Road Trip Day 1/2

Hey y’all. I’m sitting in Brooklyn amidst boxes and the chaos of moving over twenty years of history. Mom is moving to North Carolina, close to my younger brother and his family.
I’ve been down here since Saturday night, helping to pack my Mom’s life up into neat (and not so neat) boxes. Lend emotional support. And attempt to not be such a pain in the ass.
Doing good with all three, so far.
Tomorrow, the movers will come and pack all of this stuff into a truck, and then put it in another truck. Some of it will go in the car (my Mom’s Mac and other important documents), and when the truck leaves, we’ll get in and start driving to North Carolina. I’ll tweet and check in on foursquare when I can, and let the Fucking Internets see how we’re doing. So watch those spaces for info.
See ya later.
AngryBob

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A Steampunk Tale of the Gay 90’s

This entry is part 13 of 13 in the series Micro-Fiction

But for a nervous twitch, the Inventor sat quietly as the Gentleman slowly browsed the showroom floor, casually looking over each of the brass and steel Automech.  Occasionaly, he would stop and study one a little closer, rocking back and forth heel to toe as he puffed his large–and especially offensive–cigar.

“This one,” he said as he peered close into the glass eyes of the six foot, man-shaped figure.  “Tell me what it’s good for.”

“Ah!  That’s Champ.  Champ can do small chores around the house.  He can bring the paper in. He’ll announce visitors when you’re home, and frighten away burglars when you’re not. He’s good with children, other Automech and household pets. He’ll even feed himself coal when his boiler is cooling down.”

“That’s all?” the Gentleman said. “Says here on the card that he’s good for the wife.”

“Well,” the Inventor said with a slight blush. “He has an attachment, for the hysterical wife.”

“The hysterical wife? What sort of attachment…”

The inventor removed the attachment from the case and snapped it into place. The Gentleman’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh. I see. But what’s that larger attachment? Surely not…”

“Heavens no!” the Inventor said. “That attachment snaps into place at the wrist, for steaming dishes clean and removing wall paper.”

“Dishes and wallpaper, eh? Well, I’ll tell you what, sir. Remove fifty dollars from this price and I’ll take him!”

Two days later, the Inventor was reading the daily paper when he noticed the story about a gentleman who had somehow managed to be killed in some strange home misadventure. Apparently, he had somehow boiled his bowel and intestine from the inside out.

“Back to the drawing board,” the Inventor said.

Yes. I’m clever. And disturbed. Disturbed and clever. The Gay 90’s! Get it? And also: the thing on the Hysterical women? Sadly, the concept was believed true then… look it up. Easy to imagine a steampunk view of that. Just be careful which attachment you use.

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Five Gallons of Love

This entry is part 12 of 13 in the series Micro-Fiction

Driving in circles, around the block again and again. He knows he should stop. In front of her house, get out of the car and tell her exactly how he feels about her before it’s too late.

If she’s even been looking casually out the window, she must have seen his car more than twice in his forty or fifty trips around her block. What must she think of that? Will she think he’s just pathetic? Becoming a stalker in the aftermath of their romance? Or will she be thinking how sweet it is that he’s circling the block, trying to get the right words to convey what he feels about her?

He knows that he can’t continue to circle her block. Eventually, he’ll run out of gas, or his tires will begin to wear out from the right turns. Well over a hundred of them by now. Sooner or later, even if she doesn’t notice, someone else might and then call the police. With his luck, he’ll be pulled over right in front of her house and he’ll have to try and pretend he doesn’t know her while she stands on her front porch to watch the commotion. Hopefully, she’d pretend the same, to avoid embarrassment for both of them.

He can’t keep this up.

He pulls over in front of her house. Before he is fully out of his car, she is on the front porch. She had noticed. And now she was looking at him with nervous anticipation, biting her lower lip hopefully as he comes up the front walk.

“Nancy,” he says as he stops at the foot of her porch steps.

“Yes?” she says, holding her hands in front of her like a little kid in church.

“Fuck you.”

As he walks back to his car, he hears her door close with finality. He feels pounds lighter.

He drives away and does not circle her block.

His only regret is that he didn’t gas up. He walks past her house towards the closest gas station with his gas can in hand.

If she notices, she doesn’t say anything.

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Work Like An Asshole for An Asshole.

Anyone who reads my tweets on a regular basis can tell you that I’m fairly not happy with my job. Well, that’s not entirely true–I like the people I work with within a twenty-foot radius from my desk quite a bit, and a few outside that circle as well. It’s some of the upper-management bastards I can’t quite seem to get along with. This is because they’re bastards.

When one or more of these bastards decided to try and railroad a pretty hard worker (granted, he’s a hot-head), I decided to stand up and make my opinions known. My reasons for this were not purely selfless or altruistic. Because while I’d rather speak up against what I felt was a bullshit rap, it also gives me some amount of pleasure to piss the Man off and generally be a pain in the ass.

Perhaps I did go about things the wrong way.

The service tech in question was told with less than 24 hours notice on a Friday, that if he did not work that weekend due to last minute mandatory overtime, that he would not have a job on Monday. Of course, being a hot-head, he did nothing to help his case, said case being trying to find last minute child-care for his almost three-year-old son.

Other service men were given slightly more notice, and a couple were given winks and nods when they reported difficulty with working mandatory overtime.

Let me add, that this particular service tech consistently works on his days off, rarely calls out and is almost never late. However, the Powers That Be seem to have it in for him ever since he allegedly shot his mouth off at a bar AFTER the company Christmas party.

It appeared to me that he was being railroaded.

On Saturday, there was no sign of him in the morning. The shop steward was told to call him and reiterate that if he did not show up on Saturday, that he would be fired.

I went to the Service Manager’s office and stated that I thought this was all bullshit. Especially given to his excellent work habits and ethics, despite what he said drunkenly after a Christmas party and off the job.

I was told by the manager that it was “out of his hands”.

Later that day, I tried to call the tech in question, but then hung the phone up. His shop-steward had called him already, and despite my dislike of the bullshit that was going on, I could do no more to help save him.

He called later that day. From his truck. Having found childcare, he was ready to work to save his job.

We had no work for him at that time (the mandatory overtime, while understandable with the temperatures we had the night before, was needless), and told him to remain available if if we needed him. He agreed to this, and we felt better about the situation.

Monday, when the man came in, he was told by the Service Manager that he “shouldn’t be here”. The tech assumed, quite rightly, that he was fired. I got up and went to the Service Manager’s office and informed him (in tones not at all polite and in a manner not suitable for addressing a man in his position over me). That his call was bullshit because the technician had called in. It went along these lines:

“It’s bullshit, firing this guy.”

“It’s out of my hands,” said he.

“Even after he made himself available, you fired him.”

“Der wha? Who said fired? nobody said fired!”

So fired changed to suspension without pay while the matter was investigated.

Investigated included checking phone logs to see if he was called by us. Which he was, by me for a split second before I decided to let him do on his own what he would wind up doing. Investigating also meant calling me into the office and grilling me on my actions that day.

I told them that he called in on the radio (his van shows up on the GPS), and I admitted that I called him and then hung up. If their phone records show that the call lasted five seconds, that would be a long time. The issue then became the fact that I didn’t call the Service Manager when the tech called in.

I didn’t. I didn’t call him for two reasons. The first being that despite the fact that yes, I knew he would want to be called, I didn’t call him when anyone else called in either. The second reason, and the most important to me, is that I didn’t want to give him time to regroup and come up with other stipulations for employment. Like coming in and sitting in the office for eight hours “just in case”.

The Service Manager then informed our HR guy that he didn’t like my attitude and disrespect.

I was asked by the HR guy to treat the Service Manager with the respect deserved by someone of his position. I was also asked to apologize for the lack of it I had showed leading up to this event.

After about forty seconds, I apologized for the fact that I was talking to this guy the way an asshole talks to another asshole, and told him I would speak to him with the respect he believes he deserves.

Being an asshole, this means that I will now refer to him by “Mr. ‘last-name’”, or sir. As formal as I can make it. I will also inform him when he attempts to banter with me that “I prefer not to banter with you sir, if this is not a work related inquiry, I will have to ask you to refrain. Please. Sir. Mr. Pruiksma.

Shit. I said his last name.

In the meantime, I am looking for a new job. I hope to be out of there shortly. Before it kills me.

But, I make a prediction. And I will share with you here when it pans out, or let you know if it fizzled before I left.

The Service Manager is a petty, power-mad, micro-managing bastard. I will be written up, for the first time I may add, or verbally warned about some imagined (or possibly real but disproportionate) offense. I will be asked to sign the paper if written. If I do, I will make my comments and sign it. I will add a smiley face. Because I will know that I am not long for that world, that I stood my ground on what mattered to me, and that Pruiksma is a petty asshole who uses his workplace power to imagine himself as powerful mover and shaker.

What an asshole.

Sorry to bore you with this shit.

See ya later,

angrybob

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Fucking Slacker!

Holy shit. It’s been how long since I really laid a post on this blog? I don’t fucking know. It may have been summer. It may have been spring.

My excuses would be lame and pitiful so I will NOT bother.

I have a blog category named 147. I have no idea what this is. I’m afraid to find out.

Anyway. I’m done avoiding you, ill-literates.

Welcome back in 2010.

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Two minutes to midnight. 2010-01-06 Tweets.

  • Personal issues take center stage in your life now and dealing… More for Cancer http://twittascope.com/twittascope/?sign=4 #
  • Good morning, Fucking Internets. I took Ted down and put him out last night. He was a good tree. We honor him. #
  • I slit the sheet the sheet I slit and on this slitted sheet I sit. Heh. This fucking amuses me for a few seconds. Long enough. #
  • Our atomic structure means we're mostly empty space. From the eyes up, some fucking more than others. #
  • Fell asleep on the couch last night, and aside from some neck pain, am remarkably refreshed. Must have been pretty fucking tired. #
  • Tiny hidden camera in the corner of the dispatch office. We're still figuring whether legit or a gag. http://tweetphoto.com/8129085 #
  • I really don't mind my job, ultimately. It's the bullshit and some of the upper management grab-ass voo-doo that goes on here. #
  • There are some interesting college choices in the Winston-Salem area. Shit, there's an associates deg. program in Nanotechnology! #
  • Maybe I'll take a better look around when I help Mom move down there in Feb. #
  • I calculate I have missed approximately 1,984 "Rhumba Times" since I was last here. God that makes me sad. Hell… ♫ http://blip.fm/~isyoa #
  • The Supersuckers – Pretty Fucked Up This may be one of my favoritest songs like, ever. Listen. Listen! ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~isyvf #
  • This is taking me back. Like, twice. ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~isz9b #
  • Speaking of "2wice", Mission of Burma – 2wice. "You hide, I'll fuck you up!" ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~iszez #
  • Spooky rock for the children. Well, maybe not the children. Well, I guess it depends on your children. Dea… ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~iszqk #
  • This just in. Gary Coleman, long time nemesis of mine, is in the hospital. Get well, Gary! It won't be as … ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~iszyc #
  • Heh. Marvin is depressingly awesome. I wonder if we can pay Alan Rickman to cover all of the Marvin songs? ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~it0du #
  • It is. It really fucking is. Don't be a bad girl. ♫ http://beta.blip.fm/~it0ps #
  • Dinner is almost ready, and no sign of the people I'm supposed to be feeding. #
  • I will repost all my Gary Coleman cartoons. Gary and I are old nemesises. Nemeses? Nemesi? It was definitely an N word. @sleepjunky request. #
  • Fucking Internets blog post: If I were The Doctor, Gary Coleman would be… http://bit.ly/8YWhlS #GaryColeman #
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Two minutes to midnight. 2010-01-05 Tweets.

  • Goodnight, Fucking Internets. I'm done. Gonna sleep now. #
  • Your workmate or friend could make promises today that are wel… More for Cancer http://twittascope.com/twittascope/?sign=4 #
  • This is morning, Fucking Internets. You have been warned. Unless for you, it's after noon. In which case, you're fucked. #
  • Feeling slightly shitty today in me guts. However, me headmeats seem to be humming along just fine. I'm gonna roll with it. #
  • Grrrrr. Eat. That's what Tony the Tiger was saying. Those poor kids. #
  • I think I'mma take the long way to work. To reflect, meditate and think about what I'm going to fuck with today. #
  • Awlrighty. I'm going to finish getting dressed and get the fuck outta here. #
  • Dog's second trip out this morning. I think she knew I was leaving and decided to fuck with me. #
  • By the time I get to the office, I have a renewed sense of purpose. Then I come in and realize it's all bullshit. Then I drink coffee. #
  • Yawn. This fucking planet bores me. #
  • That's planet KOSCO, btw. Not planet Earth. I fucking love planet Earth. Not that I wouldn't leave it given the right opportunity, though. #
  • I mean, I know where my towel is and everything. #
  • Is asking for a touchscreen Blackberry with a slide out qwerty keyboard that dual-boots Android asking for too fucking much? #
  • Anything that happens, happens. #
  • If I'm this tired this early, how the fuck do I expect to get anything done later? Need! More! Coffee! #
  • Try to understand. Try to understand. Try try try to understand, I'm the magic man. By magic, I mean something else. #
  • Ten minutes and then I'll eat my grapefruit and my yogurt. And when the boss comes by and teases me, I'll choke the shit out of him. #
  • Yep. #
  • How to fill my day? Don't wanna leave early. Don't want to hide under the desk and sleep… Well, yeah, but not a good idea. #
  • Like an asshole, I re-upgraded my cable. So now I'm watching Dexter. #
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