" if you don't trust white people completely or if you don't take being treated second class lying down.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Friend To Hip Hop and Animals and Such
What up folks? It's me, Zed. Zed Zednanreh. I'm chillin' in the office today after spending yesterday driving back and forth to Detroit. I had a job interview, for the first time in many months, in a suburb of the D. It's far from my ideal gig, but it'll do in a pinch.
At the interview, they asked me several questions that I bullshitted and answered half assedly. If they offer me the job, I'll know they are quite stupid. I gave it my best shot, but I really wasn't all that prepared. You ask me specific questions about your specific problems and I have little insight to the information at hand, and you got yourself a half assed guess.
After the interview I got to eat lunch with TAD in one of my old stomping grounds. The food was good, the company was better. After that, I had to go get measured for my tux. The good news is that I went down a suit size after 10 1/2 weeks of working out 6 days a week and dieting I finally saw some tangible results.
Once again, I got to drive home and clear my head. It's not such a bad drive if gas was cheaper. It's not that bad at all.
KZ
At the interview, they asked me several questions that I bullshitted and answered half assedly. If they offer me the job, I'll know they are quite stupid. I gave it my best shot, but I really wasn't all that prepared. You ask me specific questions about your specific problems and I have little insight to the information at hand, and you got yourself a half assed guess.
After the interview I got to eat lunch with TAD in one of my old stomping grounds. The food was good, the company was better. After that, I had to go get measured for my tux. The good news is that I went down a suit size after 10 1/2 weeks of working out 6 days a week and dieting I finally saw some tangible results.
Once again, I got to drive home and clear my head. It's not such a bad drive if gas was cheaper. It's not that bad at all.
KZ
Monday, September 08, 2008
Mildly Retarded
So Friday, we had to go on a management retreat to discuss who we are and our "feelings". This type of shit rankles me to no end. Why? Because it's really none of your gotdamn business what makes me tick. It's your business to ask me to perform a task and it's my business to perform that task. Fuck how I tick, you tick, or the gotdamn public ticks.
The job can only give me half of what makes me tick. Until the job grows a pussy, they're fucked as far as my complete satisfaction goes. Fuck them for wanting that much information. I don't want that much information from the staff I'm over. Just do what the fuck I tell you to do. I don't give a fuck about your job satisfaction, just do what the fuck I say.
Maybe I'm a little off, maybe slightly mentally deficient, but in this little barter system we have set up, I figure either I do the job I get paid for or I get replaced. Who gives a fuck as to what motivates me to perform. You gotta work to eat, as the saying goes.
Man, fuck this whole place entirely.
KZ
The job can only give me half of what makes me tick. Until the job grows a pussy, they're fucked as far as my complete satisfaction goes. Fuck them for wanting that much information. I don't want that much information from the staff I'm over. Just do what the fuck I tell you to do. I don't give a fuck about your job satisfaction, just do what the fuck I say.
Maybe I'm a little off, maybe slightly mentally deficient, but in this little barter system we have set up, I figure either I do the job I get paid for or I get replaced. Who gives a fuck as to what motivates me to perform. You gotta work to eat, as the saying goes.
Man, fuck this whole place entirely.
KZ
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