Why so serious?

The other day at work I got my 90 day performance review for me to sign, showing that I received and read it through. It pretty much said what I knew it was going to say. Hard worker, very punctual, great guy but you really have to work on getting him to even talk to you. Y'know, stuff like that. One thing about this review caught my eye however.

It was my job title.

Now that's obvious. I wash dishes so that makes me a dishwasher, right? No. It makes me a Hydro-Ceramic Technician!

You have no idea how hilarious it was to see something so PC as to make dishwashing sound like a college program. Right after Mike handed the review to me I noticed it and busted out laughing. Turning around with a somewhat concerned look on his face he asked what was wrong.

"My job title. Hydro-ceramic technician? That's freaking awesome!"

Whatever concern Mike had was immediately replaced with a smile of his own. "You like that do ya?"

"Yeah I like it. Now when I don't talk to a hot chick I'll never meet in a bar I'll never go to, I can really impress her with my job title. And hell, eight years of graduate school and I'll be a hydro-ceramic technologist!"

So yeah, my newly found title made me really happy. Then yesterday came around with another performance review. I knew I had signed the other one but then I didn't turn it in. Maybe it got lost somewhere. No. It can never be that simple.

Turns out my real job title is Dish Room Attendant. Lame. Apparently Mike was being Mike and came up with hydro-ceramic technician and slapped that on my review (with much appreciation from me). What happened is there was a staff meeting and my review was brought up. They told Mike that he wasn't allowed to make such a unilateral change in job title and it'd have to be redone with the correct designation. Needless to say, neither of us was happy.

This whole thing smacked of something I would do. Taking something inherently boring and giving it a tweak to make it fun.

When I worked at Hastings we had what are called defective tags. If somebody returned an item that was damaged or missing a piece it would get a defective tag with basic details about why it's defective. Details like date returned/found, store number and a short description of the defect. We would also stick a defective tag on what remained stolen merchandise, i.e. the packaging.

So, when an item is slapped with a defective tag for whatever reason, it's put into a basket at the front counter and at the end of the day the basket is brought to the back room. Then it's the back room's job to sort out the defective items and get them sent back to the supplier or wherever for some reason I never really knew. I just worked there, I didn't know how everything worked.

Now you can imagine how monotonous it would get filling out defective tags for the myriad of CD and DVD cases, porno mag wrappers and whatever is left over after somebody steals a wallet, belt or other novelty items you find everyday. Eventually (and naturally) I got a little creative when it came to filling them out.

Simpsons S.4 missing disc 3? 'Man that sucks. There were some really awesome episodes on that disc and now it's gone!'
A defective DVD player? 'Well there's your problem. This brand sucks.'
A stolen Pink Floyd CD? 'I swear, Syd Barret must be rolling in his grave. You know who he is right? Right?'
A stolen wallet? 'Well, maybe they stole it because they didn't have a place to keep their money. You just watch, they'll come back and pay for it now.'
A stolen DVD? 'Stolen... what? I can't just put the reason, I have to be witty about it too? Go away, I'm tired.'
A stolen video game? 'Sucks to be him, he forgot the manual.'

Doing stuff like that made me smile and the people in the back room were happy to have something funny to read. Sometimes when they'd come up front to sign out for the day, we'd talk about my funnier tags and have a laugh.

It was fun while it lasted. Yeah, 'All good things...' y'know? Somebody from corporate was making their rounds through the stores and just happened to see one of my (decidedly humorous, and completely innocuous) defective tags. Hahaha, they were pissed. This was official Hastings business and to treat it with such disregard was unacceptable on so many levels. The guy wanted me fired immediately.

Now I knew that I was a valued employee. For example, I was the only one who didn't follow the dress code. When new employees would be trained, they'd be told not to wear what I was wearing: a t-shirt and pants. It even got to the point were other employees would complain and say "Well Kelly doesn't follow the dress code, so why do I have to?" I get it from my Grandpa. He's the reason ties aren't required at Boeing :)

Anyway... The manager and assistant manager flat out told him that they wouldn't fire me, but they would make sure it didn't happen again. I still remember the day I found out. Amanda, the assistant manager, came right up to me with a piece of paper I recognized as a 'you're in trouble' paper and asked...

"Defective tags?"
"Oh come on, they're so boring otherwise."
"You can't write stuff like that Kelly. Corporate saw it and wanted you fired immediately."
"Oh... can I go home then?"
"You're not fired. You're only written up and you can't be funny with defective tags anymore."
"Okay. That's fine too I guess."

After that I did what I could to avoid having to fill out a defective tag. It wasn't to avoid the temptation to write something silly, but if I absolutely couldn't be silly I didn't want to waste my time.

Sigh... I really do miss the good times at Hastings. Plenty of blogging material there :)

Kelly's MySpace Blog Grab Bag Vol. III

Date Posted: Monday, April 21, 2008

Title: Kind of an obsession really...

Body:
Ever since the idea of time travel was brought to the forefront of my imagination thanks to Back to the Future, I've always been fascinated by it. Thinking of how it works, why it won't, the advantages, disadvantages until it branches out into how exactly time works. I'm usually at my speculative best when it's around 2AM and I'm half asleep.

Me and an old friend of mine would have conversations involving time travel, paradoxes caused by time travel, alternate realities caused by time travel and all kinds of weird stuff. Once we even got onto the subject of speed and acceleration and how people wouldn't be able to travel at the speed of light; that the acceleration alone would likely tear them apart. In a moment of genius I said "Well then take out the acceleration bit and there you go."

Forgive me though, for I've gone off topic. See what I'm talking about though? It's an obsession Anyway, I've always fantasized about reverting to a much younger age but retaining everything. Y'know, be who I am now but stuck in a 5 year old's body back in 1987. I would breeze through school and do all sorts of things differently. One thing in particular...

I was in the second grade when I performed in front of the whole school for the end of year talent show. I had a flimsy cardboard guitar I made for my music class project and I sang a song that I wrote. I was so nervous and horrified when I was playing that I couldn't hear anything but my feeble attempts to sing. Now that I know how to play the guitar and I've got a bunch of kick ass songs memorized, including my own, I would love to do that whole thing over. I'm told that everybody really enjoyed my 'performance' in the first place but I don't remember anything remotely like enjoyment from the crowd.

I'd get my parents to rent me an electric guitar and amplifier and I'd blow the lid off the joint! Hell yeah! The only hard part would be choosing which song to play. It'd probably be a Green Day song but I might bust out some Metallica or Led Zeppelin. Just imagine how badass that would be (for me) if that happened. Some random six year old rocking out in an elementary school gym, in front of the entire school, and kicking ass playing Master of Puppets, Basketcase or Stairway to Heaven. I know it'd impress Jordan Niles

Commentary: This is another recent blog entry. Again I was going to post a much older one but this caught my eye. You'll remember that my Mom posted a blog about me (that's a link. CLICK THE LINK!) and it touched on my first foray into music entertainment. You have no idea how long I've wished I could go back and do what I talked about up there.

I've had dreams where I was suddenly my younger self. Every time I would get right to work making my family's and my own life better. The time that elapses in these dreams varies from hours to days and it always sucks to wake up and find that it really was a dream. They're just so realistic.

ALSO: I posted a blog the same day, but a few minutes after midnight. It's nothing much. Just an awesomely hilarious quote from a show called Squidbillies on [adult swim]:

One of these things...
Current mood: ha ha

"So let's see. War, famine, death and... grasshoppers. One of those seems out of place now doesn't it?"

Dizzamn! Pestilence just got pwned!

Temporarily

In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone

Alone

Audioslave - Like A Stone

Give it a listen. I'm sure you won't be disappointed :)

So damn literal

It's not the fact that if listened to long enough it all sounds the same, or that the subject matter is divided into songs about love and songs about stuff that isn't love, but the fact that the lyrics have all the subtlety of a traffic jam.

I'm talking about country music.

It's all just so damn literal! It can never allude to anything or be indirect. Honestly, it's like music for people that need it spelled out for them. You could take a really generic short story, toss in a steel guitar and some drunk with a southern twang in their voice and BAM: You've got the makings of a classic country album!

There has been one instance where I had come to accept and :shudder: enjoy country music.

I met Amanda online and she had an overnight paper route delivering The Wall Street Journal. She was really bored doing it by herself and I was lonely and unemployed so I started to help her with it. Now this wasn't some kiddy route. This route took about three to four hours every night by car. The only entertainment available was a rickety old boombox that only picked up one station.

Give yourself a cookie if you guessed what kind of station it picked up.

The first couple weeks were a bit nerve wracking. Having to listen to one of the few genres of music I consider tonal abomination for hours on end was bearable only because of how horribly lonely I was. Eventually though, I started to hear a few songs that I considered to be of a higher quality. Amanda knew her country music so I would just ask her what song was playing. About a month into it I had a very selective library of tolerable (enjoyable even) country songs I would consider listening to on purpose.

I think I went on that paper route with her for a couple months. Once I stopped going though, it didn't take long for me to fall back into my usual distaste of the genre. Well, for the most part. If I do my best to not pay attention to how insipid the lyrics are, I can find something to like about most country music.

By the way, I can totally say it all sounds the same. As punk rock is my favorite genre of music (as well as it's variants and similar genres (alternative, post-grunge)) and everybody knows that it all sounds the same no matter how long you listen to it. So I know what I'm talking about I guess :)

ps. Following is the joke I got the title from: I'd like to see a forklift lift a crate of forks. It'd be so damn literal. "Hey, you're using that machine to its exact purpose!"

Why yes, I am up to something. Thanks for noticing.

When I'm quiet, people tend to think something is up.

Or wrong.

Or I'm mad, sad, depressed or something other than my usual happy self... heh, 'happy self'... aaanyway.

Sometimes I'm quiet for no particular reason. It's nice to let everything else do the talking and just exist for a few hours.

Other times it's because I'm so deep in thought that not much else exists to me.

Whenever I get like that is when people think something is up. Most of the time I don't even know I'm doing it until somebody comments on it. Usually in the form of, "Hey Kelly, you okay?" This usually surprises me, at which point I quickly turn to the person and tell them I'm fine. But because I haven't spoken for hours, a strained "Yeah, I'm fine." comes out piquing the person's interest further.

Knowing that my assurance that I'm fine sounded more help me than s'all good I try to say it again, in a much more confident tone, but to no avail. They know something is up.

Now I appreciate the concern. I really do. But with me, something is always up. I'm just about always worried about something whether it's trivial or of real importance. When I try to talk about it I can't find the words and I forget big chunks of what I was thinking about.

So I just stay quiet.

I'm lucky that I'm not in high school anymore. That kind of behavior raises like, a bajillion red flags nowadays, haha.

So really, if I'm quiet, nothing's wrong. I'm just being quiet at the moment :)

Driving Blind

Apparently my car battery has been on it's last legs for a few months. My car took too long to start and half the time it wouldn't accelerate properly. Since I started my job I would also go out to my car and listen to the stereo for my breaks. I have also recently set my dome light to turn on when I open my door. I like doing all of that so the next part kinda sucked.

All of this combined pretty much drained the rest of my battery to the point where my car wouldn't start at all. I wouldn't be able to get a new one until I was paid next so my Dad charged it up a little so I could keep driving with it. Naturally everything would take a while to come back and eventually my stereo, lights and dash lights did.

Except for my tachometer, speedometer and fuel gauge. Not exactly things that should be missing when you're driving. Now I had to work pretty much every day for the next week so I'd just have to hope they came back soon. They didn't.

It didn't seem to matter though. And I found out something weird about myself. I'll start with why it didn't matter.

I've got the way my car works practically memorized. Depending on how I accelerate, my engine opens up into a higher gear and levels out when I hit 30, 35 and 40 MPH. So that takes care of my speed, negating my tachometer and speedometer. And if I really need to check it, there's usually a car in front of or behind me so I'd just match their pace for a few seconds to adjust.

The only thing that didn't change for me was stopping. I brake according to distance more than speed and since I already have a clear idea of how fast I'm going, nothing changed there. Besides, when I'm driving I don't just pay attention to the driver in front of me. I also look at what the drivers in front of them are doing. So because of this I usually have a better idea of what the person in front of me is likely to do.

So while it was fun using my driving skills in lieu of various meters, I got a new battery and everything works again. Now to the something weird about myself.

Talk to anybody close to me and they'll tell you that I don't drive so much as I attempt to commit vehicular homicide. What's funny is the people that would say that are just as bad as I am when it comes to driving. Anyway... what I noticed is when I got my dashboard back, is I felt that going five over was way too fast. I felt like I was out of control.

I decided to pretend like my dash wasn't working and started going as fast as I was when they weren't. After a few seconds of driving at what I felt to be the correct speed (and what I always drive at), I was going UNDER the speed limit! Definitely not something I would ever expect to find out about myself.

So while I was technically driving blind (in a way) I think I really did see it in a different way. I haven't changed though. Those of you who feel this is a wasted opportunity, try driving without looking at your gauges and see what that says about you.

He understands only too well...

Well I just got back from a late showing of The Dark Knight. To be blunt, I loved this movie. There is something I want to touch on about the movie though: The Joker is not insane. He is evil and chaos incarnate, but by no means is he insane.

He's got... a real bead on things. He knows how the world works and all he wants is for it to stop working. Yeah it's a dick move, but it's not insane. Hell, once the world broke he'd probably get bored after a few minutes and try to figure out how to break that one. Or fix it, depending on how you look at it.

Does anybody else who's seen the movie feel the same way?

I also feel kinda jipped. I stayed until after the credits and nothing happened. With a movie this big you'd think they would include some awesome tidbit about the next movie.

Kelly's MySpace Blog Grab Bag Vol. II

Warning: There is salty language in the post below. You've been warned... Seriously. Some real sailor mouthed talk down there. I haven't edited for bad words.

Date Posted: Saturday, February 10, 2007

Title: Lest I never fall asleep again...

Body:
I have to post this.

At work we have a suggestive sell going on. What that means is we ask the person in line if they'd like to buy a certain something. If we don't ask, they get that certain something for free. This time around it's a king size twix. Oh, I'm sorry, King Size Twix. Unless you want some slack-jawed wood ape or snippity soccer mom feeling they've gotten the better of you and the store, you ask everyone that comes through your line if they would like to buy a King Size Twix. Or just a twix, it doesn't matter.

I know, it sounds easier than standing on the sidewalk holding a sign proclaiming there are oil changes at half off in the building right behind you: and believe me it is. But just like standing on the sidewalk, you will forget what exactly it is you're doing for about two seconds every 45 minutes. In those two seconds the same people I spoke of earlier will stop you, with a smile etched onto their faces, and ask to get their free King Size Twix (or twix) because you completely forgot to even fucking mention it!

Now back to before you eventually screw up and let that little chocolate bastard run off with the customer who actually paid attention to more than how much change they were due.

At first you're a little miffed that you'll have to ask every customer if they want a twix (king size, KING SIZE, WHATEVER!), but then you get to asking and it's not that big a deal. Half an hour to an hour later you could probably go for a twix yourself. Five hours later you want very much to methodically, and with extreme prejudice, burn down every last twix factory known to man. Even the one they have on the moon as back-up. Especially the one on the moon. What in the hell is a twix factory doing on the moon?

A twix factory is on the moon because you have to wake up a little over six hours from now (at 8AM because right now it's 1:50AM) and work a long but satisfying shift alphabetizing music dvd's and strategy guides that will only be messed up again when all the little bastards that don't know about gamefaqs.com read them on the floor and leave them there, and because you had to get out of bed to write all this. Which really throws you off when you see it took over 20 minutes to write (it's 1:53AM).

ps. it's now 1:54AM...PST

Commentary: A few days ago my Mom posted a blog about how annoying it was to be asked if you wanted hot sauce or fries (I'd already decided to post this post before I read that post so it's mere coincidence that the subject matter is similar). While I have never worked at a fast food place (do Round Table Pizza and Quizno's have a drive thru? no.), I have had to 'upsell' and believe me: we hate doing it even more than you hate hearing us ask.

When I posted this I was really pissed off at having to do the whole suggestive sell thing. You have absolutely no idea how infuriatingly aneurysm inducing it is to do something like that for hours on end and when suddenly you miss a beat, an asshole is right there to shove it in your face like they're so much better and smarter than you because they've gotten free candy as a result of your mistake.

Albert Einstein defined insanity thus: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

I humbly offer my own definition of insanity as a parallel: Doing the same thing over and over again so often that you don't realize when you haven't done it.

Also, the twix factory on the moon was a mixture of being angry, tired and trying to be funny.

Kelly's MySpace Blog Grab Bag Vol. I

Date Posted: Thursday, February 14, 2008

Title: I wonder if they’d be allowed in apartments...

Body:
There's a special coming up on Discovery Channel called Dinosaurs: Return to Life?

Now I'm almost positive that if we were close to bringing dinosaurs back to life, we'd already be seeing that news just about everywhere. The fact that this special is the only link to such a scientific leap, I'm gonna say no. They won't return to life.

Imagine if they were successful though. Hell forget successful, what if they freaking nailed it? What if they went beyond just bringing dinosaurs back to life and started doing weird experiments? What if they shrunk one down to the size of a cat? You following me?

"Honey?"
"Yes dear?"
"Where's the cat?"
"He was playing with Rex wasn't he? ...oh sonuvabitch!"

Now who the hell wouldn't want a miniature T-Rex as a pet? Of course that's where Mart-A-Saurus comes in. They could de-claw your dinosaur and do something with the teeth. Remember that most carnivorous dinosaurs didn't use their teeth to chew, only to tear. So hey, all they'd need is some wet food.

You probably wouldn't need to worry about the herbivores when it came to teeth. Jeez, how awesome would that be to have a mini Brachiosaurus just hanging around in your back yard? There could be a downside though. You think rats are bad? Imagine a bunch of mini Velociraptors running around.

Hehe, I'm gonna have good dreams tonight.

Commentary: This is one of my more recent blogs as you can see. I was trying to get to my first blog post and this one just jumped out at me. Now just because I posted this just a few months ago, it doesn't mean I hadn't thought about having a miniature dinosaur as a pet long before that. I'm sure everybody has thought of that at least once, am I right? A little paludarium with some tiny Stegosaurus', Triceratops', Apatosaurus' and maybe a few of whatever those swimming dinosaurs were called.

Somebody really needs to get on that.

What is the deal?

..with airline food? No, I'm kidding. We're not going there.

This is going to be about the mail system.

A few months ago my friend KaTrina (I linked her again!) and I decided it would be fun to mail each other a letter with candy inside. She sent me one of those delicious candy apple suckers, and I sent her a stick of taffy (at least I'm pretty sure that's what it was, she'll correct me if I'm wrong).

Now she sent hers off without a hitch. I would be getting it in a few days and I'd enjoy my yummy candy and a nice little letter. Then I tried to send mine. Not so hitch-less.

I stuffed the candy I bought and the little note I wrote into the envelope, wrote the addresses and stuck a stump on there. I think I asked my Mom if a stamp would be enough to get it to Missouri. And if I did, then she must have said yes because I sent that sucker (well, taffy stick. I was getting the sucker :) off and proceeded to wait for my letter to arrive.

That's exactly what I got the next day... MY letter! The one I sent the day before. Insufficient postage was the culprit! Now the reason I'm not sure if I asked my Mom about it, is because she kinda laughed a little when she saw what happened and told me one stamp wasn't enough. Soo I went to the post office and paid what I needed to get the letter to it's intended recipient.

I breathed a sigh of relief. There were to be no more hitches...but the story would be boring if it stopped there. So here's what happened next.

The day after I re-sent KaTrina's letter, I was expecting to receive mine. She had sent her letter before I sent mine so I knew it'd be there either that day or the next. What I got had something to do with her letter, but not much else. It was a note left by the mailman letting me know that a letter arrived with insufficient postage and I would need to pay what was owed to get it.

So hold on. I can't mail a letter with insufficient postage... but she can? AND I have to pay for it? Okay, y'know what? Fine. I guess I should applaud Washington for having such stringent laws when it comes to outgoing mail. Besides, I want this letter really bad and I don't care how much I have to pay to get it.

And I like driving to Pasco.

That's right, the letter wasn't even in my city. Or county for that matter (it's not a big deal though. it's right there). So I go out to the Pasco post office with the nice little note I got instead of my letter, and ask if I can have my letter now...please?

"We're sorry, but our letter carriers won't be back until after we close. If you come back tomorrow we can get it for you then."

Now I know when something is funny. I know that it may not be too terribly funny right now, but eventually it'll be something to laugh at. I knew that what was happening right then was hilarious, and KaTrina would think so too, but I was honestly a little pissed that I'd have to wait another day to get my letter.

When I got home I called KaTrina and related the entire story to her. And just like I predicted she started to laugh. What normally would have taken a couple days for me to really find funny, only took a few seconds of listening to her until I started to laugh too.

The next day I went to the Pasco post office and was able to get my letter. Totally worth it. And honestly, when would something like this happen again?

Yesterday actually :) On eBay, I won the auction for a GBA game I'd been wanting since I got my DSLite over a year ago. The following conversation (with myself) may or may not have taken place. But it's hilarious nonetheless (I hope).

"Well hello there little note. You sure look awfully familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before or... ... ... you sonuvabitch."

What do you do for a living?

I'm an astronaut cowboy millionaire!

Yeah uh, no.

Man, that makes my current job as a dishwasher even less impressive now.

Yeah, I wash dishes for a living. I enjoy my job mostly because I don't have to deal with the public. Now that taken by itself would come off as harsh to the public, but have you worked with the public recently? Or at all?

If you have and you're still wondering why being surrounded by dirty dishes (practically daring you to get them clean) is enjoyable because it's private... let me spell it out for you:

People can be dumb. And some people, when they are dumb and need help, can be hostile as well. And when do dumb people usually need help? When they're customers!

Before the job I have now, I was a customer service associate for Amazon.com for about six months. While it really was a great place to work, after a few months it got to be really hard even showing up. I was so worried about dealing with an irate caller that it took every ounce of will I had to log on to my phone each day.

I would usually go for days and not have a single difficult customer, but there were always plenty of dumb ones. One day I had 60 calls and 45 of them were about the exact same thing. Whatever it was that could create that many calls just had to be difficult right? Right? No.

They wanted to know how to log out of their account on the website. Now it may be because I worked for the company and knew their website in and out, but it's beyond simple and to have trouble with it is just ludicrous.

There are so many more examples from all the jobs I've had that have included the public in some way that you can bet I'll be back to expound upon them. Or you could go here for the time being.

He's really gonna do it!

Sophomore efforts are always the most critically viewed in any endeavor. I'm glad I don't have to worry about that here :)

I never sit down with the intention of writing a new blog. Whenever I've tried to do that, whatever I put out isn't all that good. Or at least it's not up to my standards. I'm usually just struck with a bit of inspiration and I empty it all on the page.

If you know me, or read my mom's blog entry about me, then you know I'm creative. It doesn't take much to get that spark going and it makes me happy that I'm able to take that spark and turn it into something that other people enjoy.

There's a certain skill that I have. I used to call it a trick but a friend I used to work with at Hastings, who was also a professor at CBC, told me it was demeaning to call it that. Anyway, the 'skill' that I have is that I'm able to come up with a story idea from a single word. And despite doing very well with words, it's kinda hard to explain. So I usually do it by example:

Somnambulist
Homage/parody of Tell Tale Heart. A man is faking insomnia to qualify for disability. One night an official comes to make sure he actually has insomnia. Soon enough his pillow starts talking to him, yelling 'Sleep!' louder and louder. Ends humorously.

Box
Harold is in prison. On a spaceship. In the middle of freaking nowhere! His only escape are the dreams he experiences in his gravity free cell. Once released, he think it's only one of his dreams. And... iunno, dies probably. It'll be a series most likely.

Buried (Somewhere in the Closet)
Sometimes the dead come back to life. But only to keep living as they were before. A kind of social commentary on the repetitiveness that life can offer :)

30
In a society where years of age is represented by 10's instead of ones, a 20 year old is about to turn 30.

Those story ideas were all thought up by single words and even a number as you can see.

"But Kelly? Why did you call it a trick?"

Well, because I can do it on command. Seriously. Say any word and I can come up with a somewhat detailed synopsis for a story based around that word. Some of my best stuff has come from my friends coming up to me and saying a random word. One of my favorite stories even came from the word randomness (from a friend at an old job, and I'm still writing it).

So if people besides my immediate family and KaTrina are reading this, give me a word, ANY word, and I'll give you a story.

These are the words... those ones, right there

So I tried to start this back in April but it was two in the morning and I don't do well with anything that isn't sleeping or gaming when it's that late (or early for the farmers out there). So that's why it's July and I'm just now getting a real blog post up.

What is this blog going to be about? Honestly, I have no idea. My other blog on MySpace, which already has over 200 blogs (so get to work! :P) , is completely scattershot itself. I wax poetic, I make witty observations, complain, bitch, whine and sometimes open up with mixed results. It's all me though and that's likely how this one will turn out.

To help keep my blog populated I'll be peppering it with some of my favorite posts from my aforementioned blog, but it won't just be a simple copy and paste: I'll write a short synopsis about the post too! Y'know, how I was feeling at the time or the reason I posted it. Stuff like that. Kinda like a Director's Cut. Now doesn't that sound wonderful?

Oh yes, I can hear the collective applause emanating from beyond my monitor now... never mind... it was just the CPU fan.

Regardless,

WELCOME TO MY NEW BLOG!