Mike "N" the Mechanics

You Get what you pay for.

2011-07-20T19:43:00.000-07:00

My Mother use to cut my hair, she might as well of put a large Tupperware bowl on my head and trimmed around it. I would show you the proof but I burned all of the pictures. After putting my foot down my Father took me one of the local barbers. He was 90 and half blind, after almost cutting off my ear twice my Father agreed that maybe he should retire and we could try the other barber. Don Kellogg was a retired army barber from the way far right. He had various political cartoons hanging on the wall next to a loaded weapon. There were also six photos of haircuts you could choose from, never mind you always got a modified "High n Tight" or a "Flat Top". I think he flipped a coin in his head to pick for you.

After a couple of years of that my Mom took me to the "Beauty Nook" where most of the local "Ladies" would get their hairs did and an earful of gossip. Maybe this is where I became gay? I always pretended to not be listening to all of the salacious dirt while I rummaged through the pick a prize toy chest that was filled with treasures from the orient(Cha Cha China). I'm not sure why we stopped going there, I can only assume my Mom was the topic of a round of gossip.

The next haunt was Harumi's Salon and nail, nail was written Very small as I recall she hated doing them. I got my haircuts there up through high school, I loved it. Hair wash, massage and she always knew how I liked it. I never had to say a word.

After college I found a girl that I grew up with had gone through the Gene Juarez academy of Beauty and she would cut my hair for a twenty and it was always perfect! I got spoiled not having to explain to someone how to cut my hair. I mean isn't that their job? shouldn't they be able to look at my head and just know what will look best? I moved off of the Island and lost my regular Stylist. I spent the next five years bouncing from shop to shop looking for a happy ending with no luck.

Three years ago I moved to Denver, I have tried no less than twenty five different people. Floyd's has done better than most and they give a great back massage but I have become kind a cheapskate when it comes to a haircut. Why pay $20 to have your hair cut????

Well tonight I have proved myself wrong again. I went to Cost Cutters. I have been there before and was treated well and walked out not hating my profile. But tonight, I walked in @ 27 minutes to closing and was greeted by Sharpie eyebrow #1 & #2. #1 asked me if I could pay ahead of time so #2 could count out the till, Mkayyyy? I payed and gave her a $5 tip. I was then told to gos sit over there in the first chair. I walked over and picked up the hair poncho to be greated by the previous clients dreads and things all over the chair. I swept them off had a seat and waited. A couple minutes later she returned annoyed and asked me what I wanted. I told her and she started digging through her drawers and then her purse to find the guard for the clippers, it was right next to her Marb 100 ultralights and her silver and turquoise encrusted Bic lighter. She buzzed away and then stopped and handed me a mirror so I could see the back, then handed me the clippers to hold so she could go talk to her baby daddy who called because he wanted to know what was for dinner. When she returned she asked me what I thought............I asked "About my Hair"? I pointed out the waves and divets in the sides of head. She strapped the hair poncho back on and proceeded to give me a sloppy "high n tight". She pulled off the poncho before I could say another word. I asked if I could have a couple of dollars back from the tip and she politely apologized, "The till is all put away". Of course it is. I looked at the clock and it was still ten minutes to closing. She told me to have a great night, so I will do just that.

I think I'll just go back and see Floyd. ;)

You can in fact pick your Family.

2010-10-27T20:56:00.000-07:00

Two, what seem to be very short years ago I moved to Denver to follow love. If I told myself ten years ago that I would not only leave the small town I grew up in but I would move 1500 miles from it I would have committed myself. I grew up knowing people from kindergarten through High School. And usually ended up in their weddings. When I moved off of the Island to the mainland in my twenties it was a culture shock. You could go to the store without seeing people that changed your diaper or your parent's. And people didn't seem to have the same close bond, they were fragmented. I made new friends but they just weren't the same and I wrote it off to the fact that people didn't grow up in a test tube like I had. I kept going back to the Rock and the good friends that had been my life for decades thinking it would never change and it doesn't get much better.

Besides my love I found something else in Denver, I found an Amazing Stepdaughter, Stepsister and Mother in law. I found a group of friends that are more like family than friends much like what I had grown up with but so much different. I found that outside the fishbowl that I grew up in there was huge beautiful world to explore and lessons to learn and new Family to meet. And best of all I found myself.

Bigotry is alive and well.

2010-09-27T18:21:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a small community as obese gay boy of bipolar Mother and Vietnam Vet. At the age of thirteen I spent my first of six summers as a commercial fisherman. My senior year of high school I lost one of my best friends in a car accident. I entered the automotive field the following year. I have been teased, mocked, harassed, I have laughed and I have cried. I am no stranger to conflict, ignorance, intolerance or the general perception of what a "Man" is or is supposed to be or not be. All of these things have shaped who I am today and wouldn't change a single thing!

At this point in my life some see me as jaded, callused or guarded. Some get the pleasure of dealing with the other me. If you are the first to come up with the fat joke or have the best one, the person who tries to get your goat has already lost because your joke is better. If a coworker calls you a "dumb fag" but you are always the one who has the answer they need, you win because you are smarter than them. If anyone tries to put you down but you can cut them deeper with your tongue or make the crowd laugh at them they become insignificant. So I thought. As I get older I have learned that all of these "rules" have only insulated me from life and keep people at a distance that prevents you from truly living life.

The last two years I have made considerable changes and I have grown because of them. One of the major changes was the decision to stop living in the closet. I was teased for being a fag at a job once long before I knew I was gay. Years later I watched a coworker get laid off after rumors circled that he was gay. The fact is that I work in an industry filled with straight men. And as far as we have come on the subject, there is still a vain of insecurity and intolerance beating in our workforce.

There are currently six people at my job that I am open with. And none of them care, they don't see me any differently or I no longer care if they do. I never realized how much energy it took to put up a front or how great it can be to have real friends at work. Which brings me to today.

All of the customer's keys are kept in a cupboard next to my boss's office door. As I reached to open the cupboard door my boss asked me through the open door if I had a Girlfriend. I walked into his office with a puzzled look hung on my face. "No, Why"? He said that he always sees me on the phone early in the morning and thought it might be a Girl. Without any thought I responded " I'm Gay so that would make it My Boyfriend". Now, I need to stop and say this. If you know me at all then You know I have a certain sense of humor and a knack for delivering shocking bullshit with a straight face. And on literally five occasions of coming out to someone they thought I was kidding and I had to convince them that I was in fact being "straight" with them. Well, my boss's reaction was "No, your not gay your from Seattle". Me, "Because all homosexuals are from San Francisco"? Boss, "Yes, and then spread East". Me, "Like the Plague"? Boss, "Yup".

In that moment I had no words. I kept trying to read him to see if he was serious. I started to rationalize that I had put those words in his mouth. But he didn't disagree. He didn't laugh. I turned on my heels and walked out of his office. I called my partner and told him the story still in shock and disbelief. The rest of the day I kept bouncing from the verge of tears to rage and back again. I recalled the numerous times that he had referred to difficult customer as "That Faggot" or the girl who he didn't hire because when he asked her why she looked like a boy she said it was because she liked Vagina. From the beginning I though he was a douche but now I am loading him in the the right winged bus with Ann Coulter and the Fox News staff to be driven off a cliff.

I guess I only have myself to blame, I have done such a good job not being myself that people will let their true colors show? Unfortunately if I had been open from the beginning I wouldn't have this job or this great lesson of life.

I can not change what people think of me, I can only continue to grow into the person that I am and try to learn tolerance along the way. In the words of the great Flavor of Love contestant Saaphyri, "Lord give me strength not to beat this Bitch's Ass".

Has anyone seen Lip Chap?

Wood

2010-08-25T19:31:00.000-07:00

Hi! So it has been 11 months apparently since my last blog. I am not sure if it was the whole sidetracked by life thing or that I just didn't feel like I had anything witty to say. At some point the draw to blog was gain fame. And then I realized that there was five or so of you that tolerate my misspelled poor form of humor and generally tilted view of things. But to my five adoring fans and loving Husbear I promise to write you all into my will.

Felling the need to entertain myself and all y'all I asked a question of 25 or so people today. That question has been haunting me on and off for years now and I feel that it is time to put it to bed. Well that and the fact that it was really slow at work today and I had no intention of mentally participating in our technician meeting today. The question in question is: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Now I understand that this was not intended to be a riddle as much as a rhyme and is most likely just a rhetorical question designed to be a conversation starter. But what if it is really a riddle to be solved? Having the interwebs in my pocket I Googled this very question and the first thing that I found out was that a woodchuck and a groundhog are the same thing. See, I thought the same thing........bullshrimp! Why would there be two separate names for the same furry pelt. Go ahead, do your own research I will wait. Marmota monax is known as the groundhog, woodchuck and landbeaver. Dont say I never taught you anything.

Anyhow I received a dozen "A woodchuck could chuck........", Two "Assloads" and a few other random guesses. The closest being 100 lbs submited by a Graduate of the Colorado school of Mines. My favorite answer was "Personally I can chuck about 7 inches. After that there's a little gagging".

Not felling like I had a solid answer and figuring that someone somewhere had been paid by our government to figure this exact thing out I turned once again to Google. Questions were raised by some as to the woodchuck's desire to chuck wood, the density of said wood, his need to chuck the wood and his ability to chuck wood. But then like a beacon of truth in the fog there it was.

The amount of wood that woodchucks would chuck on a given day varies greatly with the individual woodchuck. According to a Wall Street Journal article, New York State wildlife expert Richard Thomas found that a woodchuck could chuck around 35 cubic feet of dirt in the course of digging a burrow. Thomas reasoned that if a woodchuck could chuck wood, he would chuck an amount equal to 700 pounds.

I am now content and will sleep in peace knowing that if a woodchuck can chuck 700 lbs of wood then I can write another blog, stay on a diet and go back to the gym.

Leather Line

2009-09-22T20:03:00.001-07:00

In an attempt to enjoy the last few days of Summer Jrod and I drove up into Wyoming to drive around Medicine Bow Natl forest. Most of the Aspens had already turned a fiery yellow orange. If you ever get the chance I strongly recommend a fall trip through this amazing park. We expected a warm sunny day, we got cool wet and windy and breathtaking.

So on the last of Summer here in the beautiful state of Colorado it snowed in the foothills. On the first day of fall I awoke to a balmy 37 degrees and a winter storm advisory. I am starting to suspect that last winter was only just a warm welcome to my move.

What is the point to all of this, nothing really. Maybe just to wish you all a happy fall. Maybe I just needed to voice my surprise at how Summer ended. When I was senior in high school and was wasting my time partying with much older friends, I was told that time would move faster and faster the older I got. I didn’t realize how true that was. The months seem like weeks and the years seem like months. I shudder to think what it will be like when I reach my forties.

Sometimes I am surprised and amused by my own ignorance. I see many stickers on cars around work. One in particular had been surprising me. It is a black and blue rectangle that I had thought was showing the pride and love of leather. I would see two or three cars a week in the shop with them. Last week a woman in her Fifties had one on her PT. Fetishes know no age I guessed. My curiosity got me. I Googled black and blue stickers. And there it was. The Thin Blue Line. Recognizes those who serve in law enforcement. It looks like the Leather Pride sticker I swear.

Mother Mary

2009-09-11T19:25:00.001-07:00

Hi Kids, Sorry it has been so long. Sometimes I think I have writer's block even though I am not a writer.
Anyhow, I was on a test drive today when I saw something I haven't seen in years,shocking really. Care to take a few guesses? Yeah, maybe not. It was a Pink Cadillac. Now, the Shocking part wasn't that there was a perfectly good CTS painted Pearl Pink. It was the fact that it had a huge Mary Kay badge on the trunk and two more on the doors. First of all, you don't need to plaster her name all over the car. Everyone and their dead Aunt Penny knows that if you see a Pink Caddy the driver is a pro at slinging Mrs K's wears. Second, Mary Kay is still making make-up?
I know very little of Mary Kay. The only real experience I have is a memory from the 80's which might be a little fuzzy. I was 13 and my Aunt was getting married to a man name Dick. Some people really do live up to their name. He lost his eyebrows the week before the wedding due to stress and the fact that he was a gold digging weasel. I was asked to be a Groomsman along with my two Cousin's and Uncle. The Bridesmaids were my Mother and her three Sister's. The Maid of Honor........a Mary Kay rep. So needless to say the make up was done by Her and Mary.
The girls looked like spackled whores. The Groom's new eyebrow's suggested he was surprised to be there. After a very long Catholic wedding ceremony without air conditioning I noticed that the warpaint worn by the ladies of the night was sagging now making them all look twenty years older and still cheap.
This was many years ago and I am sure that with Sarah Palin animal testing lipstick on pigs that Mary's products have gotten much better? At least they are still rewarding their employee's with American made luxury and not a better made knock-off assembled in America.

Damn, I forgot my shopping list!

2009-06-14T22:08:00.000-07:00

Nothing makes a trip to the store more enjoyable than finding someones shopping list they discarded in the cart or basket you grabbed. I will make up a character to fit the list every time. One of the games I play to make everyday chores seem more fun than they actually are. Today I found one to share. In order, only the names have been changed to protect the white trash.

BEER
emissionsadditive(so her Camaro can pass the tailpipe test?)
oil+filter
fender
?knife?(Guess she wasn't sure how big of a knife was needed)
Olive Oil
Ghiardelli semi-sweet
Batter

BEER seemed very important.

Talent or Ignorance, You decide.

2009-06-14T21:47:00.000-07:00

I my few short years in the blue collar workforce I have commuted long and far and sometime short distances. My longest commute involved two to four hours of fun with the Washington State Ferry System followed by a snail crawl through Downtown Seattle to reach Everett another hour or so later. My shortest was a brisk 3 minute walk through The town of Vashon Washington. The rest of my Jobs usually led me on an hour drive each way. These days I can be to work in twelve minutes by car. I actually miss the longer drive to work. It gave me time to wake up behind the wheel and listen to My favorite indulgence, the Bob Rivers Show. Well during those years of my Auto Commute I have seen people do many thing besides driving behind the wheel. Read the Paper, a novel, write a novel, apply make-up, shave, shave their head, flat iron or curl hair, brush teeth, put in contacts. You get the idea. Well last week in my very short commute I saw something I have never seen nor did I ever expect. A woman with way to much on her plate for the 24 hours in a day was talking on her phone while shaving her armpit. And all I could think was, is anybody really gonna care that much if you have pit stubble for a day?

Nothing Impotent.

2009-05-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

Most of the time I blog for the Fan Fare. Or to make a witty point. This however is totally unorganized and has no point other than to share a fraction of what goes through my head.

Now that I live in a place that has sun I truly can appreciate solar powered yard lights.Being from Seattle I thought they were just chrome pillars of hope that someday there would be enough sun to charge the batteries to get a few hours or light for free.

On a test drive I watched a Lexus RX Hybrid and a Diesel Dodge Ram drag racing stop light to stop light. I wonder if the soccer Mom in her snobby green car was scoffing at the environmental ignorance of the man in the Ram?

While driving home the one day I saw a car with eight inch letters spelling "DrivesafeColorado.com" across it's bumper. The car had just rear ended another vehicle. No Doubt they were chatting on the phone.

I work for Chrysler. My boss calls me a communist for driving a Honda. Yesterday he showed up to work driving a Honda Motorcycle. I promptly went to the parts department and stole two stickers. One says made in America with Pride. One Says made in Canada. I applied the Made in America sticker to his Cycle and the next time he drives his Dodge I will be placing the Oh Canada tag on it.

I sometimes wonder that if I had actually paid attention in school if I would be designing the same cars that I fix or if I would have done it right.

Weekend in Aspen

2009-05-10T16:14:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it’s good to go out and visit places you have never been. This weekend JRod and I were itching to get away so we hopped online and searched for cheap airfare and hotels. Not so much cheap airfare was to be had but there was some steep discounts in the Hotel department. Looking at the map we decided that a 4hour drive was acceptable and that neither of us had been to Aspen. Now when I think of Aspen, I see Stars on the Slopes. Not quite what we found.
Well, it’s spring, most of the snow has melted and the drive from Denver up into the Mountains past Breckenridge and into the Aspen Valley is breath taking. Mountain Goat herds around highway signs. Chartreuse Aspen trees against a background of brick red cliffs and fields of hunter green and Columbine blue is amazing. My camera can not do the scenery any justice.
We got into Aspen before noon and we couldn’t check into our cabin until three so we went for walk. Things seemed a bit off. There were cars parked everywhere but not many driving around and not many people out and about. Walking into a restaurant for a bite of lunch we were greeted by bored servers and vacant tables. Apparently we arrived in the four week lull that most locals take vacation from the town. After a tasty bite of lunch it was off for a drive to find Goldie Hawn’s house. No such luck. Couldn’t find Lance Armstrong’s either. Not only had most of the locals left but so had all of the Stars. We did however see amazing homes in crazy locations. One house was being built at the entrance of the National Park so it could Share the Lake. Another three were built over and around the Ute Cemetery that was established in 1888. Their porches looked over the Civil War graves and decaying unmarked tombs. I would have loved to been a fly on the wall to hear that Realtor earn their money.
Back downtown we checked into the honeymoon cabin at L'auberge d'Aspen wich is a group of quaint cabins on Main Street which is close to “the action” and cute. After we were settled we decided to head to the store for some forgotten essentials. Inside the grocery store instead of one isle of organic food and earth friendly goods it was half of the store. There was no soda or chip isle. We did find a few of those half cans of pop covered in dust they use to serve on the airplanes. We walked around one of the parks and admired huge anatomically correct sculptures of animals made out of old chrome car bumpers, and park benches dedicated to loved ones lost and memorials to various celebrities.
It was time for dinner and JRod was hungry for Austrian food so it was off to Wienerstube. This has been an Aspen landmark for over 43 years. It has recently been purchased by Harald Neuweg a renowned Austrian chef who had always dreamed of opening an Austrian restaurant in the Rocky Mountains so says his website until now. Now he says he hates the town because no one eats fattening food, they all have little dogs and ride their bikes around to the granola store. The place was empty. The Bartender/Host/Waiter looked shocked to see us. The owner and Assistant chef were outside in shorts finishing the porch. They suited up and started cooking while our host brought homemade breads and a boot full of beer. Like a glass knee high logging boot. It must have held a gallon of pilsner. After that was the best wienersnitzel I have ever had and apple strudel you would punch your mother for. With full bellies and buzzed brains we were in need of another walk and that is when we started to notice the Stepford charm of this town. There are no fat people. If you are on the street you must be riding a bike, walking a small dog or have a cell phone pressed up to your ear. Extra points for all three at once. There are no store chains or restaurant chains. Of the two grocery stores in town one is hidden in a dark corner and the other is inside a Boutique mini mall with a hardware store below it. It was like the town council had done it’s best make this a feel like a small town except with multi million dollar condos and billion dollar homes covering every inch of real-estate. Outside the store two blocks down we found Galena Street. In this area within four square blocks you will find every high end International Fashion House you can dream of. Fendi, Bvlgari, Prada, Gucci, and on and on if I did I would just be name dropping and wasting type.. You get the picture. Around this hub of decadence was art galleries, designer children’s stores, Ski Resort empire showrooms and Bear statues everywhere. If I had to describe this town in three words they would have to be Country, Patchouli and Diamonds.

The drive home was just as breathtaking. We drove past a Black Bear standing next to the freeway, I thought it was another statue, then it’s head moved then I thought it must be animatronics, this town thinks of everything. As I looked in the rearview mirror I saw it walking. Aspen is a whole different world.

McCrapalatte

2009-03-03T21:25:00.001-08:00

So I have lived in Denver for a little over four months now and there are a few things that are different from Seattle. There is the schizophrenic weather. Being 70 degrees for a few days then dropping into the teens and snowing only to return to sunny and 60 the middle of winter is just plain disturbing. Not that I miss months of straight grey and wet.

There is the lack of trees and water….Eastern Washington like.

But the one that brings all this writing purpose is Coffee. Something I took for complete granted in the Evergreen State, is the fact that every three blocks no matter where you are you can find a drive up coffee stand with a decent cup of Joe or any other steamy brew you choose. Not in Denver. I’m not sure if it is against the law or if people out here are just High on life or the lack of oxygen but they just don’t seemed hooked on the witch’s brew. They don’t even seem to know what Chai is. To drive up and get coffee takes planning or settling. There is one drive up Starbuck’s within 10 miles of my home. Not that Starbuck’s is good coffee, but it is consistent. You can get the same bitter over roasted brew at any of them. And they are proud of it. Five dollars for a large/venti whatever the fuck you wanna call it. So this leaves me with CrackDonalds. The golden arches will serve you up a similar cup of steamed milk n caffeine for half the price. Unfortunately they also have other temptations that will be the topic of another blog.

So I am hooked on amongst other things McDonald’s Café beverages. Cause I’m Lazy. The problem lies with the fact that I attract a strange breed of worker @ the drive-through. There are three Golden Arches between home and work. I had to stop going to the first one because the girl who is always working has a crush on me. Flattering you would think except all of the enamel is rotting off of her teeth and she likes to wear plastic pearls and a “Hello Kitty” button on her shirt. One day she commented on how I must be rich. I can only assume because I have all of my teeth and I keep my car clean. The other problem is the beverage girl that always hands me my drink says “Here is your McCafe Latte hot like you like it”........I shit you not.

So onto Arch number two. The operator of this drive up window rotates his accents between Scottish and Russian. Yep. One day it’s “Top o the morning to you” the next is a phony ass broken English early James Bond enemy dialectic. Weird!

So I tried the Dark Arch #3. As I pulled up to the loudspeaker I see what appears to be a baby diaper smeared across the menu board. No Poo Poo platter for me. As I drove off without my coffee I saw a gaggle of Latino women with Sharpie eyebrows hexing me from the drive up, I started to think the universe is trying to tell me something.

Work.

2009-01-18T20:42:00.000-08:00

So I have come to the conclusion in the short twenty years in the rat race that work is what you make of it. You can hate it, love it, just go to it, or not. At this point I think I could actually work in a shit plant and keep a positive outlook. So I prefer to play it like a game. The actual work rarely entertains me any longer so I focus on the job as my source of entertainment.
I treat my work as an episode of survivor(That "reality" game show that has been on the Fox network for a decade that I am not sure if anyone watches anymore). I like to identify the "Players" and see how I can be an asset to them and find the "Bully" to systematically destroy them and their credibility. I know it is sick but if I am going to spend 10 hours of my day doing something it must keep my mind occupied. It must be working, I dodged the layoffs and after being at my place of employment for three short months I just found out that I am the Employee of the Month. What the Fuck do I have to look forward to now? I guess it's time for pranks. Like placing McDonald employment applications on co-workers desk. Relocating employee's personal effects. Rubber cementing everything down to the desk.Placing a piece of scotch tape over the phone earpiece so they shout at customers.Or there is always Photo shop fun! Stay Tuned for next weeks exciting manufactured Drama.

What da Duck?

2009-01-18T20:25:00.001-08:00

Saturday, November 08, 2008

What da Duck?
Current mood: pleased
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

I love me some Friday, especially when I can get off early! So after work I had some time to kill so I went to get my hairs cut. Now I am a wee bit particular when it comes to a cut. It's not just the haircut, it has to be the right atmosphere. It took me 6 months to find the last place I was happy with, so after moving to Colorado I figured I would be up for a challenge. First try, I stumbled into Floyd's Barber Shoppe. Floyd's greets you with a friendly staff and a loud soundtrack fresh off of my senior year of high school play list. The walls just like my last haunt are covered in posters of singers, rockers and crooners.
For the most part the staff are young, fun and personable. Which brings me to my stylist.
As soon as I sat down to wait and gazed around the Shoppe I saw her and knew I would be stuck with Tanorexic Barbie. She wanted to be twenty again. Picture big Texas hair with overdone highlights and DARK roots. Her skin was supple like two week dead in the sun Bison carcass and the color of terra cotta roof tiles. Almost like after cooking herself in tanning beds for 30 years she decided spray tanning was where it's at. Cougar Barbie finished up with her client and escorted me to her chair (a very cool replica of a 1930-40's barber chair). After asking how I wanted it She started in with the small talk. "Wasn't last night's Game crazy". I hadn't a clue. Catching the fuzzy look on my face she took another stab "The Bronco's"! I told her I wasn't into sports and that was the last word spoken to me. From that point on she spent all of her time chatting and making eyes with any piece of hanging meat that came within five feet of her web. It was like football was her litmus paper. Any man in her chair that wasn't into Football wasn't into her lady parts and wouldn't be her next baby daddy. At one point she was massaging my back with her arm stretched out as far as she could get away so she could flirt with the UPS guy at the counter. Did I forget to mention they give Vibra Massages after each cut? Love Floyd's!
So after my minute at the Spa I headed home for a shower to get ready for Jerrod's Daughter's birthday dinner at Grandma's, that was a whole lot of possessives. Anywho, after dinner I ran out to the car to get my camera to capture all the magic of cake and presents. I speed walked back to the condo, whipped the door open to be greeted by a complete stranger with the strangest look of fear and confusion on her face. I'm not sure if it was My "What da Duck" shirt or that some 300lb man just burst into her living room. All I could do was laugh for a moment before apologizing and telling her I must have the wrong door. At least I gave her a good story for the water cooler Monday. Oh Christ on a Cracker don't get me started on Mondays.

Hope all is well with you and yours!

I must be stuck on You.

2009-01-18T19:57:00.001-08:00

Saturday, July 12, 2008

I must be stuck on you...................
Current mood: mischievous
Category: Parties and Nightlife

So you may have noticed much talk about Staplers recently and have been wondering what all the hubbub is about. Well those of you who know me, know I am a kid. End of story, kinda not really. I love to mess with people usually harmless pranks like hiding the toothpaste, toiletpaper or the one I am about to explain.

It all started a month ago at work. The parts Manager played a prank on a co worker and when confronted the Manager blamed me. My co worker in turn hosed me down with water while I was walking out of the office into the shop. So instead of directly retaliating against him I started to plot his demise.

I stole one of the Service Writer's staplers. A object she is highly attached to and uses dozens of times a day. It has been taken from her before by the sales department and her reaction was just to priceless not to see again. I held onto the stapler for two days, on the third day I heard through the grapevine that she had accused every last salesperson, the accounting department and finance of taking her crown jewel Swinger stapler. At one point she was seen frantically tearing apart the sales Manager's desk while blurting out obscenities and questioning the size of what nature had given him. that night she went out and bought a new stapler and chained it to her desk.

I am now ready to play. I start by placing the missing item in the Podium of the shop Foreman, who is the mentor of the co worker who hosed me. Within 20 minutes the service writer found her stapler in the Podium and was now verbally assaulting the Foreman. The Foreman who loves to throw people under the bus now predictably offers up his apprentice as a fresh kill to distract the less than stable Writer. Since the apprentice is at lunch he can't diffuse this little bomb yet. The writer takes her lunch shortly after. During lunch I print out pictures Jerrod sent to me from the movie Office Space. You know the large slow guy who goes through the whole movie saying "Excuse me have you seen my stapler". Along with the Pictures a note that read: "please don't be mad" signed by you guessed it.......the apprentice. That was my downfall. I got cocky. I was seen placing these objects on her computer. And the witness how now narked me off to the beast.

I think half of my work is going to bury me out in the dessert. So if you don't hear from me that's is probably most likely what happened. Or maybe I am setting them all up again? How does one get into the witness protection program?

Equal Rights?

2009-01-18T19:56:00.002-08:00

Friday, June 06, 2008

Equal Right?
Current mood: amused
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Let's start with way too much information. We can talk about my lack of boundaries later!
I have a regular morning appointment. This particular morning there was a scheduling conflict in the "board room". This forced me to find an alternate venue for my morning business. So since there is only one stall in our end of the building I was forced to try something new. So I hit up the next available alternative that just so happened to be the ladies room.
Now this is where the whole thing gets uncomfortable. I was greeted by warm lighting, granite counter tops, the smell of jasmine, complimentary hair products and lotions. A regular day spa if you will. I stuck my head back out into the hall way to see if by chance I had entered another dimension, but no. the cold dealership hallway was still there.
I really should explain my confusion. You see when I walk into the Men's Room, I am greeted by an assaulting aroma of stale piss, the flickering ambiance of dying florescent lighting, stained & peeling vinyl flooring and if I'm lucky paper towels actually in the dispenser. It is exactly what I imagine a long unattended truck stop bathroom in the middle of Fargo North Dakota would look and smell like.
So as we speak I am rallying the technicians and starting a Union so we can complain about it to someone with a title, because our Boss just doesn't seem to care that we don't have body butter and hair gel at our disposal. I can't wait for tomorrow so I can hit up the spa again!

Pierce County can read?

2009-01-18T19:56:00.001-08:00

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Pierce County can Read?
Current mood: smart
Category: Art and Photography

Once in awhile I let my guard down and actually just live life and enjoy it. And every time I do I learn a few things.

These days I find myself spending my weekends with a group a friends that is older than I, but also potentially wiser. The group has a ritual on Fridays. We usually go out to dinner, make a round through Target and then head out for coffee. This Friday was a little different. This Friday we went to a book reading put on by Pierce County Library.

I am not an avid reader by any means. Very few authors can grab my attention fast enough or hold on to it through a book so I tend to lean towards less painful Magazines. No, not pictorials, the ones with more words than skin. Anyway back to the reading. We got there early to wait for some of the others. Looking around made me painfully aware that I was not amongst peers. I was surrounded by cane and buggy wielding Seniors and a large population of Lizbeans. This was the first thing I learned. Apparently Lesbians love to read and support the Library system and even become Librarians. None of my "Sisters" had ever shared this tidbit about their clubhouse. Who Knew!

So we hearded up into the bleachers of the PLU auditorium surrounded by the spriest of the two thousand listeners. Looking around I saw something I had never seen before. A woman two rows down was making a statement. This was not your typical TLD ( Typical Lesbian Do ). Such as the infamous Mullet. This was much more uptown. It was business up front and on the side but there was no party in the back. There was a long rat tail flowing from the base of her neck. And the crown to this jewel was a pink and white rhinestone butterfly broach clipped right to the top of that tail. I am hoping this Fashionista's taste is contagious because that hair was stunning to say the least.

Pinned into the Tupperware bleacher seats waiting for the fun to begin the roar of chatter was fractured by curdling shrieks of bag pipes. I never had an opinion about bag pipes until this evening. I even remember liking some Celtic pipe from time to time. Maybe this was a special Scottish technique that I hadn't been assaulted with before? The whole 6 minutes and 37 seconds that that thing played there was this constant gaging buzz noise in the back ground of what can only be described as bad out of tune Techno dumped. That made me wonder who dreamed up this instrument of the Beast. Centuries ago was there some man wrestling a goose and in the midst of strangling said goose did it emit a squawk that sounded like music to this barbarians ear? WTF??? It stopped!

Next up was another "Sister". The Deputy Director of the Pierce County Library System. Thanking us all for supporting the slaughter of trees by using the Library System instead of just reading free e books online. Next the Executive Editor from the Tacoma News Tribune introduced the Author of the evening who I have to admit I had never heard of before. Alexander McCall. Who walked onto stage in a Kilt. I guess I should really thank him for the serenade of the dying geese.

Professor McCall turned out to be a fascinating man who had written over 60 books through his life. An adopted Scotsman born in Zimbabwe. He refereed to himself as a serial novelist. This man made me laugh to the border of incontinence. He said that a character in one of his books was a mechanic in a garage but he preferred to refer to him a Garageist. He said that a little pompousness made for good humor. I couldn't agree more. In the middle of his speaking The last point he made was that it was in fact the little things in life that made great stories. It was the little things in life that we should all rejoice and take pleasure in. The little joke that only you and your friends get. That these were the things that gave us all purpose and joy. I have heard this all before but fro some reason I really understood it coming from him. I guess I just had to hear it from a Professor with a sense of humor.

At the end of his speaking there was to be a twenty minute question and answer session that was interrupted by a request for a doctor. One of the Golden girls down on the floor was having difficulty breathing(relax it wasn't Blanch). The paramedics wheeled her away what looked to be the plushest gurney I had ever seen. I am suspicious that is was a sleep number gurney because I saw one of the paramedics put what appeared to be a remote in her hand. As I was reading one of their lips I'm pretty sure it was determined that the root of her ailment was in fact a bag pipe overdose.

I feel Dirty

2009-01-18T19:55:00.001-08:00

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Something even more embarrassing
Current mood: ashamed
Category: Music

This just might be the most embarrassing thing I have or ever will put into type.

For the last month I have been catching parts of a song on the radio & TV. I got hooked. I love the beat, the synthesized voice. I have caught myself singing the song at work.

Tonight I saw on American Idol (second most embarrassing thing) the song performed live. Any guesses? Come on, take a stab I’ll wait.

Let me give you a few hints:
She has a personality/marketing disorder.

Her porn/stage name involves a State the may or may not be known for bestiality.

Her marketing team makes Martha Stewart look like a rank amateur felon.......Hmmm, maybe that was a bad example.

Yes, Miley Cyrus/Hanna Montana.
Excuse me while I go rock myself to sleep in the fetal position. I feel like such a dirty lemming.

Fuck Momma Cass

2009-01-18T19:54:00.000-08:00

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Fuck Momma Cass.
Current mood: awake
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

So, three things you may or may not know about me. I don’t dream, I fall into a coma like sleep within minutes of laying my head on the pillow and I Hate Mondays!
I have that kind of venomous hate for the day that causes most coworkers to avoid me like the plague on the first day of the week. Except one, Mike. (Side mote: If you name your child Mike he will have to become a mechanic too.) Mike takes full advantage of my hate of Mondays to taunt me. When I am excited about Friday coming or being here Mike reminds me that we are just that much closer to Monday. This brings me to the whole reason I am rambling these words. I was drifting into said coma when I started to dream, so I thought. It was a scene out of The sound of Music. The scene in the Swiss Alps with the rolling green hills sprinkled with wild flowers. My vision started to pan left, and there was Mike the other Mechanic. Dressed in a Swiss Miss Coco girl get-up. Slowly I could here the music. A song by The Mommas and the Poppas. You guessed it! Monday Monday La La La La La over and over again like a broken fucking record. My eyes shot right open like those old spring loaded window shades that make that flap flap flappy noise when you tug on them and the shade slips out of your fingers. I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. And on the drive in the next morning? Momma I choked on a Ham and Cheese sandwich Cass echoed in my head. What a bitch! I might have to hate Tuesdays instead. I don’t think there is a song for it?

Call me Balls, James Balls

2009-01-18T19:53:00.002-08:00

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Call me Balls, James Balls
Current mood: devious
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

Like most people, I hate phone solicitors. Despite what most of my friends may say I don’t even like talking on phones. So to have someone cold call you to pitch something or ask me to take a survey really burns my biscuts. At one point I would refuse to put my phone number on any application. I was convinced that any company that I gave my number too would surely sell it to the black market just so they could call me. Narcissistic much? Anyway, this brings my to a recent situation. When you go shopping at the major grocery outlets you are forced by price to become a member of their club. If you don’t join you get to pay the ass raping inflated price. So I joined the club of the closest store and have used their card to pay reasonable prices for food and gas for years. My card wore out. You say just give them your phone number.................they don’t have that. So now I am forced to try all of my friends and family’s numbers until I find one that works. Walking back to the car it hits me.You all know I love to prank and joke. The end result is to make myself laugh and if I can crack a few of you nuts in the process it is a total bonus. So why not have some fun. You must play along! Think up a half dozen funny but believable names. Go to every different grocery store in your area that has a club or reward program. Fill out the application for a new card. When you need to fill in the address and phone numbers don’t use yours. Be creative. Use the Funeral home, Abortion clinic, STD clinic, Your favorite rehab center, Mental institution, I think you get the idea. So now after turning in all of your application let the games begin.
While leaving Safeway tonight I heard "Thank you Mr. Balls!" I laughed all the way home.

Starbucks

2009-01-18T19:53:00.001-08:00

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Starbucks
Current mood: devious
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

So in the wake of Starbuck’s 3 hour closeure in the attempt to continue excellent customer service I felt it my duty to check in. I am not a true fan of the Dark Coffe lord. They are consistent and usually open. I am more of a Forza kinda guy. But I stopped by this morning on the way to work and was greeted by my Barista "TAMI" with an "i". I had never known my help before but she was in a sharing mood. Almost like this was part of their new world domination plot, to get to know their victims. I ordered a Grande Soy Chai Scalding hot with a Cinnamon scone. Proceeding to the window it was all plastic smiles and forced courtesy. I paid my penance and got my luke warm Chai and bag of goodness. Driving away I dove into the bag and pulled out a glazed doughnut.

I am Glad Starbucks is taking the initiative to continue consistent service..........................................

A total waste of time?

2009-01-18T19:52:00.000-08:00

Monday, November 19, 2007

How much time would you spend to get back $12.41?
Current mood: apathetic
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

A person will apparently spend 7 phone calls, 2 hours and 13 minutes.

So, while out and about on a Saturday morning I decided to stop by the local Pet Emporium for some puppy treats. I make my way to the toy department find the one perfect toy in the section that does not make noise. I then head past a cloud of patchouli towards the Chewy section in search of Bully Sticks. Bully sticks come in a Variety of shapes and sizes. My Pup loves them and so do I because they keep her occupied for hours and they last days. I was then approached by the patchouli cloud disguised as a worker stocking shelves. The Militant Vegan proceeded to tell me that Bully Sticks were in fact Bull Penis. And all this time I thought they were Beef leg tendon.
This is where I must pause. I was once told that when faced with a choice you should always do whatever makes for a better story. Nine out of Ten time this will have humorous results, the other time……………a hot mess. Anyway, my response to said Hippy Chick was " Well, Daddy's little girl loves the Cock". I waited for a response, then smacked her on the shoulder and said "Know what I mean?" winked and turned and walked to the register. As the scent of Hippy faded I began to snicker. Waiting in line I daydreamed of what smart remark I might have for the checkout clerk, nothing. My items are scanned I swipe my card, enter my super secret PIN and wait. Moments pass and the clerk says Oh Yeah, the debit is broken. This handy info would have been more useful a minute ago. He reaches for my card to run it as a Credit. I get my receipt and toss it in the bag and am off on my merry way.
I do not balance my checkbook, in fact I have no idea where it is. Sunday morning I was online checking my account balances when what do I see? Not one but two debits of $12.41 with an address. My Super Sleuth instincts kick in and I head to the World Wide Web. After typing in the address it comes up with Pet Smart's Name and Number. I pick up the phone and call. After multiple choices I give up and repeatedly pound "0". I finally get a slow voice on the phone. I explain my dilemma and in response get a "Uhhh let me get someone" And I thought I had someone. Insert bad Muzak here. Another voice picks up, I again explain my dilemma. I am apologized to and told I will need to call back Monday to speak with the Manager.
Monday, I am not a fan I will admit. I prefer to call Monday Tuesday part one. I called Pet Smarts on that day of Days, and I reached Manager Terry. After explaining my dilemma, Manager Terry informed me that all financial transaction had to go through Corporate in Phoenix. She then told me to hold so she could get me the Number. After another batch of bad Muzak Manager Terry returned with the magic phone number that would solve all of my problems.
I called, and got a recording. "If you're a pet parent press "1" if you're a associate press "2" I felt important, I pressed "2". A loud beep was heard. I called again. And this time I was more humble, I pressed "1". Another beep. I don't do messages. The light went off. I can just call my bank and stop the transaction. It's my money not theirs. I call my bank, was transferred to India and spoke to a wonderfully thick accent. After I gave him my perfected pitch he told me that the transaction was still pending. PERFECT I responded then it is not to late, stop those thieves! Sir, we can only challenge the charge after it has been processed. I hung up. I might call back after they have actually stolen my money.
When I grew up I knew the owner of every store I shopped at. If you actually had a problem you could talk to someone and get it resolved.
I feel old.

I spent another 23 minutes on the Phone with India to get the charge reversed by my bank, and I don't know why.

Beauty Fades...........

2009-01-18T19:51:00.001-08:00

Monday, October 29, 2007

Beauty fades, Stupid is forever!
Current mood: blah

So when did it happen? When did I cross the line into Geritol land? Let me back up and put this into perspective.......................................
I am @ work doing what it is that I apparently was born to do, listen to co-workers bitch and moan. When I hear this 20ish lube jockey fly into a tirade about having to do another oil change. Granted, as jobs @ the dealership go this is equivalent to taking out the trash in some ways. It is not glamorous but it is a very important job. It is an opportunity to inspect a customers car for potential problems and to help the customer get the most out of their investment. A job I have done so many times in the last 12 years I don't dare count. A job I continue to do daily among other task. But for some reason this KID believes that in his vast 7 months in this business he is above and beyond changing oil.
This is a trend I am seeing more and more of. I have talked to other friends who report similar trends. People under the age of 25-28 acting self entitled and not having a work ethic. I began working on my family's fishing boat when I was 13. I have worked ever since. This is the question I have. Was there a change? Is there a trend of parents coddling or overindulging that ruined the work force. Is it that the working class has had to have both parents work to pay the bills and has substituted their lack of presence with presents? Or is this something that everyone goes through as they get older and become self righteous in the process. Is it simply my imagination or perception. Or do I just happen to be surrounded by all of the young and lazy.

I would walk 500 miles.

2009-01-18T19:50:00.000-08:00

Monday, September 10, 2007

I would walk 500 miles......................................
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Friends

Have you ever said told someone you would do something without fully understanding what you agreed to do?

I rarely do, I am cynic/skeptic. When someone ask me to do something I usually go over EVERY detail involved, whether they would do the same for me and any potential negative effects it may have. This drill has over the years prevented me from being spread to thin and most likely caused me to miss out on a few experiences.

I agreed to participate in the "Susan G 3 day walk for the cure"(of breast cancer) a proportionality long name for the walk I might ad. So my first thought was, I don't walk anywhere. I will circle the parking lot many times for the closest parking spot. So I joined a GYM to start training. I know what you are thinking, who needs to train to walk. Well lets do some math. if it takes a person 20 minutes to walk a mile (some took 30) and there are 60 miles thats 1200 minutes of walking in 3 days. I don't know about you but that is a first for me. So I trained on an elliptical and a tread mill for months, I took long walks through the Nisqually Bird sanctuary and I walked the dog. And the event came.

Here is where I didn't prepare, here is where in all of my planning I failed to account for many things. Here is where I begin to learn many things from this event.

The opening ceremonies were gut wrenching. Women told there stories of pain, survival and loss. I am a self proclaimed hard ass, I cried, buckets. But in all of the crying there was an amazing sense of warmth & family. 3200 people began the walk across the I-90 corridor seemingly less than 100 of them men. It quickly became apparent that not all share my sense of humor. A group of women recoiled after I commented that a passing driver who was rapidly honking to show support was "Horny". Shortly after another looked @ me in disgust when I said I was sporting an "A" cup. It must suck going through life without the ability to see humor. Remind me to bring more friends next time.

Along the way in every city and town we passed were people along the route cheering us on, handing out gifts, holding signs, spraying water. I began to realize how many lives cancer touched. There was many children with their Father thanking us in honor of their Mother who didn't make it. There was a group of men in the walk supporting their friend who lost his 32 year old wife. I was no longer doing this walk for A friend I was doing it for a cause..........shit. I didn't sign up to rally for a cause. I was now doing it for My Aunt who is fighting cancer, another Aunt I lost to cancer, a New Friend I found along the way who lost her Sister. At the end of day two in the last mile I was in excrushiating pain while walking up hill. I was passed by a 60 year old woman holding two canes with a ice pack taped to her knee wearing a shirt that said "Survivor". Funny how life will subtly slap you in the face. Your mind will lie to you. It will tell you you can't do something when you really can. After you push through the pain you can and after you do it it feels good. This is when I came to the conclusion that work was a distraction in life. That I and so many people were spending so much of our lives focused on something that shouldn't be our focus. That instead of giving someone a gift you can wrap we should give our time, our heart & our focus on them. Although a gift card is so quick and easy..................

I guess all that I am really trying to say is that once in while stop your life and go in a different direction. You may find that you were on the right path or you may just discover that you were missing something you never knew you had. Oh, and STRETCH!

Mother _______

2009-01-18T19:48:00.000-08:00

Monday, September 10, 2007

Mother ______
Current mood: annoyed
Category: Life

So, let me first say thanks for taking your time to read this. Second, let me say this is a true story without the Identity of others changed to protect their pathetic asses.

It all starts when during a frantic errand, I had to stop by the UPS store to ship back a pair of shoes that didn't fit. (Shopping online may or may not be addressed @ a later date, what was I thinking.) I enter the store and find myself number three in line. My package has a pre-paid label attached and is ready to just be dropped off but alas I need a GD receipt. As I am standing in line a lady enters, and I use this term LOOSELY. With her are three children, a four year old, five year old & an infant in a stroller. As we wait for the little deaf man in front of me to recap his tour in the Korean war where he met his beautiful wife Melan, I look over to see the two elder children spinning around the stroller while playing tug-a-war with the handles. This leaves the stroller @ a 45' angle and the infant folded like a Taco around the wafer thin belt that is barely keeping baby from kissing carpet @ a rate of speed. Meanwhile I am listening to the"MOTHER" chat on her phone about latest Wal-Mart purchase, when I hear her say "What are you staring at"? I close my jaw and turn my head back to the counter. Mr, Smith is still chattin away while his packages are being wrapped and processed. A few minutes later I look over to see the Heathens taking labels from the supply display and running around sticking them on the store windows, carpet, baby brother's head. Mom catches me staring again and say "Seriously, Stop $%^$%^ staring".

Now, I am not one to tell someone else how they should do something unless asked, or have I ever found myself not avoiding a conflict at any cost. But I shit you not, like I was having an out of body experience. Here is what came out of my mouth:

"Put down the Effin phone and be a God Damned mother" to which she says " Excuse me"? And next flies out "Your white trash ass will have plenty of time to talk to your girlfriend about Days of our lives when you get back to the trailer park with your bag of Wal-Mart groceries and fortified twist top wine that you no doubt purchased with a welfare check.

She grabbed the kids quicker than a cat can lick it's ass and left. I turn back to the counter where the clerk is doubled over in laughter and Mr. Smith shuffling past with a vacant look on his face. I then said to the clerk "I don't know why she left, do you think it was something I said"? She managed to squeak out a thank you as I handed her my package.

I now feel awful about insulting this poor woman who clearly just needed Calgon to take her away. But I was raised in a much different way. If that was me acting like that in public my Mother would have shot me the glance that assured me that I was indeed going to get my hide tanned just as soon we got home. I would have snapped to attention just for the mere hope that if I behaved from that point on the beating might not be as bad. In reality if she would have just given her kids the same attention that she was giving her phone she might have avoided the embarrasssssssment.

Currently listening:
Hair of the Dog
By Nazareth
Release date: 25 October, 1990