I need to stop reading newspapers, because more often then not I am reduced to a annoyed, eye rolling wreck of a man.

Today's entry, an article about a teacher in the New York school system who quit and moved back to his home state of Michigan because he was disillusioned with how things were being done.

One of his students should have failed and failed horribly.  After not graduatingthe previous year, she attended his math class about half the time and didn't show up for the final.  She did, however, attend the Senior Prom.

She got the opportunity to take a make up final, and after two days of tutoring by another teacher, managed to score a 66.  Though a passing grade, not even close enough to getting her through the class and he failed her, only for the principal to pass her anyway.

 The best part was, the girl's mother is actually quoted as saying that her daughter did the required work and that the the teacher should "be a man" about it.

It's lovely to know that another dumb kid with an overblown sense of entitlement is going out into the big, wide world to do, something. 

Just another reason why I see myself living as a hermit in a Montana log cabin in the near to distant future, writing a rambling manuscript that no one will ever read,

sans the letter bombs, of course.

 

 

I have two things I wanted to get down for posterity before they get lost amidst all of the really deep thoughts coursing through my head.

1) On the "Oh my god, you are all a bunch of fucking assholes" scale, anyone who starts a rant about the shootings by talking about how it could have been prevented had everyone on campus been allowed to carry guns ranks slightly below people who picket the funerals of gays who die from hate crimes with signs basically saying that they deserved it, but only by a hair.

2) If the fact that I actually agreed with something that emerged from the painkiller popping mouth of Rush Limbaugh isn't one of the seven signs of the apocalypse, it should be.

Basically, someone brought up video games as a possible instigator of the incident and Rush actually defended them.

My world is all askew. 

And lo, da crank didst return from the annual rite of torture known as Katsucon. After three days of being bombarded by teenybopper fans, bad cosplay and Shonen Ai/Yaoi manga, thereby reminding him once again that he ain't a kid any more, he came home in a funk.

And lo, did he embrace the funk, and it sucked.  And he idly wondered if he ever that dorky and lo did he took solace in the fact that there was no way in hell he was ever that dorky.  Then he didn't feel so bad that he felt the need, at several points during the weekend, to beat on someone till they learned from it.

I guess I'm just channeling my inner bully, and hand over your lunch money too while you're at it.

Still in a funk though.  Help me somebody, the funk has got me!

 

 

 

 

I'm turning thirty on the 29th of this month.  Only a few scant weeks of twenty-somethingdom left. 

Just throwing it out there

Growing up I'd always hoped people would do things for my birthday without having to be told repeatedly when it was.  I discovered from this that if you don't let people know, they won't do anything.  Granted most of my birthdays sucked independent of the fact that no one knew but I'm sure it didn't help all that much. 

On the other hand, it really is a fool's game to pin all your hopes on one specific day.  It's a recipe for disaster with triple chocolate frosting.

Not that I want people to shower me with gifts or anything, I really just want a small blowout celebrating the fact that I'm one year closer to death and one day closer to dying alone.

And people could buy me drinks, because alcoholism doesn't cause itself, you've gotta work at it.

If I had to describe the pain in my head right now on a scale of 1 to 10, it would most definitely be rated "B" for bodacious.  I just wanted all three of you to know that if there is an alien eating it's way out of my head, culminating in a really awesome blood splatter on the wall behind me, I want to be buried at sea.

That and I definitely need my CDs to be interred with me.  Then again, I'll be dead so I probably wouldn't know if you put the entire thing on ebay.  But for the love of god, don't take anything less than 5000 for the lot, though it would be highway robbery to let it go that low.

I was going to launch into some witty tirade about how completely unsatisfied with the state of my life right now but that's old news.  I was also going to bitch about how I've completely lost whatever girl attracting mojo I think I had at some point and feel like I'm lapsing back into being a total weirdo.  A creepy, asexual weirdo.

Well, I suppose not getting laid ever again cuts down on the chances of unwanted pregnancies and/or contracting Herpes Simplex VIII.

 

 

 

Surprise, surprise.

The one and only me is back, wasting time like only I can, avoiding the one jillion and one things I really should be doing instead of updating my myspace profile.

If your looking for something profound and inspiring, look elsewhere dear readers.  I'm just messing with ya'll. 

That and Guitar Hero II rox.

Soon, very soon, the match none of you wanted to see but are getting anyway is coming to your town.

In the red corner, formerly from Calgary, Alberta, now residing in Atlanta, wearing trunks bearing the hammer and sickle, weighing in at a fit and trim 212 lbs, the master of disaster, the sultan of swing, the ayatollah of rock and rolla, the man too stupid to stay away and too smart to not stay away, the sexiest fucking skinhead this side of outer space: I present to you.......

Alright, I got nothing.

It's late, I can't sleep and all the little things I have to take care of before I jet over to Otakon are running through my head not unlike the roadrunner, complete with the tongue wag and the meep-meep sound effect. I'm hyped as hell to have something to look forward to this weekend. People to interact with, things to write about, drinks to be consumed, shit to be wrecked and a freshly received angry letter about my recap/review about the Dir en grey concert from several months back.

It tickles me pink and purple and all other sorts of girly colors that someone was actually pissed off enough to lob abuse in my general direction.

This is what I live for.

Though copious amounts of ale and whores wouldn't hurt either.

Another band lost to the trends.

There I was flipping the channels, because no one of any sane mind can watch WWF programming without having to turn away and there it was, some really cheezy looking emo band's music video. Ridiculous outfits, stupid haircuts, bad dye jobs and the same chorus repeated way past the point of it being catchy. I had to know the name of what band I was going to viciously mock and turn my nose up.

Maybe I should have turned back to Pirate Paul Birchill being buried by Mark Henry, because imagine my surprise when I saw that this wonderful little ditty was by Lostprophets.

It's amazing really. Two albums ago they were the band I thought was the spiritual successor to Faith no More, one of my favorites. One album from toning it down to the point where they were indistinguishable from all the other alterna metal bands like Hoobastank, Finger Eleven and their ilk.

Even more bizarre is that the album was produced by Bob Rock, ruiner of Metallica, among other bands.

I'm shocked, SHOCKED.

Good evening all you fly cats and kittens,

I had attempted to broadcast this yesterday but after writing something and then erasing it about a dozen or so times, I decided against it.

With a clearer head, I will now cut to the chase.

I was fired yesterday.

Oh, I'm sorry. Not fired. I "resigned, effective immediately." The only difference between the two is I'm still in "good standing" with the company. Thinking back on it now, I should have taken the termination option, considering how I have no intention of ever working for the Ritz Carlton ever again and I probably could have used the unemployment.

I'm still mystified as to why they suddenly decided to do this, especially considering how understaffed we are in the F&B position. Granted, I was never the greatest supervisor but I was reliable and timely and did my job to the best of my abilities. Incredibly shortsighted of them, but then again, I have come to expect nothing less from the place, which dazzled me time and time again with shortsighted and boneheaded decisions.

My boss, who never liked me and I'm sure was itching to use any excuse to get rid of me, deluged me in a huge load (and I do mean load) of bullshit reasonings for the state of affairs. I suppose I'll never know the real bullshit reason for my termination.

All I can take solace in is the fact that nothing that goes on there will ever be my problem again. That and I can finally grow back the chin scruff. I missed it so much.

I have heard tell that my boss might also not be in his position for much longer.
This gives me much pleasure, though I wish they had done so before he fired me. I must remember to send him an e-mail if and when that happens.

The cockmonger.

People are always telling me how negative I am, I think I'm being realistic.

And taking this a step further, people who are positive about things are probably being unrealistic.

I find that where I work, if you voice reservations and doubts about the feasibility of something working, people will complain that you're being too negative. Apparently it's better to keep a positive attitude, try something and fail miserably.

Did I mention how much I hate my job?

Really? That many times? Wow!

And coming from the, "suddenly feelin' really old" department, I just received a e-mail from an old girlfriend from my time overseas. The usual, "Hey, long time, no see, it's cherry blossom time, blah blah blah, and suddenly I get an "I'm married" in the gut and an " I just had a baby" upside the head.

Needless to say, it came as a surprise. We had a short, tumultous relationship that ended poorly and I'm not afraid to admit that the breakup did a number on me. I can honestly say that I never imagined her getting married as young as she did, but then again, it's Japan. All women are socialized from birth to want nothing more than a husband to work long hours and cheat on her and to be constantly barefoot and pregnant.

I think it might even be embedded in the constitution somewhere.