Wonderful Boss
ain't that an oxymoron
a contradiction
of ample proportion
a caricature
a metaphoric contortion
set upon me
by a spiteful corporation
to crack that whip
keep me forever in motion
(sic)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
I am an animal.... Grrrrrrrrr!
Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck by the difference between what things are and what they ought to be. --William Hazlitt
And there I was thinking that the reason I cry when watching movies by myself or reading touching stories had something to do with me being overly sensitive; and that my ability to laugh at the drop of a joke was due to my refined sense of humor.
Boy am I relieved... I am a man afterall (sic)... An animal... basal in nature... driven to tears, and even laughter sometimes, by the frustration of those very base instincts that apparently make me who I am..... A man.
An animal that can tell when it's not getting what it wants and cries; and when it is getting way more than it deserves and laughs.... But what does that have to do with weeping in the movies and laughing at another's joke?
I know... I am a confused animal.... but a man all the same:)
And there I was thinking that the reason I cry when watching movies by myself or reading touching stories had something to do with me being overly sensitive; and that my ability to laugh at the drop of a joke was due to my refined sense of humor.
Boy am I relieved... I am a man afterall (sic)... An animal... basal in nature... driven to tears, and even laughter sometimes, by the frustration of those very base instincts that apparently make me who I am..... A man.
An animal that can tell when it's not getting what it wants and cries; and when it is getting way more than it deserves and laughs.... But what does that have to do with weeping in the movies and laughing at another's joke?
I know... I am a confused animal.... but a man all the same:)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tagged.... Finally,
after waiting in vain for my considerate friends to tag me, I've decided to take matters into my own hand and tagged myself. Oh Yes I just did. Amma do the four things tag thing but since I tagged myself, I'll only follow the rules I fancy.
.
FOUR THINGS I’M PASSIONATE ABOUT
Passionate... Well I don't know... I tried to put passion... intense passion into everything and everyone I did... Unfortunately, I found there was not enough passion to go around..... In all honesty, I don't know if there is anything I am passionate about.
FOUR WORDS OR PHRASES THAT I USE A LOT
I use a lot of words but in equal proportions... I'm fair minded like that.
FOUR THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE
Don't tell anyone, but I am working on the key to immortality which means that I don't have to worry about the other three.
Four things I learnt while getting my teeth cleaned
>That my lips can stretch and distort in all shapes and manner. I will no longer doubt the validity of those mouthy girls in porn flicks.
>It's terribly hard, nigh impossible, to be funny and sound it while in the dentists chair.
>According to the poster on my dental hygienist's wall, ....One can get by with charm alone for only about fifteen minutes... after that you had better have huge boobs or a long willy. Which would explain my involuntary abstinence. My fifteen minute stint has been over for a long minute now and as for size..... well, the jury's still out on that one. I guess they are trying to redifine the phrase - hung jury.
>That when life throws a lemon at you, you are better off ducking and finding cover... there is a lot more lemons where that came from.FOUR THINGS THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN YESTERDAY
Beats me... they didn't happen.. right. Other than not being tagged by all y'all, I don't know what else didn't happen. Now I'm going to return the favor and not tag you all.
Cheers!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Kei is fishing fry:
"I too only have one love, but unlike Our Kid...mine is drinking... it is after I drink that I suffer from these illusions of talent... I start to think that I can dance, sing, charm etcetera etcetera... And fortunately or unfortunately, I sometimes think I can write and actually attempt to" Kei commenting on Shiko's post on blogging under the influence.
So what do you get when you cross fresh salmon, corn, tomatoes, onions, parsley, basil leaves, oregano powder, lemon pepper and a 350 degrees preheated oven?
What? Don't look at us... we don't know either. Perhaps you should ask the Worcester Fire Department what they found when they broke down the door to his(K's) smoking apartment... Turns out he he forgot he was cooking and went 'black to the future'.
Why cook and drink when you can fry and smoke......
So what do you get when you cross fresh salmon, corn, tomatoes, onions, parsley, basil leaves, oregano powder, lemon pepper and a 350 degrees preheated oven?
What? Don't look at us... we don't know either. Perhaps you should ask the Worcester Fire Department what they found when they broke down the door to his(K's) smoking apartment... Turns out he he forgot he was cooking and went 'black to the future'.
Why cook and drink when you can fry and smoke......
Monday, March 2, 2009
Monday! Need I say more?
"Cuckaa kooo...koooo" an overzealous cockerel, quite intent on delivering in its self appointed role as my rouser, takes a few seconds to regain its breath before starting all over...... "cuckaa....."
There is little comfort in this unwelcome intrusion as I struggle to gather my wits about me: I am hanging precariously over a bottomless precipice, my right hand clutching desperately at the last vestiges of peaceful slumber and the left fastly tied to the dawning of a new day; My legs hang lifeless below me.
The crowing jars my senses, almost causing me to lose my grip.... My grip on a shifty reality that is almost as slippery as the post-coitus rubber that is now standing between the weary fingers of my right hand and a firm grip on the.... Slowly and surely at first, and then fast but just as surely, that one hand starts to slip then slides... The smell of burning rubber, putrid and intoxicating... almost knocks me out.
Soon, it (the right hand) is hanging limply by my side and I am peering fearfully into the darkness below me andI can feel the ligaments and tendons on the opposite shoulder stretch beyond their limits. I'd hear them tear, I'm sure, were it not for the incessant crowing of this darn cock.
I turn my head up, and have to squint against the rays of a just rising sun... to see the ugly face of sobriety peering down at me. I can barely make out the outline, the silhouette is blurry at best, and it seems far and out of reach; but that won't stop me from reaching out and trying to slap the sneer off of its face.
"Cuckaa kooo...koooo" That noise is unbearably loud... I'd reach up and cover up my ears but that is out of the question. Instead, I swing my right hand in the direction from which the light is coming... I miss hitting the ugly face but it lands on the rugged edge of this hole I am in. It feels around for something to hang on to. It takes a moment before it finally lands on something. Excitedly, I wrap nimble fingers around it and give it a little tug to test its strength. It gives without much effort and my hand comes away with it.
"Cuckaa kooo...koooo" The noise shifts as I hold on to this strange object and the closer I bring it to my face, the louder it gets. I bring it as close as my ears will allow and open my eyes.... I have to squint hard to be able to see what the hell it is.
8:15 AM it says.... Stop or Snooze.
There is little comfort in this unwelcome intrusion as I struggle to gather my wits about me: I am hanging precariously over a bottomless precipice, my right hand clutching desperately at the last vestiges of peaceful slumber and the left fastly tied to the dawning of a new day; My legs hang lifeless below me.
The crowing jars my senses, almost causing me to lose my grip.... My grip on a shifty reality that is almost as slippery as the post-coitus rubber that is now standing between the weary fingers of my right hand and a firm grip on the.... Slowly and surely at first, and then fast but just as surely, that one hand starts to slip then slides... The smell of burning rubber, putrid and intoxicating... almost knocks me out.
Soon, it (the right hand) is hanging limply by my side and I am peering fearfully into the darkness below me andI can feel the ligaments and tendons on the opposite shoulder stretch beyond their limits. I'd hear them tear, I'm sure, were it not for the incessant crowing of this darn cock.
I turn my head up, and have to squint against the rays of a just rising sun... to see the ugly face of sobriety peering down at me. I can barely make out the outline, the silhouette is blurry at best, and it seems far and out of reach; but that won't stop me from reaching out and trying to slap the sneer off of its face.
"Cuckaa kooo...koooo" That noise is unbearably loud... I'd reach up and cover up my ears but that is out of the question. Instead, I swing my right hand in the direction from which the light is coming... I miss hitting the ugly face but it lands on the rugged edge of this hole I am in. It feels around for something to hang on to. It takes a moment before it finally lands on something. Excitedly, I wrap nimble fingers around it and give it a little tug to test its strength. It gives without much effort and my hand comes away with it.
"Cuckaa kooo...koooo" The noise shifts as I hold on to this strange object and the closer I bring it to my face, the louder it gets. I bring it as close as my ears will allow and open my eyes.... I have to squint hard to be able to see what the hell it is.
8:15 AM it says.... Stop or Snooze.
"Oh! Shiznit!"
That was last week. Today I woke up and rediscovered the joys of sleeping sober. Coming to three quarters of an hour before my annoying alarm went off... I turned over and finished what I had started last night. I was still late, but I walked into the office with an ache and a self-satisfied smile on my face .
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