8 Monkeys

(This is reportedly based on an actual experiment conducted in the U.K.)

Put eight monkeys in a room. In the middle of the room is a ladder, leading to a bunch of bananas hanging from a hook on the ceiling.

Each time a monkey tries to climb the ladder, all the monkeys are sprayed with ice water, which makes them miserable. Soon enough, whenever a monkey attempts to climb the ladder, all of the other monkeys, not wanting to be sprayed, set upon him and beat him up. Soon, none of the eight monkeys ever attempts to climb the ladder.

One of the original monkeys is then removed, and a new monkey is put in the room. Seeing the bananas and the ladder, he wonders why none of the other monkeys are doing the obvious. But undaunted, he immediately begins to climb the ladder.

All the other monkeys fall upon him and beat him silly. He has no idea why.

However, he no longer attempts to climb the ladder.

A second original monkey is removed and replaced. The newcomer again attempts to climb the ladder, but all the other monkeys hammer the crap out of him.

This includes the previous new monkey, who, grateful that he's not on the receiving end this time, participates in the beating because all the other monkeys are doing it. However, he has no idea why he's attacking the new monkey.


One by one, all the original monkeys are replaced. Eight new monkeys are now in the room. None of them have ever been sprayed by ice water. None of them attempt to climb the ladder. All of them will enthusiastically beat up any new monkey who tries, without having any idea why.


And this is how most corporate policies have been established.





(stolen unabashedly from this guy ---> http://johns-jokes.com/joke/of_the_day/The_8_Monkeys/588 )

Good fan-fiction is hard to find...

This had me rolling nearly to the point of tears... I just wish that it was an open forum so I could see just how bad this fan-fic story is. Not that -anyone- could ever top the reprimanding the author is getting from the forum Mod.

enjoy!

Dear Kantaris,
"First I'd like to say thank you for mustering your courage and posting your story in Creative Convention. Between all this "natural talent" and "good material" every now and then we need what literary types call "a sun-ripened catbox full of pig intestines" to relax with.
"Second of all I'd like to say my thank you was insincere and that you are arguably the biggest faggot to vomit his bullshit all over what is generally a good fiction forum. Without reading - without so much as scanning - this forum, you decided you'd drop off your Vin-Diesel-Meets-Monopoly-Man-Meets-THE-UNFUNNIEST-FUCKING-BUNCH-OF-SHIT story off here so we would "appreciate" it for you.
"Well guess what, Kantaris: Nobody appreciated this piece of shit. I read this and my balls shriveled up inside my stomach. This story is awful. It's so bad - so outright terrible - my finger's itching to go under your name and click the "permaban" button on principle. I won't do that because I have self-restraint, something you clearly lack.
"How do I know you lack it? Because you shat this out and didn't even stop to think you might delete it before you embarrass yourself. You just thought "hey, I had this TOTALLY FUCKIN RANDOM conversation with my brosef at work, better post it up for them folks at that Creative Forum". If I were you, I personally wouldn't have the time or capacity to post this. Why? Because as soon as it came off my fingers, onto the keyboard, my hands would be occupied propping a shotgun under my chin.
"You wretch. You low-down, yellow-bellied cocksucker. My one hope in this life used to be to fuck Christina Ricci in one of those mirrored-ceiling hotels. Not now. You wanna know what it is? Do you? I hope - I pray to Christ, Kantaris - that I come across an auto accident involving you and your family. I hope that the last thing you see before you die is me impaling your newborn son's head on a broken part of your car's frame. I hope that the last sound that crosses the barrier to your ears before the lights go out is the splootching sound my erect penis makes as it repeatedly penetrates the gushing wound in your wife's throat.
"And you know the worst part? You think this is funny. Something so bad has happened in your life that you looked at this and you were proud enough to think - just for a second - that this is something worthwhile. You know what, Kantaris? The people who write "Drawn Together" would snub this. Pictures of old women being violently raped with Medieval weaponry are infinitely funnier than this story could ever hope to be. I'd rather watch my chronically depressed mother swing neck-first from a ceiling fan than I would ever read this again.
"You ruined my forum, Kantaris. You ruined my life's one dream. You ruined fiction. All in one fell swoop, Kantaris. I hope it was worth it."

Regards, you fucking scoundrel,
Evan "Pantsfish" Wade
— From a review of an inane story on Something Awful (requires archives access to read)

Enough is enough is enough

Hey again!

I realize my posts are taking longer and longer to get out, but what can I say... I've been a busy goose.
Here is the update, thus far...
I worked. I worked some more. Then I got a second job and worked even harder.

Then my primary job, Office Depot, got some sand in their collective vagina over the fact that I was A) working on computers on my own time, with my own contacts  and B) inadvertently "representing Office Depot outside of normal business protocols" by giving a few customers my cell phone number on the back of OD business card.

Now, in my defense, I was moonlighting. I worked with exactly 4 people over the last few months. None of those four were even Office Depot customers (with the exception of 1 elderly couple, and it was a service that OD doesn't offer)... and, here's the kicker, I asked months ago if it was ok to do this "side business" and the store manager said it was absolutely fine, just so long as I wasn't poaching business from OD when I was on their clock.

So here comes the corporate Loss Prevention guy last wednesday... calls me into the office and asks why I'm "giving out my cell phone to OD customers and offering to do services on my own time cheaper than what the store charges."  After the initial shock of his accusation, I denied ever doing such a thing. Mainly, because I never did that. So we went round and round for a bit, I wrote a statement to the effect that I had indeed given out my number, but never, ever offered to do any services that OD offers to a customer on my own time for a reduced rate.
I also added that anyone that said I did do that was a goddamn dirty liar. In retrospect, that may have not been the best thing to put on paper.

So, I got 3 days administrative leave while HR decided what to do with me...which ended in termination. Not because of actually going out and doing work on my own (which they said was a conflict of interest, but had no leg to stand on since I had my store managers approval)...but because I simply gave out my cell phone number to a customer.

Now, when I did this (and it was more than once)... It was never with the intention of collecting money for services rendered, I would always add the token phrase " ok, here's my card... our store number is on the front and my number is on the back... if you have any problems at all with your new laptop or you run into any type of issues with it, please give us a call and I'll make sure it gets straightened out."
Where I come from, and how I was raised, this is just good customer service. Apparently, Office Depot does not condone good customer service and considers it a bad business practice.

 The least they could have done was give me a "thanks for your help" for bringing them from a -12% profit up to only a -1% margin in the 9 months I've worked there. Yes, I was that good of a salesman... consistently in the top 10 sales of the district for about 6 of those months, top 5 to be honest... and in the top 3 sales for 3 months.
All is not lost, however... I still have my other crappy minimum wage job.

Secondly, I heard a voice in my head about a week ago... it happens sometimes, most of the time I listen to it. Its usually something strange when/if I'm pondering some sort of life decision... in the past I've liked to think that maybe it was God talking to me, trying to lead me down whatever path may be best for me at that time.

This is the same voice that told me to quit my job (about 2 jobs ago), the same voice that told me I should get off my ass and marry my last wife, the same voice that also told me it was ok to start bullriding at age 25... because you only live once, right!?

So, my voice said "hey, you haven't slept for the last 3 hours...get out of bed, get on facebook, and see if you can find your ex from about 4 years ago... just to see how she's doing." 
So I did.
I even sent her a message about how proud I was of her... she'd really come along way since she dumped me. She's completely self sufficient, well on her way to getting an awesome degree that I could never get myself, and very much standing on her own two feet.
I never expected her to actually reply to the message, I was complete douche for pretty much our whole relationship, but surprisingly enough she did reply. We even chatted for a bit online, then moved to phone conversations.
I discovered she's been single for almost a year, same as me. She'd learned to weld and had taken a job doing that for quite a while, same as I was doing when we had split. Now she was getting a college degree in computer software engineering, and I've been fixing computer software/hardware issues for nearly a year now.
After we were over the shock of the similarity of our lives from the last few years, she even mentioned a visit... maybe even a prolonged visit? So I started contemplating this... she was a great girl, then. Seems to be even better now... and I have been habitually lonely for the last year or so. Not even so much as asked a girl out on a date.

So I threw out a line and wondered if maybe I could see her again.... talking about the possibility of moving there to be closer, and starting fresh in a new area... I've been here where I am for far too long.  She agreed that sounded cool...except.
Yeah, there it comes. That singular word that crushes so many a heart/aspiration in men the world over. Except.

"Except I'm not sure I want to get into a relationship again, I like living by myself and going through life on my own now. I'd be happy to let you stay for a while until you got your own place, but I can't guarantee that there will be any type of relationship like we used to have. I love you. I love you uncondtionally, and you'll always have a place in my heart." The only thing she forgot to really drive the stake through my heart, as it was perched upon my sleeve, was " I think we're better off as friends", but the sentiment was there.  I'm not completely oblivious.

Now, what all of this leads up to is that little voice I hear now and then. It's not the same little voice that says "go get something to eat." or "don't stick your hand in fire, stupid." 
No, I'm fairly convinced that its a higher power talking to me. Yes, I know, I sound crazy... but I'm ok with it.

What I've come up with is this... that little voice really -is- God.
And he's fucking trolling me like I'm the biggest noob EVAR. The bitch of it is, I keep falling for it, then keep blaming him when I immediately fall short.

In the short run, like the last year and a half, here is what God's thrown at me...
1) My dad died.
2) I had to be the one that killed him.
3) I lost my job.
4) My wife left me and STILL hasn't been heard from.
5) longest term of unemployment in my life.
6) Think things are turning around, then get pwned by some LP douchebag because I put my cell number on the back of a card.
7) Think I have at least a fighting chance at relationship happiness again, then get slammed in the friendzone faster than I can say "help meh, jayzus!!"

Because of this laundry list of personal tragedy, I've not exactly been on speaking terms with God lately. Or gone to church, or anything else... except.
I still keep listening to that little voice when it speaks... the only thing I can't hear is the "lol" after the results are in.


So, this morning... and this after a great deal of reflection last night, I've decided to keep on listening. And I'm not going to take it so seriously anymore. I'm going to see if I -can- set up something with my girl out west. Even just as friends or whatever, I'm not looking to head into anything with expectations, either... it never works out well when I do that. I think I'm due for a change of scenery, and if she's gracious and loving enough to allow me that for a minute, then I'd be eternally grateful... because I love her unconditionally, too. Always have.
After all of the bullshit I've had to endure for the last couple of years, I think I'm entitled to a little fucking happiness. So enough is enough, God.
Gimme your best shot, because I've been trolled by the best and I've trolled them right the fuck back and walked away with my head held high.

I can take it. I'm tougher than you think.

Hi There. I've missed you.

Well well well, its been a while, hasn't it?
I'd like to blog all night and let you wonderful folks in on multitudes of joyful experiences, fabulous windfalls of luck and fortune, and unending fits of laughter at the expense of others... 'cept I can't. Mainly because nothing exciting has happened.

That's the main reason I haven't made a post in so long, because as supportive as you've all been I have really felt that you deserve better than just seeing what it was I had for lunch yesterday afternoon. You deserve rants about inane things that are worthy of Lewis Black monologues... and it just hasn't been happening.

I still work at the same shithole of an "office supply" store, a thinly disguised, less pushy version of Best Buy.. with paperclips.  My department manager is still a virgin that lives with his parents at the age of 32.  My store manager is still dating some bipolar chick that, get this, has moved herself AND her brother into his newly purchased home...but stills says "we're not a couple". She allegedly even went on a date and brought the other guy -back- to the house while Boss was at work or some crap like that... I say allegedly because I heard this purely in gossip form.  Regardless, poor guy has his nuts in a vise and she has her hand on the crank.

I gave up on the reason I started this blog, which was the weight loss thing... I did end up losing about 10 lbs, so I'm back to the weight I'm personally comfortable with, plus on the off chance I did lose the competition, I won't have to go work on the new house the Boss got... I would have moral issues doing that with bipolar girl living there calling the shots.

I did have my hours cut at shithole job, but thats been storewide...nothing I've done personally. I keep saying I need to start looking for a part-time job somewhere, or full-time, closer to home... but being the procrastinator I am, I never do.

Today I was somewhat scolded...apparently I don't "Tweet" enough for Mrs. Macready. I apologize, I'll try to do better. Hopefully the self-pic of me made up for my lack of contact <3.

And, since I have nothing of real importance to actually blog about... I'm going to write this blog for Laidy Mondegreen (who has also been lacking in her posts, but has recommendations about what she likes to read about)... I shall attempt something that has probably never been attempted by any amateur blogger before, in the history of blogging, so this may be a world first.
Her list is as follows, and I will try to cover all topics by the time I am done, in no particular order... and if I'm successful, I shall have them all tied together by the end.
Say a prayer to whatever gods you may worship, and strap yourselves in...

    * Male (not that I don’t want to read females, but the majority of the blogs I read are written by females)
    * Photographers (or artists in general)
    * Writers (published or otherwise)
    * Animal lovers
    * Funny people
    * Travelers
    * Readers
    * Married/About to be married
    * Inspiring


  I, Velocigoose, am a Man. It's true, both physically and mentally. Unlike other great men in my time who have been writers, my favorites being Hemingway and Thompson, I am not a writer at all.  I'm not saying that I don't do my damnedest to use correct grammar and proper spelling, however, my midwestern side does shine on occasion.
  I was raised a poor black child in the cotton fields of Alabama with my family of sharecroppers, working for everything that we never had, except a roof over our heads and some cornmeal for sustenance. Up before dawn, I'd head out into the fields with my burlap sack and the blisters on my tender feet still aching from the day before.  It was a harsh life for a two year old, but I managed. We had to put food on the table, and everyone had to chip in.  I did, now and again, shirk off some of the responsibility of being the 12th oldest sibling in the house... managing to slip away for a mid-afternoon skinny dip with my faithful pet mule, Conrad, and my soon-to-be wife, Darletta.  Oh, how I loved that girl, she was so much more mature than I was, being five, and already she had 3 children from a previous marriage.  That didn't matter to me, though, she taught me more in those few short summers than I had ever dreamed of learning in the rest of my years.
  Just her and I, naked in the swimming hole... Conrad and his camera close by. It was perfect.   Until the pictures surfaced on the internet. Her dad, a traveling salesman, "accidentally" came across them one evening while he was in a motel in Detroit. Less than a week later, Darletta was gone...destined to live on the road with her Pa, she became a world traveler in her own right..but thats her blog to write, not mine.  She did send me a couple of letters after we were forced to break up, mainly about funny people she'd met while on her adventures.

  The one that I remember best is about this young kid, his name was Duke... he used to run all over the place with his buddies Dan and Opie, and his sister Leanne, looking high and low for his dad, Garth...getting in all sorts of misadventures. Oh, the laughs that they had... it still makes me smile.  I told her that if she ever published her letters, that she'd end up with multitudes of readers and followers..probably almost to a cult-like status, all over the world.

  All I can hope to do is follow in her footsteps and attempt to channel her creativity a little bit, faithfully following her beacon of light in the world of literature, and hopefully entertain you all a little bit while I do it.




  Not sure when or if I'll come up with another post, but keep in touch followers... all 17 of you. If you nag enough, I shall write... but if you act as if you don't care, then I won't either.  Still, I love you guys, and thanks <3.

-Velocigoose

Drunken blogging 101

First lesson, don't try and edit previous posts.

I'm on #8 out of 24 beers...yay for alcohol.
Here is what I'm currently listening to -

The Vacation Saga - part deux

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The Official Velocigoose Vacation Chronicle

Well, its vacation time for the elusive Velocigoose. Everyone is leaving the household to actually "go" on vacation, meaning its just me here... I figured I'd go ahead and take the same time off from work and just sit home and enjoy the quiet.
When I say sit home, I mean that literally... we're currently a 1 vehicle household, meaning that I've got no wheels for roughly the next week.
So here's what I've done so far...

I came home.

Ate a sandwich.

Laid down for a nap.

Woke up at 12:30 a.m.

Won the poker shootout on facebook.

Checked bank account to see if I'd been paid.

Ate a donut.

Started this blog post.

So what do I do now? I've accomplished nearly everything I wanted to do in the first 11 hours, and I've still got like 6 days to go. I've taken vacation time before, it's not like I'm a stranger to it or anything...ok, I guess technically my previous vacation times were called unemployment... but the sentiment is still the same, right?

Any suggestions to break up the boredom while being home alone? (other than writing more blog posts... I'm already bored with that.)

Remember when I said "this is not a new post?"...

well, its still not...technically.
I know I've been slacking a bit, but what can I say except I'm sorry...work has been slow, so some of my material is drying up.
On the plus side, starting tomorrow at 5 pm cst, I'm on vacation for about a week... everyone is leaving the household except for me, so I'll have plenty of time to write. naked. eating cheetos.

Let that sink in for a bit, and I'll see you all soon with some fresh stuff for you  =)

No Title yet... I'll get back to you

So I had a dream last night. Some of you might think "meh, so what, I have dreams every night..", and thats cool..but this is a special occasion for me, because I rarely remember any dreams I have. I had one last week, but it was so utterly weird that I just chose to forget it... this one is a bit different.

Any amateur or professional dream interpreters out there, feel free to pick this one apart.

I woke up and got out of bed and started walking...where I was walking to, I have no flipping idea. Why I was wearing my sneakers in bed, I also have no idea...but when I was walking, I was wearing shoes, some cutoff camo fatigue shorts I have, and no shirt...just my blanket wrapped around me, dragging it behind me on the ground like a drowsy 4 yr old.
I'm not sure where I went, but I apparently made it there and suddenly realized it was time to go home... so I started walking home. I went down an alley..not a dark, dangerous, big city alley...just a regular semi-suburban alleyway... driveways for parking behind houses, etc.  I walked past a woman climbing down a ladder, apparently one of those ladders on the back of a big RV or motorhome (at least I thought it was).. she paid no attention to the strange half naked guy wearing chuck taylors and a blanket walking down her alley...focusing more on the guy that was getting out of the drivers seat of her RV. Then I noticed the RV was her home...literally. They had build an actual structure around/onto the motorhome... like building onto a trailer or something.  I found that odd, but kept walking.
The trees became slightly more bare as I walked down the alley, eventually just being big sticks coming out of the ground... void of leaves completely, which is also odd, considering it was springtime about 1 minute ago.  I passed another group of people that were just standing in the alley, looking over a chain link fence at something in the backyard. I paid them no mind, since it wasn't my backyard... I didn't even know where my backyard was, I was lost or something, but wasn't worried about it at all. I knew the direction I was heading was back home to my bed again.
As I got farther down the alley... yes, this alley seemed to go on forever, they should have put up snack stands or something for these long lost travelers such as myself... I felt a pinch on the upper part of my arm, on the backside of it. I reached around and pulled back fingertips that were bloody.
My blood.
Except, it was black. Black as the blackest darkest black you can imagine. (wtf, I have black blood in my veins... keep British Petroleum away from me, please.)
I heard a voice yell behind me, a deep thundering voice... not creepy like demonic or humbling like some deity... deep and thundering like when you see someone yell in a movie and its all slow motion.
They yelled "NOOOOOOOO..."

Then I felt it.

I got bit on the ass. 
And it hurt, a lot.

I'm not talking about like bit on the ass cheek, I mean I had just gotten bit right square on my ASS... like, right between my buttcheeks on my ASS!
I did some sort of kung-fu ninja reach behind grab maneuver and grabbed whatever the fuck just bit me... and it was a dog, the same dog that half a second before had jumped up and bit me on the arm.
A huge fucking german shepherd. And when I say huge, I mean like easily 175lbs great dane mastiff type huge. Except it was a shepherd.
I had a hold of him by the top part of his muzzle, which surprised him enough to let go of my ass, thankfully.. apparently he was used to being the top dog in a fight (sorry about the pun).. but I'm tougher than a dog, and I didn't let go. I held on with that hand, grabbed the lower part of his mouth with my left hand and jerked down, effectively dislocating his jaw.

Haha. I win, fido.
Then I seen his 2 brothers charging down the alleyway after me too. The next one jumped at me and grabbed my blanket, trying to rip it off of me, but I snatched him up by his throat and kind of choke-slammed him on his back into the gravel... he yelped and scrambled to get the hell away from me, since he knew he was going to lose.
Dog #3 was being held back by the owner (one of the people staring over the fence at the backyard), but not very securely since the dog was bigger than him... but I was ready to whip his ass too, just in case he got loose.

Just as I secured my blanket again, feeling my blackened blood trickling down my leg and my arm, setting my feet firmly and waiting for the last dog to come after me... I woke up.


Whats most disturbing about this dream to me, though, is the fact that I love dogs, especially german shepherds, and dogs love me.  I don't get why they were after me.

It made me sad.

Is it next week yet?

Ok, yeah, I know... I said I wasn't going to post until I "cleared up some things" that I couldn't communicate to you in a comical manner.
I lied.
I really don't know how I'm to convey this, except in its actual true and unembellished form.

You guys, I'm having the WORST WEEK EVER.
Maybe not like -the- worst week ever... I mean, it's not like that week when that one guy decided he was gonna do that one thing and it ended really badly for him. But as far as bad weeks go, mines been pretty shitty.

It all started last friday, when I got paid... had a decent check, actually, and because I'm a nice fella I gave mom like 80% of it. Told her to keep it for the upcoming cell phone bill and to put it in her bank..figured we'd need it for fuel and such.  (For those of you that don't know/haven't asked... due to unforseen complications in my latest attempt at marital bliss, I was stranded in the wild back-country of Kentucky for a couple of months and finally made my way back home where my mom was gracious enough to let me stay until I was back on my feet financially...unfortunately, its turned into a catch-22 and if I leave, we're both in worse shape than if I stay. This sucks, but what can ya do?)

Apparently she misheard me when I said I was only keeping a small amount for myself and giving her the lions share... because she felt it completely within her rights to A)piss away money unnecessarily on junk food for visiting kids instead of letting them eat whats in the house, 2)taking aforementioned kids out to eat and playing taxi cab driver all over town using up a vast amount of expensive gasoline, Infinity) rewarding the bad behavior of my jobless, shiftless, stoner nephew (who just wrecked his car beyond repair the night before) by giving him money TO GO TO A CONCERT 100 MILES AWAY IN ST LOUIS.
Mom: It's ok, he said he'd pay me back.
Me: He has no job, hasn't had a job longer than a week in at least a year...now he has no car to even look for a job.
Mom: well...

Let's jump up to Sunday.
I go to work, its Memorial Day weekend, big sale... of course, the economy is shit so nobody wants to buy anything. Big Boss calls down from his tower in the sky (really its a back office in a store up north of us... tower in the sky just sounds more ominous) and bitches at the Manager on Duty because our sales suck. MoD bitches at us. I tell MoD to stfu and try harder. He goes and sulks like a pre-schooler.
MoD (whom I really and honestly just dislike... its hard for me to like anyone if I have zero respect for them in all facets of their life.) commences to follow me around like a puppy dog for the next 2 days.

The rage is building.

Monday, I swing by the closest gas station to grab some smokes and then head home. Writers block follows. I post music videos instead. (the gas station comes into play later)

Yesterday I carefully check my bank balance online, crunch numbers with a PEN AND PAPER GUYS!!! I actually did MATH! Thats how seriously I took this... and decided I could buy a soda at work. I get depressed about money again, finish my shift and head home.
I sit down for dinner and mom tosses the new cell phone bill at me. Expecting just a minor raise in it, since we added my line to her plan last month (on her billing cycle date, mind you), I felt my jaw drop.

$432.00?!?!
What. The. Fuck.
I call customer service...tell them we were fully assured that there would be no pro-ration because we were making this change on the cycle date. I'm told tough shit (in a nice way) and to take it up with the store staff. I ask about at least waiving the activation fee for my phone and upgrade fee for mom's new phone...at least peel off that amount of nearly 60 dollars. Again, too bad so sad... go ask the store if they'll do it, we can't do that anymore.
I check the receipt to see if I can use the threat of just taking the phones back within the 30 day period. It's been 32 days. fml.
On top of everything else, my phone gets crap service in my house...and it dropped the call while I was telling customer service how thoroughly disgusted I was with the whole situation.

I feel the rage bubbling up in my throat.

Arizona says things will get better. I try to stay optimistic, but am having trouble keeping the faith.

Today, I figure it couldn't get worse, right?
I roll into work, have a fairly easy first hour... socializing a bit, having a cup of coffee, head out for a smoke. Then New Girl comes in... she looked a bit distraught.
Me: Hey, how's it going?
New Girl: umm..who is driving the blue minivan out there?

Me: I am. why?
New Girl: well, it was totally an accident, but thewindcaughtmydoorasiwasgettingoutanditsmackedintothesideofyourcarandthereisabigwhitestreakandpaintsmissingandi'mreallysorrybutitwasn'tonpurposeiswear
Me: *sigh*

I mean, seriously, can -anything- else go wrong this week?

I check the van for damage, figure I'll deal with having it fixed at some point and will just suffer the bitching and growling from mom until I do.

I need some aspirin... I check bank account to make sure I can grab a soda.
I have $0.12 in my account. *whew* at least I'm not overdrawn.
Then I notice I still have a pending charge for the soda I bought 2 days ago...I'm going to get hit with a 35.00 overdraft fee because of a 1.37 diet coke... and the reason I'm going to be overdrawn, was because the gas station cash register DOUBLE CHARGED ME!!!!!!!
My eye starts to twitch a bit.
I call the gas station, give the manager all the details including the number of the receipt and tell him I'd like the charge refunded.
Manager: Well, its nothing I can do right this second, but I'll look into it and get back in touch with you.
*sigh*

At least my cat hasn't died... she's still cuddly and cute and loveable and.. and...

and she just bit the ever-loving holy shit out of me when all I was doing was petting her.

*fml*
I give up.

The Good Lord will take care of you, again... I'm not so sure about me, though.

I just finished reading my bestest bloggy buddy's latest over on her page,  http://paigebaker.blogspot.com and read about some masks and scars. Once again, she's right on the money.. and while I'm not nearly as poetic as her (as I've proven), I know a little something about masks and scars. Especially scars.
Even if you manage to put them out of your mind, the damage is still done and you're still haunted.

Everyone has scars, some of us just carry them on the inside.

Not sure when I'm going to post again, since I'm going through some "things" and can't quite express them in the comical manner you've become accustomed to... until then, enjoy one of my favorites by the John Mayer Trio, and I'll see you soon enough.

Goin to Mississippi

I'm not really going to Mississippi, but if I were... I'd want to go with an old Chicago blues man like Magic. Enjoy, gang.  =)

The night before...

Restless sleep.
Tossing, turning, writhing.
Bright blue eyes replaced by vacant black orbs.
I'm awake again.
Today, I will make pies and try to forget the dreams from the night before.

To no one in particular

and for no particular reason...

Twitter is for voyeurs, Internet is for agoraphobics, Real life is for douchebags

Today was a long day.
I woke up after only like 5 hours of sleep, head pounding because of this godforsaken monsoon weather we've been having, and had to start "tweeting". Two hours later I woke up again and had to start "tweeting". Throughout the entire day, I had to "tweet".

What did I tweet about? Not a goddamn thing of importance. However, I still managed to pick up 2 more followers on Twitter. This leads me to believe one thing.

You are all voyeurs.

I am not, however, and exhibitionist... and I've failed you. I did nothing astounding that was worthy of your following me all day long, I jumped through no hoops, saved no orphans from a burning building... I didn't even set the building on fire that the orphans stay in.

Good god, I'm boring.



So here's what I've done, I've lounged around most all day doing absolutely nothing... until a couple of hours ago when I struck up a conversation with my new bloggy buddy about homeless people, drug addicts, and internet pirates.

It started about the pictures on her latest blogpost, then centered around our own experiences with friends and family...but in the end, it landed its focus squarely upon me.

So, here it is, world. I'm going to lay it out for you.

I'm fucked up. Seriously.
I don't mean like "huh huh huh, dude. I'm so wasted right now, brah..pass me another natural light."
I'm also not fucked up in the manner that I would be exploring methods of transportation in order to make it to White Castle.
But mentally, yeah, I'm a little cracked.



Granted, this mental condition I have is purely self-diagnosed. That doesn't mean its still not there.

It really started a few years back when I was still making rather poor choices in life, like going out and drinking heavily and drag racing down main street. That particular choice cost me my drivers license and 100 hours of court ordered alcohol classes.

I've never been unintelligent, and it was obvious to me that I was wayyyyy smarter than the jokers that were providing this specialized "rehab" service to us poor wayward individuals. What I was actually forced to go through was in way, shape, or form rehabilitation... they were just there to make a buck.
But, because I'm extremely charming and can manipulate and divert thought processes and conversations, I was actually deemed by them, on the paper that I took back to court, a "social drinker"... truth be told, at that point in my life I was a drunk.
I was very much self-aware of my functioning alcoholism, I could have been a poster boy for it. I was so self-aware of it that I could hide it from everyone else and make them believe I wasn't a danger to myself.
I was never much on drugs, per se. The worst I'd ever really done was smoke weed back in high school, and decided that I wasn't going to do that anymore when I turned 18. I mean, c'mon... I was only 18. I was on a budget. I could only afford 2 out of 3 vices, so I chose the two I enjoyed the most..being beer and cigarettes.

But lets fast forward a bit... I drank, mainly, because I liked to drink. I used to drink vast amounts. It's one of the few things I've ever been really really good at. And to be quite honest, except for a couple brushes with the law because I consciously made bad decisions thinking I would get away with it (see driving while intoxicated)...it was never a problem.
Now I don't drink. Not because it turned into an issue, but just because I don't really feel like it.

I have a new addiction now. It's worse than drinking, but at least its cheaper.

It's called the Internet.

It doesn't matter what part of the internet, that makes no difference.
WoW? all day long.
Facebook? I'm there, baby.
Random people I meet on the internet? hell yeah I'll talk to you!!
Any given website? ohmahgawd did she really just do that with a pickle?

Yup, doesn't matter what it is...the internet is my drug.
I was born for this shit.



My addiction starts when I first wake up. I have to check email, then I have to check facebook, and now (thanks to my mild ocd) I have to check my blog and twitter to see if I have new followers.
Then I see that I don't, and I get paranoid... "omg, I wasn't funny enough, they didn't tell any friends about me... must... try...harder..."
Or I do have new followers, and then I'm giddy like a schoolgirl that made it out of class without getting her pigtails dunked in the inkwell that day by that dirty little bastard Timmy Malone.

But I still have to try harder. My brain starts to scramble, I sit here and thoughts race around like greyhounds chasing rabbits on meth.

"shit, what am I gonna do... I know, I'll make pies"
"w00t, that was full of win! aw shit, I have no other skills..wtf am I gonna do now?"

I become a hermit, sitting on the edge of my bed staring blankly at my laptop and mindlessly eating raspberry zingers...


empty soda cans and coffee cups arranged neatly in a row on the nightstand until there are room for no more of them.
Then I get wrapped up completely in the internet again, and my self-diagnosed agoraphobia deepens...at this point, I literally do -not- want to go outside any longer to interact with real people.
I mean, it just scares the shit out of me. Not in a "omg I can't breath" panic sort of way, but in a really weird sort of way.

The sort of way that makes it painfully obvious that people in the real world are absolute fucking imbeciles. They are. I'm not even joking.
The worst part of it is, I can't be open and honest with them in the real world like I can on the internet. It's not socially acceptable behavior.

Here, I can tell someone just how big of a douchebag (see attached picture of douchebag) they really are, and then point out 17 different reasons supporting my accusation.



If I do that shit in public, I'll get in a fight and go to jail.

Plus, people like you all are on the internet.
You bunch are INFINITELY more enjoyable to converse with than anyone I know in real life. People in real life are all like "heh heh...how about that game?"... .and I'm like " I DON'T EVEN LIKE SPORTS YOU FUCKWAD, I'VE TOLD YOU THAT LIKE 27 GODDAMN TIMES NOW!!!"
at least that's what I say in my head.

Oh oh... and people in real life... they smell.

Like some of them, they smell fucking HORRIBLE!

And half the time they do that shit on purpose!! I mean, I could understand if your plane went down and you just spent the last 65 days in backcountry hiking your way to civilization, sucking the sap out of pine cones and chewing on pebbles to survive... you might smell just a little odd.
But no, some of these people parade around in their skinny jeans and hipster glasses wearing some crap they got at the outlet mall and paid $47.00 per ounce for... and I have to stop and wonder just who in the HELL tied them down this morning and sprayed them like a feral cat with that foul smelling stench, then forced them to wander the streets like a down-on-her-luck french prostitute?

It's like they lost a bet.

Oh, and the girls.

Omg the girls these days. They actually do scare the shit out of me.
You don't know how old anyone is anymore...

I can't talk to any female in person unless she's got crows feet around her eyes, for fucks sake.
Jesus, I say hi to someone and grin... next thing I know I'm getting the partyvan on my front lawn.


It's no wonder I'm single.

Whats even worse than the girls are the boys! Don't even get me started on them.


This picture is also able to be swapped with the douchebag picture previously posted.

Ok, so I guess this went from "Twitter is for voyeurs" to "Hello, My name is Velocigoose...*hello velocigoose*" to a rant showing why my blog is named what it is.

sorry about that, I'll do better next time.

Not really a post.... yet.

It's roughly 3:30am and I'm going to bed.
This is just an update for those of you following me here, and more importantly on Twitter.
In an effort to understand better what exact purpose this meaningless entity known as "Twitter" serves humanity, I'm going to "tweet" everything tomorrow. I'm not entirely sure how long, maybe 10 hours or so? At the end of this, I'll be compiling it all and attempt to create a post here in order to decipher it... so feel free to "tweet" back, offer suggestions, and invite your friends to do the same.

http://twitter.com/velocigoose
or @velocigoose for those of you that are already on there.

A Day of Glory aka "what would you do for a piece of pie?"

So yesterday was pretty awesome for me. Not only did I get to show off my mad baking skills, make an internet friend happy on her B-day, and gain a multitude of followers here and on Twitter... I also won the coveted Allie Brosh Birthday Award!! (known as the ABBA from now on)


What is the ABBA, you ask?



No, not those guys... although the guy on the far right looks rather serious about enjoying his tin foil speedo.

The ABBA is... well, I'm not sure what it is, to be honest. I just know that I won it, cause Allie said so... so suck on that, non-winners. /flex

The only thing left to do now is eat the pies. Being a kind and generous soul, I decided that the pies were going to work with me and I would share them... not so much because of love for my fellow minimum wage earning retail coworkers, but moreso because I knew I could get those greedy vultures to jump through hoops for free food.

All in all, out of the panel of pie tasters, I scored a 100/100. Batting 1000. A perfect 10.
I was asked why I was fixing porn laden computers instead of having my own bakery. Simply because baking is a lot of damn work, and I'm an inherently lazy individual. I would much rather sell someone a computer, fix it 90 days later because they like goat porn, then go home and play WoW and bitch about the goat porn pc's on facebook.

So, in a nutshell, I reveled in the glory that Allie Brosh has bestowed upon me... I am literally quite humbled that her, boyfriend, and 7 others have decided I'm interesting/funny enough to start following my blog/tweets. I'm even more humbled that Mrs. Macready was following me before this all started.

I love you all, I really do. And totally not in a creepy "get in the van" type of love...

I present to you, my coworker...forced to pose for a picture in his best Velociraptor stance, all for a piece of Allies celebratory birthday pie.



(and I didn't bother with the scales today, c'mon, I had pie to eat.)

Operation: Awesome (aka Allie Brosh has a birthday)

So the buzz started about 3-4 days ago.. Allie Brosh was having a birthday. I immediately began to feel the wheels churning in my brain...wtf was I gonna do to make her smile on her birthday and maybe stand out from the crowd ever so slightly??

Easy. I'll make her a birthday pie.

You may say "but why a pie, Trav?". Well, because pie > cake.

So off I went to the store to get supplies... ez-bake pie crusts, some filling, some... oshit. I don't even know what kind of pie she likes. Back home I go and venture onto the internet.
Luckily Allie is a down-to-earth and approachable type of girl.. I mean, she's following me on Twitter, so surely I can ask a small personal question of her. I post my question on her Facebook page and wait. Then I wait some more.
Jesus H. Christ on a Cracker, is she ever going to check her damn facebook?

Screw this, I'm going to bed.

I was happy to find that the next morning, she had actually replied after apparently giving the question much thought... so off to the store I go. again.


Freshness!!


Only the best ingredients for you, Allie... pie filling is supposed to be chilled, right?

So I have a bunch more pics that I was going to make this long blog about and attempt to be humorous about it...however, I didn't cut off a finger when slicing bananas, nor did I blow up the kitchen when baking the pie crusts... I didn't even make a mess when making the meringue from scratch.
All in all it was pretty damned uneventful and boring. I failed.

So how could I make this exciting? With fire.
Me : *calls mom* "Mom? how much is a bottle of brandy?"
Mom: "why?"
Me : "I'm going to set some pies on fire in the kitchen and take pictures..."
Mom: "..."

Ok, so that idea was shot down quickly by all parties involved. So then I started contemplating how difficult it would be to just track down and set fire to Justin Beiber. I figured that would take a little too much effort, even though the idea itself would be fully embraced by the majority of the worlds population.

So, in the end, I just made the boring birthday pies... but they're Allies birthday pies, so that makes them THE MOST AWESOMEST FUCKING PIES IN THE UNIVERSE EVER!!!!!!!



And just to drive the point home of just how awesome this day really is, I've illustrated it in a personal birthday card -


so, in conclusion, I hope you've had a completely awesome birthday, Allie...and I hope that my efforts have made you smile a little brighter and know you're a little more loved than you were 10 minutes ago <3

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLIE BROSH

This is where a title should go...

I knew this was going to be a somewhat futile endeavor... day 3 and I'm already suffering writers block.

Saturday was fairly uneventful, except for the fact that I actually spend a decent portion of the day talking to new girl. Turns out, she's not really outwardly batshit crazy, at least no crazier than any other girl I've ever talked to... which may turn out to be a bad thing, but only time will tell.

I was the only one to weigh in, since I was the only one working... I gained back 1 pound, so I was at 228 lbs. I continued to eat like a ravenous wallaby the rest of the day/night and went to bed.

Sunday came early, I woke up before 7 am for no reason other than a pounding headache. I get those frequently. Like every day, all day. I've self-medicated for the last year and a half, taking roughly 6 to 9 excedrin a day to curb the throbbing pain in my skull.

I figured I'd actually start trying to eat better today, so I only had 2 pieces of bacon and some coffee. Then got to work and grabbed a diet soda and a snickers bar. Then told my department manager to shut his goddamn face up after I'd been there about 3 hours, watching him do absolutely nothing the entire night before and all morning long..then having the balls to accuse me and a coworker of standing around and not keeping busy.

Then it was lunch time, so I took one of the cashiers out to Taco Bell and had a couple tacos. Ok, it was like 3 double decker tacos. And a caramel apple empanada.

But I did have a diet soda with lunch, so it evened it out. I weighed in and was still standing strong at 228 lbs.

Tomorrow and tuesday may be a little tough, and I'm probably not going to post until tuesday night... I'm working on a side project for my favorite internet writer/comic, Allie Brosh.

Just in case you've never read her stuff, check out her blog Hyperbole and a Half. (It's over in my links of people I follow... not literally follow, that'd be creepy)

Good Night, Mrs. Macready, wherever you are...

Lazy day

So no work yesterday, which means I had a chance to sleep in...until like 9:03 am, when some douchebag decided it was the perfect time to come over and trim the shrubs next door. However, I didn't realize trimming the shrubbery required a 300hp nitrous injected chainsaw.

Other than that, lazy day all around. Rudely awoken, hopped in the car and made my way to the other side of town for some errands and decided to stop by work. Told the boss I was gonna need some time off in about a month, no problems there, and decided to go ahead and weigh in again.

Boss said he'd gone to work out the night before, he looked like someone had beaten him with a ballbat. I'm not sure what Sasquatch had done, but it was probably fairly consistent with his usual routine of sitting at home listening to Rush Limbaugh and drinking cheap beer.

Day 2 results -
Sasquatch - 268 lbs
Boss - 222 lbs
Me - 227 lbs

WHAT?!? 227 lbs?
Clearly I am a master of weight loss, I went home and ate like a horse and still lost 4 pounds.
So what do all dieters do when they have a huge victory such as this? You give yourself a treat! Lunchtime was right around the corner so I figured a little extravagance was necessary... however I still need to keep on top of the game, because I'm not about to lose this competition.



*note the seriousness of how I am approaching this entire affair - you can obviously tell I'm in this to win by the fact I'm drinking a diet soda.

So, off to work this morning, will hopefully have something interesting to post for tomorrow =)

Crazy Chicks, Porn, and Big Losers

Hey there. Welcome to my first attempt at blogging.
I'm going to warn you upfront that I am not in any way, shape, or form a literary genius... I do good to manage a proper ellipsis. For those of you that have no idea what an ellipsis actually is... nevermind.

So I walked into work today, walking as slowly as possible in the downpour of rain because 1) Its work. Nobody wants to go to work. And B)It was the first day of work in my store for a new transfer from some store up north. The only problem was that we were pre-warned by an ominous phone call from the store... this girl is supposedly batshit crazy. Like to the point of she goes by 2 names, one name or the other depending on the mood she wakes up in I guess. "She's bi-polar." the boss told me. "I dated a bi-polar chick for almost 2 years, this bitch is schizophrenic" I calmly replied. "Either way, we have to watch what we say around her... she doesn't take to joking, I hear." *sigh* fml.

Anyway, fast forward from that conversation up to my walking through the parking lot in the rain.
Have you ever been out and about but suddenly feel like you're being followed/watched/stalked by some lunatic with a dead bloody rabbit in one hand and a butcher knife in the other? Good. We're on the same page.
That's the feeling that overcome me as I reached the entrance, so I deftly moved off to my right and fished around absentmindedly in my shirt pocket like I was actually trying to find something while looking over my shoulder to see her approaching.
Hmm. She didn't look crazy. Just the same, I let her go in first and stood outside listening for the sound of gunfire for a couple minutes.

The first couple of hours at work were somewhat uneventful, just the normal routine. "Trucks here, get the freight" "aww, balls." *15 min later* "Tech to the front please, customer needs assistance with a computer" "aww, double balls."
There stands a well dressed middle aged professional, much like all of my customers, carefully holding his laptop in his arms. "Hi there, having a computer issue?" I asked. "Yeah, I am..(quiet tone)i think i have a virus, must have been the kids playing around"
Open computer.
Power up.
Immediate pop-ups and spam.
"You were looking at porn, weren't you?"
"What?"
"nothing... 169.99 to fix it"
"Sure, can you have it done before the wife gets off work?"

Then comes over our delivery driver, whom I've affectionately nicknamed Sasquatch. "I gotta go grab a light lunch before our weigh-in" Hmm. "Wtf are you talking about?"
"Oh, Boss and me are having a Biggest Loser contest."
"Whats the prize for winning?"
"I dunno, we haven't decided."
"I want in."

So, weigh in results are as follows:
Day 1 -
Sasquatch - 270 lbs
Boss - 224 lbs
Me - 231 lbs

Insecurity kicks into overdrive. When did I gain 6 pounds? WHY AM I SUCH A LARDASS?!? ITS NO WONDER EVERYTHING WITH A VAGINA HATES ME!!

Fast forward to end of shift, we're all hanging around the register and Sasquatch brings up my idea in the open.."We probably should have opened this to the entire store."
For those of you that have had a crazy ex-girlfriend, or even those of you that may have -been- a crazy ex-girlfriend... insert crazy look here.

New girl - "So are you saying I'm fat?"

Awkward silence ensues. I quietly leave to go home.

Hellbent on winning this contest and dropping my body weight down to a slim and sexy 190 lbs, I immediately sit down for a healthy dinner and eat 2 large poor boy sandwiches, a large scoop of au gratin potatoes, 4 forkfuls of green beans, finished with an ice cream sandwich or two for dessert.
Oh, and a diet coke. Balance is everything, right?