...it's just something i saw in your face

'hawking up no. 2's hair is like trying to draw a straight line on the head of a small bird.

"hold still. hold still! hold still!!"

but in the end i guess it is worth it (no doubt dabblers in the science of psychology will attribute my tenacity with no. 2's 'hawk to the fact i desperately wanted one when i was a teenager and never got to have one. i just think they are fucking cool).

the particular pizza joint i work at abounds in propaganda. there are signs and posters everywhere encouraging us to smile and greet the customer within a certain amount of time, blah blah blahdy fucking blah. not sure how propaganda is intended to work, but on me it has a detrimental affect: if the sign says smile, i will, but it will be the dumbest most smart-alecky cheesiest most fake smile i can muster.

one of the most apalling and ludicrous bits of propaganda is what the other workers shout at the drivers as they leave for a run: the driver, on his/her way out the door, is required to call out, "driver out!" followed by the elapsed time of the order, and any side items or beverages that he/she may be hauling.

supposedly, this is so the manager's can keep track of how long it is taking, and whether or not they need to restock the pop cooler.

truth is, they rarely pay any fucking attention at all.

in reply, the workers still in the store are sposed to holler back, "buckle up, drive safe!"

here is why propaganda makes me snort: it is unlikely, were i not already planning on either buckling up or driving safe, that this line would render me so malleable as to change my mind into doing so.

it does, however, afford me with a veritable cornucopia of opportunities to use my trademark sardonic wit.

some of the most common replies to "buckle up, drive safe" that i have offered: "like you guys care!" "if i must!" "no way, crazy as a loon and unbuckled for me, thanks!"

once, with customers lined up and waiting for pizzas, i shouted back, "the more i work here, the less i wanna!" as i zoomed out the door to a hail of raucous laughter, courtesy of all those waiting patrons.

and now, sex:

(got your attention there, didn't i? you pervy little peope. hahaha. which brings up an interesting sidebar: does being a stay-home parent heighten one's perviness and smoldering libido? or is it more just when a guy stays home? or is it just me? i am gonna go with "just me" seeing as i am quite a bit pervy, and always had a plentiful libido. and another sidebar, since we are already here caught between my accursed parentheses and lost in one of my completely unrelated tangents that will force you, the beloved non-existant readers, (and me too) to backtrack to whatever i was talking about before i got sidetracked on this other thing and attempt to reboard my original train of thought (heading for hell and points west, chooo choooo): i know i really don't talk much about sex or sex-related topics within the scope of this small bit of dust under the bed that is the world wide web, but trust me when i say, o my brothers and devotchkas, i love sex. i used to write erotica (for myself mostly--and that is all i am gonna say bout that!) until i reread quite a bit of it and decided that it was all mostly rip-offs from other erotica i had read, and that while i might've added some clever stuff here and there, i wasn't really bringing anything new to the table, and that few people would want to read any of it. it is simply that i feel that discussing sex specifics in here would be putting my wife's and my personal matters, so to speak, right out on public display, and since we have family that read, that would be, in a word, icky. as far as general observations about sex or whathaveyou, well, i just never really find a moment that presents itself. now back to your regularly-scheduled program--)

and now, sex:

one of the drivers (female) that knew me before i left the confines of the pizza joint and my wife left the confines of the country was recently talking to me about my dubious and unplanned return to said pizza joint, and i told her i had done it to pay for my tattoo.

she asked what i was getting done.

it was a bit slow, so i motioned her to the back of the store where we pile up the broken-down boxes for recycling and keep the empty dough trays, and lifted my shirt to show her the tattoo.

i do this all the time. i am used to the reactions: "wow!" "fuck, that is cool!" "dayum!" etc etc.

this girl began to make what i can only describe as fuck noises: "mmmm fuck yeah. ooooh fuck, yeah! mmmm hmmmm."

then, much to my surprise, she did something that no one, and i do mean no one, has ever done, barring my wife. she reached up, and traced some of the newer lines on one shoulder blade with her finger. while still emitting the fuck noises.

now, last time i checked, i am not made of either ice or wood, so it goes without saying that my lizard fuck-n-fight brain took over momentarily and flashed up all manner of craziness in the form of in-my-head-only porn. (and worry not, o my droogs and only friends, i keep no secrets from my wife. the first story i told her of the evening was this particular one, with one of her friends present no less. we all had a good laugh.)

then i dropped my shirt, smirked my smirk, and hoofed it to the front of the store post haste, because even though she had moved away from me and given me back my personal space, she was still standing there with a look on her face that my lizard brain was reading as "take me now" and the logical and coherent part of my brain was sounding the alarm.

what's the point of this little story? not sure. but it raises a question in my head that i often find myself tackling: as a stay-home parent, one is expected to maintain a certain amount of decorum, shall we say. i mean, i am far from pta material, but we're all expected to behave ourselves.

and i am often surprised, pleasantly, i might add, to find that other stay-home parents (women, mostly, since they outnumber us stay-home dads a million to one) get randy, talk with each other about sex (out of earshot of their kids), scope hot passersby, etc etc.

we are, after all, human.

but i still sorta battle this within myself. it is normal and healthy for me to like sex, it is even acceptable for me to enjoy porn. i'm a guy, shit, what do you expect. but somewhere in my noggin i have the notion that stay-home parents don't do this. granted, it is some kind of convoluted idealistic image based, most likely, on some sort of fifties icon with a woman with perfect hair and ridiculously blue eyes vacuuming in a skirt and heels.

or, you might say, i guess, o my beloved and crazy and randy and vivacious non-existant readers, it is based on a propaganda.

wow, i feel better already!

darth sardonic

mini blogs

tacoma can't handle a simple concert

got free tickets to see breaking benjamin/three days grace/nickleback at the tacoma dome. it should be said here that the band we really want to see is breaking benjamin, which, it appears to us, the casual observers, was treated like the bastard redhead stepson on this tour.

we left at 6 to catch them beginning in the vicinity of 7. we live a mere 15-minute drive from the dome. we didn't get into the concert till 8. yes, 8. 8 fucking o'clock, two motherfucking sodding hours later. why? because apparently the parking lots at the dome were full already at 6. and tacoma's finest was letting no one anywhere near the dome, which meant we had to drive several miles out of our way in stop and go traffic (and i mean no-shit stop and go. i rarely put the car into second, and every time i did, i had to slam on my brakes shortly thereafter) to pay $10 to drive up four levels to park and nearly run five blocks to the dome, only to find out that breaking benjamin had already played some time ago.

we decided to fuck off for dinner instead, and heard maybe two songs by three days grace while all this occured, which, i might add, sounded like refried shit, so i'm guessing the rest of the concert would've bit dead donkey nuts.

headline on the tribune the next morning: more parking needed for tacoma dome? no fucking duh.


just rewards

for some time, my faith in kharma had begun to fail. that is to say, i was beginning to feel that the cosmic scale had gotten it reversed: for every good thing you did, bad things happened to you, and for every bad thing you did, you were heaped upon with blessings.

but my faith has been renewed.

the doss cunt that was a former roommate/bandmate who put his shit in storage to fuck off to the desert and left us with a hefty fine for breaking our lease after assuring us that he was "good for it" at the signing of the papers returned recently from his deployment.

now, in his absence, we have happenchanced upon several other people he has fucked over/hurt in some way. turned out this douchebag only befriends people for what he can con them out of them.

but he appeared to thrive.

until recently. he's apparently hard-up for friends upon his return, as he has tried to contact my wife a few times since returning, to no avail. and he apparently can't understand why she won't talk to him. furthermore, he has been hanging out at work (all day), which he "hates" with people he "can't stand" during his time off, most likely since he has nothing else to do.

and he was recently called in along with one of his other buddies to have his ass chewed by three different and seperate supervisors for being insubordinate and lazy whilst deployed in a war zone. i know for a fact that he had to dye his hair back to normal from some ungodly color (the last one was green) for this "meeting" because every time he comes back from a deployment, he bleaches and dyes his hair.

and his direct supervisor, which he has always been sure he could bulldoze (she is one of the other fuckees of twatboy), made it abundantly clear to him that he is to come in, do his job, shut the fuck up, and quit fucking about. and this was backed by the rest of the supervisors up the chain. in not-so-nice words. at not-normal-conversation volumes.

yeah, his life currently fucking sucks.

and i am laughing my dipshit ass off.


random lines from the past few weeks

it's the instant my face hits the windshield, followed by my face hitting the brick wall, that is what would do it for me.

all we can hope is breaking benjamin goes on late (this was still an hour before we actually got into the venue).

he's gotta be hatin' life. and j.c.'s had an amp for sale that is exactly like the one he spent 1200 bucks buying. i can't help but think he had to hock it. at least that is how the story is gonna go in my head.

stah war' lego. yeeeeaaaaah!!!!

i've been recording music, which means i am going to have to break down and start a fucking myspace to get it out there. (yes, soon i will have a link to my music myspace, god i hate myself hahahaha!)

even though we didn't get to see them, i still had a great time hanging out with you.

i don't care if you don't see it my way/i don't care if you see it at all (low pop suicide)

if you two don't quit fucking fighting, i will turn the goddamn game off.

(this is actually a whole, though short, funny story. i tell the boys i am going to turn the game off if they can't play as a team. in unison, they shout "no!" then begin bickering between the two of them again. click! no. 1 proceeds to have what i can only describe as a mixture of a seizure, aneurysm, thrombosis, and constipation all at the same time. his face is purple, his ears are red, his eyes are huge and moist, his body is vibrating like a chimed bells, and his fists are clenched. no. 2 just began bawling. wonder where he gets that? hmmmm. must do more research...)

darth sardonic