P.C. Nation

 

With all the ridiculous crap that has gone on in the last several years, I seriously wonder what has happened to America, land of the free. We’ve gone from a nation of rugged individuals to a bunch of whining, whimpy, self-absorbed cry-babies. Frankly, it’s embarrassing.

Once upon a time it was admirable to use good old American know-how to make things, manufacture modern conveniences, make people’s lives easier with innovative solutions. Now, it’s practically a crime to have a big business, offer a service or product much less expect the consumer to use the product with a modicum of common sense.

Political Correctness has all but destroyed free speech. It has spawned the thought police, cigarette police, fat police, speech police, drinking police, teaching police, holiday police, news police, voting police and self-appointed police for any other activity a free citizen in this country might want to consider doing, saying and thinking.

It has gone from a sarcastic phrase to the way people actually conduct themselves. Thanks to p.c. we have hate crimes. Now, am I crazy or are there actually crimes that don’t involve some sort of hatred? We have hate speech (which is a fall-back postion in case the hate crime label doesn’t cover it) which used to be called free speech. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t believe that people who spew racial slurs, insults, or obscentities are heroes or anything. But we do have free speech in this country. So if some ignorant ass wants to prove what an ignorant ass he is, he has the right. Can you say Don Imus?

Whole groups of Americans are no longer satisfied to be Americans, they prefer the hyphen: Afro-Americans, Mexican-Americans,  Muslim-Americans, Soviet-Americans, Cuban-Americans, Gay-Americans, Bi-Americans, Transgendered-Americans. (Which by the way, have hyphenated in order to become lobbying blocs to acheive political aims – aka special interest groups.)When did the melting pot  that America once proudly touted as her basis become multi-culturalism?  When did we start being anti-American? (Now there’s a hyphen for you)

Aren’t we all just Americans?  After all, I don’t call myself a Euro-American because my ancestors are from Ireland and Germany. I’m just a…well, I’m just an American. And proud of it too. Of course, that will soon be against the law too and the multi-cultural police will be coming for me.

I have to tell you, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the fact that you can no longer say what you think. That you have to think before you speak lest you offend somebody. Lest they have the likes of Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton in their rollodex. God forbid, I don’t feel sorry for the basketball team who are now scarred for life. Or the terrorist who is being held in prison (whilst getting prayer rugs, vegetarian meals, free dental and medical, care of my tax dollars) for being a terrorist. Or the murderer who killed people in cold blood and now that he’s on Death Row is repentant. Because if I say they are all full of shit and need to grow some balls then I’m a fucking ,insensitive, social pariah.

The irony to me is that possibly only 5% of the people I know and come into contact with are politically correct – the others are like me. They have opinions, try to be decent people but don’t go along to get along. Yet, that 5% seems to be running the show.

When the hell did that happen? When did we give these losers permission to force all of us into fear of speaking our minds, living our lives, having our vices and going about our business? Who the hell made them the boss of us? I really want to know.

My fantasy is to find a really big island which we can call the P.C. Nation and force all of those morons to live there. Then they can go crazy scolding one another and bossing each other around and telling each other how to live their lives. And leave us the hell alone.

We can do food drops, newspaper drops and maybe give them a couple of cable feeds. We will not, however, give them anything that is produced by big business, emits carbons, contains any trans-fats, nicotene, pornography, alcohol, religious symbols, holiday themes, chemicals, fertilizers,  fossil fuels, endangered any white mice during the production, fiberglass, plastic, paper, nuclear power or any other modernly produced product that is not wholly and completely from the natural sources. Therefore they get dirt and their ideas. They will have to figure out how to feed themselves without killing anything, create compost heaps from their bodily waste, fuel their vehicles, light and warm their homes with wind and solar power, weave their own fabrics, ropes and hairdos. They will not have manicures, pedicures, facials, starbuck’s, Macey’s, Gap jeans, Sketchers, BMWs or any other evil product of the non-politically correct.

And we can force them to have Algore as their president. That way, at least one of them will get their dream and be happy. And they can be assured of having at least one film to show in their movie house.

They will simply have to live their lives by the code and creedo that they have dictated to us lo, these many years. It could be a great reality show. I’d give it about 2 years before it likened the Wild, Wild West.

What do you think? Are you with me? Should I call a realtor?

😆 WC

Really Stupid Shit Part Deux

I know you’ve all been out there waiting with baited breath for a sequel to this really popular post because when you get right down to it, you just can’t get enough stupid shit. But I like to change things up lest I end up in a rut, so rather than favorite stupid shit – I think we’ll go with annoying stupid shit this time out.

Ready? Good. Here we go

Stupidest remaining Idol Contestant: Tie. Sanjaya the bad singer with the good hair and blindingly white smile – who couldn’t sing if his life truly depended on it. He is only still on the show because weeping pre-teens can’t tell the difference between love and their impending hormones. It’s sweet in a real icky kind of way. But I hate to break it to you folks, he is one of the Top Ten. Any arguments that maybe they should have stopped at season 5?

The other ‘idol’ vying for the title is Chris Sligh (Sly? Are you kidding?) who is the self-appointed “Taylor” contestant for this year. He acts like a dark horse (he thinks), sings the same songs/material as Taylor (tries to Christ-i-cize it?) and just goes off key and nasal, does the fro thang, strolls through the crowd but looks like he wants to slap them out of his way rather than interact. Oh and his fans are calling themselves the Fro-Patrol. Excuse me while I puke. This kid is about as sincere as Paris Hilton while she is hanging out with her girlfriends’ boyfriends unchaperoned. He is the biggest phoniest jackass of a contestant I’ve seen on the show. I’ll bet the voice isn’t really his – he probably pipes it in through his ass from some high tech Ipod mike accessory. Pass the barfbag.

Stupidest Title for a movieMimzy or some shit. I don’t CARE if it is good. You just don’t call a movie Mimzy if you expect anyone over the age of three to go see it. Hey Joe, see any good movies lately? Oh yah Marge and I saw Mimsy – it was really fabulous. Jeez – come on!

Stupidest Talk Show Host: Rosie O’Donnell. What her producers seem to be missing is that talk show hosts are supposed to encourage the guests to talk. Not to slap them, gag them and force feed them their personal, commie, leftie, eco-whacko, insane-o views. Or am I missing something?

Stupidest TV Show: Oh there are soooooooo many but let me pick one from the new batch of shows. Now, mind you I am not going after any reality shows since in my mind they really aren’t tv shows but more like amatuer contests that are televised. No, I’m going after real, shows that are supposed to be real. Okay – Studio Sixty. I mean, hello? What the frick are they thinking here? First of all is Amanda Peet really going to go for Bradley Whitford? The guy has a huge head, it’s even a little scary. Imagine that coming at you ladies for a little good night smooch. Oh yeah. And then Matthew Perry is so schizoid he needs at least 10 offices for all his personalities and the girl he is supposed to be in love with is just too normal to ever really be attracted to a malignant narccissist like him and all his self-righteous spewing crapola. And remember folks, this is supposed to be a comedy, which means funny, right? While really all they are doing is tripping over themselves to spout whatever political ‘message’ is cool and p.c. and see who can talk the fastest. In a phrase it SUCKS!

Stupidest Rock Star: Hands down Bono: Where oh where do I begin? Okay, first of all is he really even that good of a singer? He is ugly as sin – so ugly in fact, he has to wear sunglasses everywhere he goes so the ugly rays do eat the flesh from his face and that of his fans. But what really makes him suck is this pompous, sanctimonious world peace faux world leader act of his. Does he really think anybody (who doesn’t want to get free tickets to rocks concerts populated by other pompous egotistical rock stars) is even remotely interested in his world plan? Sorry bub, but you actually have to get elected by people who know they are electing you, in order to have a say in what my country is going to do about anything. And by the way champ, get the hell out of the U.S. and U.S. affairs, who the hell asked you? How do you get off even hinting at what my tax dollars should be spent on? How dare you take my tax dollars and take credit for what they buy. Kiss my grits, dude. Big time.

Stupidest shit people do to their kids: A picture                             

is worth a thousand words. It’s not bad enought that this child is probably going to be raised by some doped up biker dude and biker chick, they have to turn him into some sort of mini me before he can even learn the words to protest. This mirror image approach to child rearing is just another disease of the yuppified self-absorbed. They don’t want to have children for the joy of having them and raising them to be their own man or woman – but rather they want to raise little clones of themselves so that they will be immortal.

Stupidest phrase: Politically Correct. What in the hell is correct about talking gibberish. I mean under what set of rules, grammar or otherwise does any of this doubletalk even begin to be correct? As for politics – we all know politics are lies and run by the lying liars who lie to get into office. So if something is politically correct isn’t the translation something like perfect lying?

Stupidest Shoes: Those sneakers that are really skates, no they are sneakers no they are skates, no they are sneakers that are skates – they are two, two, two shoes in one. What they are is an accident waiting to happen. It’s bad enough some fool came up with the idea but people are putting them on 6 year old who barely have enough sense not to play in the street much less navigate skating shoes down shopping market aisles . Which of course they don’t and they run smack into you and glare as though you are the cause of all their unhappiness. Between junk food, computers, Ipods and the fact that poor little Johnny shouldn’t have to actually walk to anyplace in the world (not even bed) this ain’t helping in the fight against adolescent obesity.

Stupidest Disease: Again, sooooooooooooooooo many to choose from but let’s go after restless leg syndrome. I mean, come on is this really a disease? From what I’ve read it’s just a magnesium deficiency, which I’d guess you could fix by taking magnesium. Why does every little thing that happens have to be a disease or a genetic defect? Why in the hell isn’t there one damn thing that people are supposed to be responsible for?

Stupidest News Story: The paternity of Ana-Nicole’s daughter. Come on folks, is this really news? I mean are things out there in the big, wide world, so easy going and calm and uneventful that who fathered an aging sex symbol’s daughter gets the headline banner. Not just once but for weeks? Really? So, like world hunger, world peace, tornados, beheadings, none of that takes precedence? Just what I thought all journalists are pussies and idiots who didn’t get their parents’ moneys worth on those fancy prep schools they all attended.

Other things that are just plain stupid pisser offers:

1. People who are too afraid to drive their cars. These are the folks who cause accidents and claim to be in them.

2. Claiming the price of gas is all because of the evil oil companies, with no mention of the taxes, initiatives, regulatory fees and every other little piece of garbage that is added to the price of gasoline which is hidden. No…let’s not tell the truth, let’s blame the guy that provides the goods.

3. Property taxes. Explain something to me, if you own something why would you pay someone else a tax for owning it? What Einstein thought this one up and why the hell does anyone pay it?

4. Giving anyone too young to pay for one on their own, a cell phone. What is the matter with parents today? They give 8 year olds cell phones and Ipods and then wonder how they get hit by cars. Aren’t kids absent-minded enough, you really have to give them things that will completely blot out the world around them? Why not just invest in that Matrix Condo Development now?

5. That cashiers can’t count. You know a bagillion years ago I worked as a waitress and often had to take money at the cash register. So if the bill was $2.26 and they gave you a five so you would count their change back to them like this: 27,28,29,30, 40,50,75, $3, $4, and $5. These days, they take the receipt and pile the bills and the change on top of that and jam it into your hand while peeking at the register to see how much they gave you. Not to mention the fact that they expect you to get the hell out of the way because the guy behind you is about ready to explode because you want to put your change back in your wallet before you grab your bags.

6. Restaurant workers who don’t speak english or have such a difficult time speaking it you cannot understand a word they say – especially at the drive through window. Sorry, but if you’re in America I believe you must speak English well enough to be understood – because if you can’t speak my language do you really think I’m going to trust in the fact that you’ll get my order right or my change? Get real.

7. The cigarette police, the fat police, the second hand smoke police (take your pick) they are the self-appointed assholes who must save society from itself while getting a whole of power for themselves too. Personally, I’m holding out for the bullshit police. I’d love to have some yahoo come along and save all of us from the bullshit that we’ve had shoveled on us from day one. I mean, have you ever asked yourself why it is that despite the trillions of dollars that have been donated and funded into heart disease, cancer, AIDS and so on that there is still no cure for any of it? Don’t you wonder why? Seriously? I’ll tell you why – it’s because they are now cottage industries that hire tons of people who would actually have to find work if cures were found. Most of that money never gets to the level of those who honestly want to find cures or solutions – it gets stuck at the administrative level. Please go save someone who needs saving and leave me alone. I am willing to accept responsibility for my actions.

8. Social Security and Medicare: Is there anyone of my generation out there who has any dillusions that they will collect one cent of the social security and medicare we have funded over our working careers? Anybody? Cuz if so, I have a bridge in Brooklyn you might want to take a look at.

Alrighty then, that’s about all my wee brain can come up with today. Feel free to add to the list.

WC

It’s Official – They Hate Me

 

Okay, so you all know that the new job has been rough from the beginning. But today was the ultimate – one of my staff informed me that they all hate me. Just call me office road kill. Imagine my joy at the news.

Followed by the doctor getting in my face about something, followed by the consultant making fun of me for being upset. I don’t think I’m going to make it there.

 I think I am just the wrong person for the job. I have no one to talk to – and feel like such an outsider there it is just misery.

The worse part of it is – that my blogging has really sucked since I started the job too – which really pisses me off.

I don’t know what I’m going to do – I don’t even know what I can do. Tomorrow I have lunch with the doctor and the consultant – during which I expect them to get on me about whatever – so that will be a meal I won’t be eating.

I never knew I was so unlovable and in fact detestible. Gives one pause, you know? Sorry for the whining but it’s the only thing I can really think about right now.  Can you say, ‘head exploding’?

WC

The Yeah-Whatevers

Lately, it seems I’ve gotten myself a bad case of the ‘yeah-whatevers’ know what I mean? It’s that space you have to get yourself into to protect yourself from the insults and injuries of modern living.

You know like you spend hours over a post and finally get it up and nobody comments. You shrug – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Your readers feel like pimping their posts in your comments section – ‘yeah, whatever.’

You spend $1300 to fix your car only to have it blow a valve 3 weeks later – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Your family decides it’s your turn to get dumped on and criticisms fly across all modes of communication – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Sanjaya makes it to the top 12 on Idol – ‘yeah, whatever.’

You work your ass off for your company all year only to be given sea sickness for  your Christmas bonus – ‘yeah, whatever.’

The old lady next door sells her house to a flip-em dude who is doing round the clock cosmetic changes on the house so he can sell it in a month – forget about any peace and quiet on the weekend – ‘yeah, whatever.’

No matter what you do or don’t eat, your ass just keeps getting bigger and bigger – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Your dog has become some neurotic old lady of a dog who barks non-stop at some invisible interloper, ‘yeah, whatever.’

The only filling you need to get re-done will cost you $189, ‘yeah, whatever.’

Gas is over $3 a gallon just as your commute to work has tripled, ‘yeah, whatever.’

Heroes is on hiatus again, ‘yeah, whatever.’

You basically just have so many nifty things to be depressed about you can’t even pick a favorite, ‘yeah, whatever.’

I’m trying though – I really am trying to get out of this funk. And no I am not bringing in the dah noise with dah funk. I’m trying to find things to be cheerful about. Like my birthday (oh boy now I’m even older) and the prospect of a new car (can’t wait to have yet another monthly payment and more insurance) my new wardrobe (cuz now I’m fatter than I was) but it’s not easy.

Pray for me. Or join in the fun of your own ‘yeah, whatevers’ At least the weekend is upon us. That’s good right?

WC

Snappy Office Come-backs!

 

Hey – ever get a little tongue-tied at work? You know, somebody chaps your hide and you just sit there like a kid with an IQ of 30 or something? Then about 15 minutes later your mind kicks in again and  you think of all manner of things you should have said? Well here’s a little list you can keep under your keyboard for those very occasions – you can even laminate it so coffee spills won’t hurt it. Good luck and hope it helps.  

1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 4:00 and then bring
it to me. The challenge of a deadline is refreshing.
2. If it’s really a rush job, run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it’s going. That helps. Even better, hover behind me, and advise me at every keystroke.
3. Always leave without telling anyone where you’re going. It gives me a chance to be creative when  someone asks where you are.
4. If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books, or supplies,  don’t open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever  be injured and lose all use of my limbs.
5. If you give me more than one job to do, don’t tell me which is priority. I am psychic.
6. Do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.
7. If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. If that gets out,it could mean a promotion.
8. If you don’t like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. I was born to be whipped.
9. If you have special instructions for a job, don’t write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.
10. Never introduce me to the people you’re with. I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.
11. Be nice to me only when the job I’m doing for you could really change
your life and send you straight to manager’s hell
12. Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it’s nice to know someone is less fortunate. I especially like the story about having to pay so many taxes on the bonus check you received for being such a good manager.
13. Wait until my yearly review and THEN tell me what my goals SHOULD have been. Give me a mediocre performance rating with a cost of living increase. I’m not here for the money anyway 

Feel free to add any to the list that I’ve overlooked. 😉
WC

(PS: HT to A-Mum for the list – come back soon Moe)

What She Did For Love????

Okay, call me crazy, but don’t they have any psych evaluations at NASA? I mean if you’re going to send somebody up into space (potentially) wouldn’t you want to make sure that they had their head screwed on right? I would. Hell, even if it was just a driver’s license I’d want to make sure. Talk about out of this world. This chick was like Fatal Attraction meets SpaceBalls or something. Jeez. I think it may be time to rethink the NASA program. These folks should be being drafted for politics not space travel. 😉

WC

(HT to Gerry for the toon. Tanks, buddy.)

Bargain Bitches

I don’t know about you guys but I love to shop. Not just shop but bargain hunt. Consequently, I spend time in not just regular stores in shopping malls but in consignment shops, thrift stores, second hand shops, Goodwill, outlets and so on.

I know that turns a lot of people off. Buying other people’s castoffs- doesn’t necessarily conjure up pleasant pictures. But then again, that’s what dry cleaners and laundramats were made for – you know? For example, there are some things like an Audrey Hepburn Chanel suit that you aren’t going to be able to get anywhere but a vintage shop. If you like vintage or retro clothing you aren’t going to get it at Macy’s. If you want fantastic Italian leather shoes for a fraction of their typical cost you will either have to go to Italy or find an outlet (Gerry Pillar’s out in my neck of the woods) and spend the time going through the stacks to see if you can find that gem.

I suppose it’s really a matter of preference or perspective. Some people think that shopping is a time consuming task that is best gotten through as quickly as possible. I, on the other hand, think of it as ‘the hunt.’ For me, it’s hunting season all year long. And believe me, you better be willing to come with weaponry and ammunition because those other bargain bitches mean business.

Like today, I decided to visit one of my favorite haunts for a couple of things. They didn’t have what I was looking for but I thought I’d hit the racks anyway because I knew I could always use another shirt or blouse. There must be a special shopping pheramone (sp) because I’ve noticed whenever I hit a rack and there is no one around for miles and I’m just flying through, all of a sudden other bb’s show up sniffing around. They position their carts so I can’t get by or they start right ahead of me or right behind me – doing the bargain stalk – hoping to spook me and get me to leave. But I don’t fall for that crap any more. If some bb knocks me with her cart, I knock her right back and act as if it was an act of God. If some bb tries to push ahead of me I stick my fat ass in her path. If another bb tries to reach over me I give her the ‘I’m a gonna kill ye’ look and she backs off.

This is serious business and if you think you can waltz into some bargain establishment and just patty cake your way through it you are sadly mistaken. You must go with a kickass attitude, a grimace on your face and a look that makes people wonder just what kind of weaponry you carry in that bigass purse slung over your shoulder. But I digress….

I went to one of my usual haunts and was flipping through the blouses and some grunting, muttering creature sidled right up next to me. She was special. She had this really spooky, grunty, breathy talk to herself thing she did – which immediately conjured up images of Kujo. I didn’t really want a blouse that bad so I moved to another rack. But in short order she was there again. And again and again. Wherever I went she appeared within moments. It freaked me out a little. Though she wasn’t trying to throw me off my game she was doing it anyway. I grabbed a few things and checked out quick.

It’s the kind of thing that can really ruin your bargain hunt experience. After I got in my car, I sat a while, wondering if she would come out and shed her human suit and reveal that she was a werewolverine or something. But no luck. Still, I may have to work hard to get the breathy grunty mutter outta my head.

WC

Oh For a Scotch and a Pack of Cigarettes

 

Okay folks, so you want a story about my new job? Let me just tell you about my glorious day.

I got up early and got ready – determined to get there ahead of everyone else. New schedule, new commute still trying to hit it just right. And yesterday I was broiling in the office because I wore a sweater, so today just a cotton turtleneck and trousers.

Out the door and the air is like ice – 39 degrees – in California mind you. That’s really cold for us out here. Already I’m rethinking the cotton turtleneck but there’s no time so I jump in my little Chevy. But wait, what’s this? Why did it practically take two hands to turn the ignition? No radio, no heater, no lights, my ABS light is stuck on and there’s this funny smell….

Okay, clearly not getting in ahead of anyone. Drive straight to the mechanic (who I only just saw last week for one of those delux tune-up jobby-do’s) – but only the non-english speaking mechanic guy is there. The manager will be back in an hour – the owner who I’ve known for a bagillion years had just left. Nice big cold wind coming up. Hmmm…who can I call at 8:15 in the morning who won’t want to kill me? Why Zelda of course. Call home phone. No answer. Call cell. No answer. Decide to call work to tell them I will be late. No answer.

Yay, Zelda calls back. Yes she will take me to work. Be there in a few. Now with Zelda a few minutes can mean anything from 5 minutes to an hour. More standing in cold office and cold parking lot at mechanic’s. Finally Zelda arrives, I get in the car, which isn’t quite as cold as outside but not doing much to thaw me out. See Zelda doesn’t like heaters – in fact, she runs the A/C pretty much year round. So I keep my shivers to myself since she is doing me a favor.

Now I’m dreading how many bagillions of dollars it’s going to cost me to fix the car. I have visions of redoing the entire electrical system and various other stomach-churning possibilities. Enough. I throw myself into work. The place is a mess. There is stuffed crammed in every nook and cranny. Old papers, old envelopes, parts of equipment that no longer exists. Magazines, notepads, broken clipboards, Halloween decorations – pretty much everything but the fricking kitchen sink. So I spent most of the day going through all that crap. It did warm me up though – so I suppose that’s the upside.

Then I needed to talk to the bookeeper which took forever because she had to do this or that or whatever – long story short, I finally got a few minutes with her and got her on Quick Books tutorials. During which I discovered she doesnt’ know much about Quick Books and really pretty much computers. Cool, so it’s going to be a long road there.

Then the soon to be ex office manager had a fit because she didn’t get her overtime and she’s going to walk out and ooh, it’s such a drama. I mean we’re talking about $20. Right? So I told her I’d talk to Zelda cuz she was the one who put the kabosh on that – don’t even ask. So I just got off the phone with Zelda and she’s all pissed. And the other one is all pissed and it’s all on my plate anyway cuz well, it just is.

The good news is my car only needed a $50 part – a relay? And it works just fine now. I’m still alive, that’s good news. And there are only two more days left to the work week. Also good news. But Friday we’re having a little party for the ex office manager whom everyone hates and can’t wait to have go – but any reason to have cake and coffee, right?

Right now, a scotch and a pack of cigarettes would do a lot to improve my mood. I gotta tell you I’m not sure I’m cut out for this kind of crap. It’s all stupid and petty to me. I’d rather be writing. I’d rather being reading. I must be out of my mind. Oh well, maybe it will be better next week.

Though the 2nd night of American Idol tryouts is on tonight. I think I’m having a bad day? I’ll betcha there will be others who have a way worse one than me after all is said and done.

Later.

WC

The Blog Gods Are Angry!#$%@&*!

First of all let me just say this is all Bill Gates’ fault! The dawg!

Okay, I’ve been blogging for a little while now- I think I’ve learned the ropes more or less. Know how not to crash my hard-drive, or blow up my computer, can’t write code but sort kinda know what it is, right? Right. Got a photobucket account, just like my mentor told me to – learned how to download pics so they don’t look like you’ve just had a hit of acid or something. Can tag surf, check my comments, response to readers in bold, add links and blah, blah, blah. Right?

So suffice to say that given the glorious ease that WordPress gives you in blogging – I can function within the normal confines of blogging. I’m not a blackbelt or anything – but I know my way around the ol’ blogosphere. And yet….

In my adventures as a blogger I have had to actually shut down a blog and reopen it under a different name because one day I just couldn’t add categories to my posts. For you layman out there, those are ‘tags’ ‘keywords’ that people use to find subject matter on the net. I tried and tried. But there was clearly no way to trick the system – even tech support was baffled. So – okay, no big deal transfer the blog over and start again.

Then I’ve had posts just disappear. Now you see it now you don’t. Again, some sort of glitch in the cyber universe, as I’ve commiserated with others whose posts have vaporized as well.

I’ve had code that simply refused to be deleted and finally won because after two hours you just say uncle. Which resulted in half the post being in one font and the other half in another.

I’ve had regular readers end up in the spam box, rather than having their comments posted and spammers doing pingbacks, making nonsequitor posts and happily running down the halls, spraying graffitti everywhere.

Not long ago, I added a bright new blogger to my blogroll. He’s bright, funny and a pleasure to read. And I thought, what the heck, I like this guy and I’m linking him. No problem, right? Well the weird thing is that whenever I click on the link I get redirected to some weird admin link and one of those insipid messages that says basically ‘screw you, you’re not getting in.’ I’ve recently discovered that if I’m logged out I can sometimes actually access his page. Sigh. So, I’m trying Chris.

Then today – well I had this cute little post all set up about snow in L.A. and a great little vid to go with it. But nope, wasn’t going to happen. The last two hours have been chewed up trying to make it work and it just goes into download hell and never arrives.

Poor tech support, I’ve emailed them so much lately that surely I’m in their permanent spam list – and pain in the ass file. And who could blame them? I feel like that little old lady who is always bringing stuff back to the store insisting it doesn’t work but of course it works for everyone else.

So, now I’m sure of it. It is simply the Great Blog Gods in the sky. They are pissed at me. They are making me pay. They got an email from Bill Gates telling them I refuse to download yet another version of his piece-of-shit IE browser and they are conspiring against me. They’re all up there smoking cigars, counting their money, drinking beers and laughing their asses off. Trying to figure out how else they can screw with me. The rat bastards!

Well, I will not relent! I will not download that hideous browser. They can torment me all they like. I still refuse to be herded like cows into their mindless one-world order composed of all of those who must obey! (Can you hear the trumpets now?)

Give me liberty or screw you! I have not yet begun to bitch! I will prevail!

Phew…I feel better now. Have a nice day. 😉

WC

Oy Carumba, the Guilt!

Recently I’ve mentioned problems on the job front – the company I worked with for almost 3 years was having trouble. Well, I’m sorry to say that the trouble didn’t end and I have left what I affectionately called The Land of Fun.

It was a fun, easy-going place to work – since we made movie props and I guess were sorta kinda in show business, there was no end of make-believe going on. But I guess there is more than make-believe needed to keep a business going.

No worries about me, as I’ve gotten another job, which I start Monday. It’s a far cry from the Land of Fun and it will be a brand new adventure for me – or them, I guess we shall see who experiences the most surprise. 😉

I felt kind of guilty leaving my old job. We’d all become such comrades it rather felt like deserting the ship – but I had to admit that I needed to take care of me first and so left I did.

Now, I could have started my new job this week actually. I could have just jumped right into the fray and let the chips fall where they may. But, I decided (since the folks at Land of Fun didn’t require me to work out any notice) to just take a few days off.

I reasoned that there were lots of stupid, little things that needed to be done that I never seem to get around to doing. That I was some time to decompress and chill out. I wanted to go to my new job, fresh and relaxed. That I deserved a break. Because truth be told I don’t take vacations. Oh sure, I went away for a few days over Thanksgiving and as much fun as it was to see my friends, it was work. Try tagging along with a mother of three ages 9, 2 & 1 and you’ll know what I mean. Hell, I needed a vacation after the vacation.

So, okay, I’m having a little vacation. I’m catching up on sleep. Reading. Doing things around the house. Reveling in the solitude (did I mention roomie got a job?) and silence. I’ve been taking long walks with the dog – collecting bouquets of wild flowers – taking long showers, tweezing my eyebrows. Really important stuff.

Yet…the guilt. After a day and a half I started feeling like I was committing a crime. I felt like I should call my new job and confess that I was goldbricking for a few days before I decided to come in. I’m blowing off that idea the consultant had about going in on Saturday to get a little orientation. I’m not answering the phone for fear it might be someone who might want me to do something. I peer through the kitchen curtains to see if the Job Police are cruising my neighborhood, looking for layabouts.

I’ve parked my car a few houses down from mine, in case somebody I know drives by won’t think I’m home. When I go out I wear dark glasses and slouchy clothes so I won’t be recognized. I haven’t called any friends because I don’t want them to know I’m slacking. WTF is wrong with me? I mean, why the guilt?

I’ve been on my own and working for a living since I was 17. Even when I lived with my parents, I worked, bought my own clothes and textbooks, was always doing something. I’m not wired to lay around and do nothing. I mean, not that I’m doing nothing – I’m doing stuff. And it’s stuff that needs to be done but…I still feel guilty.

If I’m not out somewhere doing something, or writing about something or reading about something then I feel like I’m letting my fellow man down. Why can’t I simply enjoy my sloth week? Why can’t I revel in being bad. In being lazy. In doing nothing? Why????????

Do you think it has anything to do with being raised Catholic? I man people always say that the Jews have the corner on guilt but maybe they haven’t had any run ins with the Nuns. The ones who give you the look. You know the look? The one that can put a crease in your slacks, while you’re wearing them? The one that can make you pray for forgiveness even if you haven’t done anything? I’m telling you – the guilt, the guilt, the guilt. I can’t take it anymore!

Gotta go…somebody is lurking outside my house and I’m afraid they can hear the keys tapping.

WC