Sunday, August 28, 2011

Guess What? Your Kid Can't Draw

For those who don't know, or honestly don't care, I fix PC's in a large office building. I pretty much walk around and plug the PC back in because some lazy clam kicked the cord with her fat cankled horse hoof and disconnected it. And they look at you like you're some sort of magician when you plug it back in.

"I swear I looked and it was plugged in."

One time I was on the phone with said wilder beast and she claimed the PC "Just shut off on it's own." Or, now stick with me here. Maybe it was the 20 pairs of shoes you had under the desk just couldn't stand the stink of your crows toes and tried to run away and tripped over the cord.

"Is the PC plugged in?"

"Of course it's plugged in!!!! I checked that, how stupid do you think I am?"

Sigh.... "OK, I'll come down and take a look."

So I walk to her desk and I was right. There was a pair of boots laying there tangled in the power cord looking like a rabbit caught in a trap. I untangle the sweaty boot from the cord and plug it back into the wall from which it had become unplugged. And then you wouldn't believe what happened? Holy shit, the PC turned on!!!!

I crawl out from under the desk and look at Roseanne Barr's twin and just smiled from ear to ear.........

"Very." and I walked back to my desk.

In my daily travels throughout my office building, I get a glimpse at how people must live in their homes. Their desks are an extension of their homes and I expect to see most of them on A&E's Hoarders soon. It amazes me the amount of soda bottles, and candy wrappers, and crumbs, and stacks over stacks of paper that haven't been moved in 10 years.

But that's not the worst of it. Don't get me started on the pictures of their kids. People act like you should constantly give a rat's ass about what new piece of shit artifact Johnny brought home from school that you tacked to your wall. No one cares about your stupid kids. And no, little Tiffany is not the next Rembrandt. For Fuck's sake, her drawing looks like a Smurf threw up a bowl of Fruit Loops all over a piece of orange construction paper.

"Isn't it beautiful? She has such talent for a child her age."

No she doesn't. She's fucking 3!! The only talent she has is picking her ass and wiping it on the wall. Oh wait, that's the other picture you have pinned to your monitor.

I wonder if Home Depot is hiring.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Happy Birthday Howie!!!!

Once again, I take us back to a time and a place that holds such endearing memories in my heart. A time when I was coming into my own as a man. A place where I was loved, adored, respected, and sometimes asked to perform miracles that even the world's foremost hide and seek champion, Jesus Christ, could never perform:

The Paint Department at Home Depot.

I worked with a man named Howie. In fact, he was also a math teacher at my high school and worked at Home Depot 35 hours a week on top of that. So, he was sometimes quite cranky and short with people without even noticing it. That made it fun to fuck with him.

One day we were both behind the paint counter mixing for customers when I asked who was next. And I saw her. One of our repeat customers. And she was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. You know the type. She had that wide eyed look that if you stared long enough, you could swear you'd see birds behind those eyes chirping in her ear. She was way too friendly and way too talkative for my taste. She just never shut up long enough to answer any of her questions before she asked another one. And she liked to talk about birds. I know, right? I still think she really did have birds in her brain and they were controlling her brain just to fuck with the rest of us.

After about 10 minutes I couldn't take it anymore. She asked me another stupid question about which type of brush she should use. I smiled wickedly and said "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know enough about the product. But you know what? Howie does. He should be able to help you better than I can." Howie spun around and looked as if he was about to strangle me with his bare hands. I just smiled and bent down behind the counter to pull out some paint that was mixing and I was laughing my ass off. I could hear her with that shrill, Edith Bunker voice babble on and on about nothing and everything. And Howie had to take it up the ass like a skinny prison bitch.

He looks down at me and mouths "I fucking hate you." and I just giggled "Happy Birthday Howie." And no, it wasn't his birthday. I then hear "Oh, Howie!!!!! Its your birthday???? Happy Birthday!! How old are you? What are you doing for your birthday? Blah,blah, blah,blah........" This went on for over 30 minutes. She just would not stop talking to Howie and he couldn't escape her.

Howie never stood next to me behind that paint counter ever again.......

Wanna See Something Swell?

Who would have thought that this completely hysterical, sarcastically comical pick up line would end up getting me verbally berated like a whore in confession?

As some of you know, I have partaken in the human Petri dish known as Internet dating. Oh, what a grand time to be had by all!!! I have had my fair share of awkward dates over the years. Your basic crazy chick, your "they look 10 years older and 50 lbs. heavier than their pictures" dates, and so on.

But one in particular had me scratching my head wondering how the hell she had two sons, because there is NO way anyone fucked her twice.

I tend to have a very sarcastic and perverted sense of humor. Who knew? And it takes a certain kind of woman to be able to handle that, and thus be able and willing to sit through dinner with me without cringing or gagging. Sometimes both. This girl was not interested in playing along.

I met this woman for our first date, and things went rather smoothly. Except that I held back a little. I kept the sexual jokes and witty comments to a strict minimum. That should have been my first clue. But, since the date went so well we decided to see each other again.

One night we were hanging out at her place as she wrapped Christmas presents for her kids who were not home that night. We talked and laughed and joked and it was good.


She somehow made a joking reference to me performing a certain act on a certain gender of the human population that shall remain nameless. I just said, laughingly "Hey, don't judge. I was young and needed the money." and she laughed. Alright, now we're getting somewhere!! Maybe I can ease into this and let her see the real me. I was better off stabbing her in the eye with a pen to ensure she never saw anything on her right side ever again.

"I didn't like it though. The whole experience left a bad taste in my mouth." Ha, Ha!! That was funny, right guys????


"Hey!!!! You have a lady here!!! Save that kind of talk for your buddies at the bar!!"

I actually felt like I was 5 years old and getting scolded for wiping my buggers on the wall behind my bed. I hung my head, and said I was sorry and we kept on talking. I saw her one more time and things were going well again.


We were texting back and forth and joking and I decided to try again. "Hey, you wanna see something swell? LOL". Only, she didn't "LOL" back.

"Hey, ALWAYS remember the lady you have on the other end of this line, GOT IT??"

I suddenly had the urge to put a Dunce cap on and sit in the corner

Needless to say, I apologized and told her that this was not going to work out at all.

It's a good thing I didn't tell her the one asking if she wanted to play Carnival Game? It's where she would sit on my face and I guess how much she weighs.

She probably would have caned me for that one.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

I Want to Beat the Bag Out of Sir Isaac Newton

For those of you wondering why, it has been said that Sir Isaac Newton invented the first color wheel. And it is because of said invention that I wish to go back in time and jam a hot, pointed piece of rebar into his retina and see what kinds of colors come spewing forth.

I worked at Home Depot for over 7 years. 3 of those were spent in the Paint Department. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're guessing that I pulled a lot of ass while mixing paint for the hot college student picking up a can of paint for her new dorm room. Or the lonely, recently divorced MILF who is painting the bedroom a new shade of black to hide the blood stains left over from when she caught her bastard husband banging the aforementioned college chick, and is just looking for a revenge lay. Sadly, the only types I seemed to have run into were the uninterested, solemn, bored housewives who saw the latest episode of Martha Stewart and wanted to paint the room with a crackle finish just because it looked easy. But even still, I did look damn sexy in my orange apron splattered with a multitude of colors from all the paint samples I mixed. I looked HOT!!!

But one day sticks out more than the others. As part of the services we offered, we would color match various items brought into the store. A paint chip, a piece of siding, a shirt, etc. But nothing gave me more heartburn than the angry, bitter, shrill of a woman who wanted her dark green shutter matched.

I looked up at her as she approached the paint counter and put on my best customer service face and smiled warmly as I greeted her.

"Good afternoon, Miss. How may I help you?"

"I would like a can of paint matched to this shutter, please."

"Of course, it would be my pleasure."

I should have run away, tearing all my clothes off and screaming like an escaped mental patient instead.

I put the shutter up to the color match machine and out spat the formula. I mix it, test a sample on a piece of wood and it looked spectacular!!! DaVinci himself couldn't have done a finer job. Too bad it wasn't DaVinci who I was helping.

"Um, that doesn't look like my shutter."

"WHAT????!!!!!!" I proclaim.

"Prey tell, what is it that you gazing upon, because it most certainly is not this magnificent can of color that I have labored over for you, my sweet, sweet, love."

"It's too blue. Can't you make it more green?"

"Miss, if I may be so bold. This is the absolute best that you will get. The color match system is not perfect, nor is it intended to be. But I assure you, looking at this stick side by side with your shutter, this is an exceptional match. No one will be able to tell the difference."

"But I can tell the difference."

Fuck me.....

So for the next half hour I add some yellow to take out the blue. "No, now it's too yellow."

I add some blue to take out the yellow. "It's too light, now."

I add some green and some black. "Now it's too dark." I think you get the point.

I went through 3 cans of paint and 2 quarts of tint when all was said and done. And each time, it wasn't good enough. I even had other customers come over to judge and they all said the first mix was the best. It didn't matter. Mr. McGoo's long lost inbred sister, Irene was having none of it. I didn't know what to do. Then the light bulb went off.

"Miss, could I speak with you privately for a moment?" She walked over to the back of the counter, an unsure look on her face.

"See, this is awfully embarrassing and I guess I should have brought this up earlier. I am trying the best I can. I love my job and really would hate to lose it over this. Sigh, I'm color blind. My manager doesn't know. If he did, he would fire me. Please don't tell. I will do the best I can to get you the color you need, but please don't say anything. I don't want to have to collect bottles out of trash cans and eat dog food in order to survive if I lost this job."

She must have been a mother, because what I saw in her eyes melted my heart and only a mother can have that look. Such compassion. Such concern. Such yearning to take me in and nurture away my pain. Such a fucking sap.....

"Oh, my. I'm so sorry!!! I had no idea. You know what? Um, this first can is fine. In fact, it's perfect. I'll take it." and she hurriedly grabbed her can and headed for the register.

And to this day, I cannot look at Hunter Green without a slight tear rolling down my cheek.....