insert quippy title here

This used to just be a way to pass the time at a job where very little was expected of me and with very little oversight. Things are a little different now. I work in insurance and, well, I sort of hate it. Constantly. I'm not sure what that has to do with this blog, except that it is about to become the place where I spew the vitriole that has built up over the last year and a half. It's this or I burn the place down, and that sounds like fun, but I'm sure it would just be a hassle.

Name:
Location: La plus-ou-moins-belle province., Canada

I started this thing working at a job I loved, where I had nearly unlimited internet access and free time. I was basically paid to do nothing. Now I work for an insurance company. I just cried, just now.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Wedding Invitation Drafts

1) We're getting married on Oct. 7th. If you don't come, we'll think you don't care about us!

2) No, seriouly, we really are this time!

3) On October 7th of this year, Kym and Spencer will be exchanging their vows of love, cementing their lifelong partnership of fighting crime, unleashing vigilante justice upon evil pirate assassins by the light of the quarter moon. It'll be fucking awesome! What? Maeve will wait in the car. Yes, the doors will be locked. Geez. Lighten up. The wedding will take place....

4) On Octover 7th of this year, you are invited to Kym and Spencer's wedding, where they will swear their love to each other, before the world and their enemies.

5) We are getting married! The ceremony will take place October 7th of this year, at Kym's parents' home, and we would love if you could come and see how hot the woman I'm marrying is!

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

What was I thinking?

I just realized something that most grooms figure out at one point or another, most of them sooner than I have, I'm sure.

Weddings aren't for grooms. Weddings are for brides and parents.

Grooms just need to be told when to show up. Grooms are there so that everyone has something to point at and snicker while waiting for the main event (read: the bride's entrance).

A groom's main concern is staying the fuck out of his fiancee's way as she plans what the day will entail. A groom sits quietly and waits to find out which tux he will be wearing. He is there to nod in approval to whatever he is told.

And if he's told to rent a tux, against his wishes, than that's what he'll fucking do. If he's told that a string arrangement of "Nothing Else Matters" is not going to happen, then it's not going to happen.

And that was the Venting Minute with the Dude.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

I'm so screwed.

You know, it occurred to me last night that I'm getting married in less than 2 months, and we haven't done a god damned thing to get ready. I mean, nothing. I know it's been done in shorter periods of time, but I'm not likin' this at all. No justice of the peace, no appropriate clothes, no music. No invitations. No rings. We are so fucked. At least that's what everyone says.

This being the 3rd or 4th date that we've post-poned to, I don't think convincing Kym to put it off again is in the cards. Not to mention the parents. Dear god, the parents. They have all sorts of helpful (read: worse than useless) recommendations of the half-measures and comprimises we can submit to in order to have some sort of wedding on October 7th. Rented tux. A local minister who's just been ordained. And so forth.

Now, we want a secular wedding; no religious overtones or undertones. Not into the church thing, us. And a rented tux... No, Roger, just no.

I have no idea how we're gonna pull this off, really. I shudder to think of the scenes that will no doubt be occurring between now and then. These scenes are likely to include:

1) A wedding-dress-related meltdown.

2) A wedding-cake-related meltdown.

3) A guestlist-related meltdown of biblical proportions.

4) A sudden panic related to the honeymoon (which, in passing, has barely been discussed at all).

I'm gonna need more vodka.....

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Statistics.



Wednesday, August 09, 2006

America's Next Serial Killer

Okay, so there's this guy by the name of Steve Sutton. He's got a video blog that he's had running since April, "Twenty O Six" (2006). I just stumbled on this today, and I am scared shitless.

You laugh, maybe. But really. Look at his eyes. His darting eyes. Look at the way he shakes his head when he describes something. He's angry. This is a guy who's just disgusted with the world. This is the guy, man.

"Oh, he was always quiet. Never caused trouble. A little boring."

Actually, he's more than a little boring. Seriously, what the fuck? "It's a little hot for April, don't you think?" With an irritated head shake.

But the fact that he's boring isn't the issue here. It's a symptom. This is beyond the realm of boredom, folks. This is boredom with special effects. This is a willful embrace of mediocrity and uneventfulness.

In short, this is a killing spree waiting to happen.

Look at him. Those shifty eyes. Those shop teacher glasses. The monotone, strangely enunciated mode of speech. There's madness there. Madness.

Yeah, yeah, I'm crazy. Just remember, you heard it here first. Steve Sutton. Yeah.



Thanks to Something Awful for bringing this to my attention.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Yeah, I got nothin'

You'd think that someone who fancies himself as funny as I do would be putting more material out there. I guess I'm more of the incidental humor type. I don't do as well at this observational humor thing, which seems to be the mainstay of contemporary comedy. I make funny jokes on the spot, I'm good at making puns so terrible that they're actually funny.

What seems to get more laughs (and shocked stares) than anything else, though, is my occasionally explosive temper. Now, I'm not violent or anything. I'm 5'4" and weigh in at 130 lbs. soaking wet. I couldn't hurt someone if I wanted to. Which I don't.

Most of the time. Previous posts will provide examples of the exceptions.

I'm a laid back guy. I try to roll with the punches for the most part. Where Kym will freak the fuck out, I usually just try to think in terms of solutions rather than problems. Usually. But, I guess I don't channel my frustrations well, because they tend to stay under the surface until they reach critical mass. So you end up with scenes where I'm arguing, loudly, with a reticent stereo that insists that there is no disc in the player, when clearly there is one. I'll have debates. I have this thing about taking shit from inanimate objects.

My thing is, I don't take shit from inanimate objects. If they're not doing their job, I will take to threatening them with a hatchet or hammer. If this proves ineffective, I go through with the next logical step, which is to chastise the offending object with said hammer or hatchet. Following this will be a scene of Kym bringing the hammer down on me, figuratively speaking. These scenes are doubtless frustrating for Kym, because I remain typically unrepentant in these matters.

"I'm sorry babe, but the DVD player had to die. Its time was here. It was old, it was tired. AND THE GOD DAMNED FUCKER WON'T PLAY WHAT I DAMN WELL TELL IT TO! THAT'S WHAT ITS FUCKING JOB IS!"

And if you don't do the job you're hired to do, well, you get axed. Plain and simple. This is just logic, here.

Another example was the case of the dick-swiping toilet.

In my new (soon to be old) apartment, the toilet had one of those resevoirs that bulges out a little bit. Coupled with a seat cover that also bulged upwards, it was a precarious balance when I would take a leak. Meaning, that the best I could do when lifting the seat was to put it at it's exact point of balance. Inevitably, the thing would fall down, attacking my wang, 2 pisses out of 3. This persisted for about 2 weeks, until it caught me. That day I was just too slow, and I got dickslapped by a toilet. Now, as I said, getting guff from an inanimate object is a bit of a pet peeve for me. They do what I tell them to do. I'm animate, they're not. And since they're not animate, I have no compunctions about getting a little rough.

As a sidenote here, this isn't bragging. None of these stories are things to be particularly proud of. Just wanted to be clear on that.

To return to the story, well, I got my cock slapped by a toilet. This would not do. I slammed the seat back up to its necessary position, perhaps with excessive force. Okay, definitely with excessive force. Enough force to crack the resevoir in about half a dozen places, actually. This was not cool. In brief, I had a toilet pissing on my floor. I had lost to a plumbing fixture.

The whole thing sort of stunned me. I said earlier that I deal with problems in a solution-oriented fashion. Well, not this time. The extent of my resourcefulness at this point was pretty much to stare at what I had done in stunned silence, followed by a very sheepish, "Kym?"

She sort of took charge at that point. We basically had to shut off the water, and go buy a new toilet the next day. We did the switch ourselves, because I didn't really feel like explaining the situation to my landlord.

"Yeah, uh, the toilet, like, attacked my dick. Well, it didn't hurt, exactly, but shit, A TOILET SLAPPED MY KNOB! So I, like, broke the toilet to get back at it." I'm sure that would have gone over real well.

Actually, most of the people Kym has told (and believe you me, she's not shy about sharing this little gem) seem to think the whole thing is pretty god damned amusing. And not in a "Dude, you're a cut-up" kind of way. More like, "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

But I'll tell you this: Our new toilet knows not to fuck with me.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

A recent photo op.


I could explain this picture, but I think it's actually funnier if I don't.