There is a sweet amount of satisfaction in doing this. You buy a cockroach or rat, it gets named for your ex and is feed to an animal at the zoo. You get confirmation and everyone is happy. Also, fuck your ex.
For the second year in a row, the wild and crazy staff at the San Antonio Zoo offers the brokenhearted a novel way to oh-so-satisfyingly get back at their exes on Valentine’s Day. Yes, their incredibly popular Cry Me a Cockroach Fundraiser is back!
For a small non-refundable donation of $5.00, $10.00, or $25.00, the zoo staff will “symbolically name a [cock]roach, rat, or veggie after your ex or not-so-special someone.” The San Antonio Zoo staff will then happily feed your selection of a bug, a rodent, or a vegetable to a deserving and hungry zoo animal.
Don’t worry, animal lovers and PETA, no additional rats are killed specifically for the brokenhearted’s vengeful pleasure. All the rats used in the fundraiser are pre-frozen, just like the usual rodents that are fed to the animals as part of their regular daily scheduled feedings. “They are delivered frozen from a mouse farm and stored at [the] Nutrition Center until thawed for feedings,” the zoo’s website states.
Additionally, participants of Cry Me a Cockroach receive “a digital Valentine’s Day Card” showing their support for the fundraiser, including the cockroach, rat, or veggie dedication to your ex. And just for, um, fun, this card could be sent to your ex or posted to your personal social media to let the world know you’ve been, um, thinking of your ex. Sharing is caring, amirite?
I played this game with the El Paso Zoo a couple of years ago. I named one for my college gf who turned into a traveling whore when she was a stewardess. The other was just deserving of one. She cheated on her husband although not with me. I had nothing to do with it other than watching her (from the sidelines) ruin someone else’s (and her own) life.
The people at the zoo were amazed at how much vitriol people had for the ones that did them wrong.
Small talk is one of the more tiring things for introverts,. I avoid that situation at every chance. I love a deep conversation, but once someone starts in on how their day went in minute detail, I can’t help but turn into my own world and wish the conversation to be over as quickly as possible.
The other is ice breakers. Tell us something about yourself. Um, I don’t like to talk about myself, how’s that?
I’d hold it before I’d go just to not talk to not be here. This is at a Dr.’s office though. I see the door where you pass the piss sample in the cup
If I say call me, it’s because I’m betting you won’t. I’m tossing over the fence for you to make the move. I wouldn’t call either way. A cryptic text at best that doesn’t leave much of a window to respond.
These kids belt out the national anthem and are proud of the country, unlike the girls soccer team that lost while trashing and hating the country, men and strait people. Take that Rapinoe, you horrible person.
I suppose everyone says this. I can’t change anything so I’m not going to try to. I’m just trying to enjoy these times. If I’d told myself what to do/not do, it would have turned out different. It might have changed the whole space/time continuum, and I don’t want to tempt God or the Sci Fi world.
Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery and the present is gone in an instant.
At the end of the year, we hear predictions about the future, many of which have been proven wrong — from the end of the world due to climate change, to the telephone is just a toy.
(There is a story, probably apocryphal, that in 1876, the president of Western Union, William Orton, dismissed phones as a “toy” when Alexander Graham Bell offered to sell him the patent for $100,000.)
The past is a better teacher if we will pay attention to successes and mistakes so that we might avoid one and embrace the other.
A hundred years ago, the ’20s were roaring and President Calvin Coolidge did things the current president and Congress would do well to emulate.
Coolidge won a landslide victory running on a platform of limited government, reduced taxes and less regulation.
He followed through on all three, creating an economic boom. (Where have you gone, Silent Cal, our nation turns its lonely eyes to you).
Coolidge also signed an immigration law that regulated the number of foreigners who could come to America.
Asian people were especially targeted, but one must understand the challenges of the time, which involved civil war in China and growing unrest in Japan.
According to Densho Encyclopedia, the announced motivation of the legislation was the “widespread fear of radicalism that contributed to anti-foreign sentiment and exclusionist demands. Supporters of immigration legislation stressed recurring themes: Anglo-Saxon superiority and foreigners as threats to jobs and wages.”
Sound familiar?
A lot happened in 1924.
Vladimir Lenin died at 53 from a stroke. Lenin’s body was embalmed and put on display in Red Square for public viewing.
He seems to have been reincarnated as Vladimir Putin.
Adolf Hitler is sentenced to five years in prison for his role in the Beer Hall Putsch.
He is released after just nine months, but uses his time while incarcerated to write “Mein Kampf,” which, among other things, describes how he became antisemitic.
His poison still infects us.
J. Edgar Hoover is named head of the FBI.
George H.W. Bush was born in Milton, Massachusetts. Woodrow Wilson dies.
Jimmy Carter was born in Plains, Georgia.
Actor Marlon Brando, who would change the way many actors performed, was born in Omaha, Nebraska.
Also born this year is American novelist and playwright James Baldwin in Harlem, New York, as is Truman Capote.
The comic strip “Little Orphan Annie” debuts. In the 1970s it would become a hit musical on Broadway and a movie.
The first newsreel pictures of American presidential candidates are taken, forecasting the age of television and its use during election campaigns.
The first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is held in New York.
In sports, Dallas Cowboys head coach Tom Landry was born, and the Washington Senators won their first World Series.
It would be 95 years until they win another one under a different name (Washington Nationals).
Johnny Weissmuller sets the 100-meter world freestyle record at 57.4 seconds. His fame would increase when he played Tarzan in the movies.
Carol Taylor invents the ice cream cone rolling machine. Yum.
May we celebrate together, but alone and separately. Talk to you tomorrow because I’m not talking today.
It’s my favorite holiday after just suffering through Christmas and New Years. I can be alone today. Somewhere out there (although probably quiet) my fellow souls finally have some joy. It’s doubtful others will hear about it as we don’t boast, and other times you can’t get a word in edge wise for all the yapping.
I know and so do others.
PS, I’m not an INFJ.
This next one is me. I’m always in the back, next to the door so I can leave if I need to escape or panic
It won’t get as much coverage as other Pride parades or whatever day’s. I’ll bet people don’t know how many introverts there really are in the world. They just don’t need to tell everyone about it, like the vegans.
For the first time in 47 years, the Adams County SPCA in Pennsylvania is completely empty. All of their dogs got adopted. 14/10 for everyone ❤️ pic.twitter.com/OQp4Ip8fBi
What does tomorrow mean to us? I thought about that today. It occurred to me that I don’t have as many tomorrows left. As endless as they used to be, I’d grab at a new handful of them. For now, I’m glad to have the next one. They grow fewer every day (sorry, I had to put that in)
Young
When I was young, I never thought about tomorrow. It always came. Some took forever like when I cared about my birthday, and others flew by.
When something has an endless supply, the value is less. It’s economics. I never considered that I’d be working, or retired, or would have kids, a mortgage or any responsibility. Live for today. It was all about today. I had no real yesterday’s to learn from yet.
If I did think about tomorrow, it was the kid dream about being an astronaut or pilot (what I thought about).
That was so long ago and the days between now and then are so numerous that it seems, like another life for me. I’ve lived many different lives within the one I chronologically am still in.
School
I recall sitting in the classroom watching the clock ticking away. Tick, tick, tick towards when I’d be able to go home. Time was endless on those days, and this was just between 2 and 2:15 in elementary school. The only good tomorrow started on Friday.
By the time I got to college, I was aware that life was right around the corner. Still, I enjoyed the day without a care. I ignored that inevitable tomorrow. When it came, it was in the form of an exam, or a girlfriend or another event in life. It was finite and had little consequence as to what my next day held. Still, I had no real cares and a lot of what tomorrow brought was a new experience.
Letdowns started to happen, but the ocean of tomorrows never crossed my mind as I did stupid stuff. I think I lost a few tomorrows by taking too many risks. Somehow I survived and was able to live to the next day, always another tomorrow. It was expected.
Responsibility Years
Life marched on and I grew up, bought a home and started a family. Tomorrows always came, but now they came with other’s problems also. It wasn’t the carefree days when your kid is sick or in trouble. I didn’t have time to think about tomorrow as today brought 10 tons of manure in a 5 ton truck.
So much is happening in your life you take tomorrow for granted or you are too busy to think about anything but today. If you do, those thoughts are invaded with things you have to get done or do for others.
I did notice one thing. I was starting to have a lot of yesterday’s. Some of them happy and some sad. There were lessons learned on both.
The ocean of tomorrows was still seemingly full as it (now) quickly drained away.
Deaths
The first reminders of fewer tomorrows happened here. Those you used to know have run out of tomorrows.
When you are young, say at a grandparents funeral, you can’t comprehend time not being endless for you. By middle age, you know it is closer, but most choose to ignore the reality of time slipping away.
Growing Older
Rarely, do tomorrows bring something new to me. Occasionally, I get a different version of something I’ve been through. I have many more yesterdays now than the number of tomorrows remaining.
The kids are grown. The mortgage is paid off. I no longer work. I’m among the oldest of my relatives now. It brought me to how many tomorrows there will be. Among those, how many will be good or bad? Will there be tough times?
I try to enjoy the days, even if the tasks are mundane. I have less patience for things that don’t seem meaningful to me. My meaningful scale has changed dramatically over life.
From time to time (becoming far too common), people I know run out of their tomorrows. As I sit at the funerals, life comes into perspective for me, at least the part on Earth.
Tomorrows aren’t endless. You only come with so many. Some have more than others and some enjoy them more than others.
Most of life’s struggles are over, except what happens when the tomorrow’s are running out.
Here’s hoping for another tomorrow, and that it doesn’t suck for me.
This much attention is overwhelming for an introvert. i can’t wait for it to be over. I can’t hear another Christmas song on the speaker anywhere.
What I hate the most is how people change and act different when I know damn well what asswipes they are the rest of the year. I hate their fake attitude because it’s the Christmas spirit, or whatever lie they are telling.
I like the meaning of Christmas, but the crap that people do around it, compounded by the commercialization since September and I want to pull my hair out.
This is true every year. I can’t wait for it to be over so we can go back to being who we really are.
“The worst form of inequality is to try to make unequal things equal.” — Aristotle
I have to deal with Scandinavians I’m related to by marriage. They believe in the concept of Janteloven and continually use it to trash the USA. Mostly they try to justify that their country is better. Fortunately, I can almost gauge what is the wrong thing by them telling me what they believe in and that is it. Their country is of course held up as the model of socialism by Bernie, the Squad and other idiots. That’s just more proof for me to intuitively know it is wrong.
I call BS on it because history says otherwise. Did the USA go to the moon because of equality or exceptionalism? How about helping the rest of the world with medicine, discoveries, advancements in technology and improving the quality of life around the world. What has Jante given the world other than stopping being conquering Vikings?
School board administrators in their mindless pursuit of “equity” have decided to eliminate honors English classes in a prestigious academic district where parents would be delighted to enroll their children: Santa Monica High School.
The sentiment behind the initiative was best summed up by Sarah Rodriguez, an English teacher at the high school. She, and others involved in the 1½ year pursuit of the initiative, wanted to be “fair” to all students, and not make anyone feel left out or marginalized.
“This is not about labeling students or labeling classes,” Rodriguez says. “What we’re doing is, we’re saying this is a new paradigm.” Her overview of this new paradigm — she insists — is about “all of our students (being) capable and we’re going to meet them where they are.”
It’s a beautiful sentiment, but lacking in reality of what’s going to happen to the bright and gifted students’ opportunities for advanced education. She failed to mention how the initiative would “meet” their needs in a dumbed-down curriculum.
Parents have made it clear to administrators that they view the “equity initiative” as another example of administrators being shortsighted, if not blinded, by the end results of their bad decisions. “A race to the bottom,” is now a popular term used by parents to describe this and other diversity programs contributing to the eroding academic standards in public schools.
“We really feel equity means offering opportunities to students of diverse backgrounds, not taking away opportunities for advanced education and study,” says parent Joanna Schaenman, who spearheads an effort to reinstate honors class at a school where her child attends in Culver City.
The one-size (academic curriculum) fits all students, Schaenman says, is not beneficial for the students who are willing to work harder and achieve higher academic outcomes.
This parental push back is popping up at school board meetings at different high schools operating in one of the nation’s most “progressive” regions: Los Angeles Unified School District.
“I have a child in high school,” one mother told the school board in Culver City. “It is too easy in his classroom” since the elimination of the honors classes. “They (administrators) say it’s equity, they say that’s the reason and therefore it’s okay,” she added. It is far for “okay,” she says, pointing out her son is “no longer challenged in class.”
This complaint is shared by many parents who are watching the decline of their children’s education. Now my son is “bored in class,” offers another parent.
Sensitivities expressed by the administrators in the interest of underperforming students does not appear to extend to parents of the more accomplished students. Parents objecting to the “dumbed-down” curriculum have been subject to slurs and insults by faculty and administrators: “Racist” is a common fallback term used by administrators to label parents objecting to the “equity initiatives.” At one school board meeting in another district, Asian parents were met with a sign that read: “Leave your Asian privilege at the door.”
It is now becoming harder to tag the parents as racists.
Many of the upset parents are immigrants themselves who appear as dark as the students who are underrepresented in the honors classes, primarily including Hispanic and black children.
Pedro Frigola, who is from Cuba, has two daughters attending Culver City High School. He claims the school is “performing a disservice to the students and community” with the elimination of advanced instruction.
He pointed out in a Fox television interview that the administration put forth the claim that the initiative is hatched in the name of “equity,” but “it’s not defined,” The parent stresses the necessity to provide equal opportunity for all students, but not remove opportunities for students who are excelling in their studies.
“Achieving equal outcomes at all costs,” says Frigola, is an ideology that results in holding many children back, That’s not the only drawback. Students now cannot list “advanced placement” (AP classes) on their applications when applying to Ivy League colleges, placing them at a distinct disadvantage.
This reality isn’t getting in the way of administrators championing their cause. They claim that teachers — who work with students day in and day out — are completely supportive of this “equity initiative.” That has not been Mr. Frigola’s experience when he has discussed the issue with teachers at his daughters’ high school. He reports they have expressed their concerns about the detrimental effects this initiative will have on the high-achieving students. “Of course they’re afraid to speak out because they don’t want to be reprimanded,” he says. “They have their careers to worry about.”
Mr. Frigola, who had grown up in Cuba, thought he had left behind the communist culture of censorship and fear of expressing a dissenting voice, but he was wrong.
In the meantime, embattled faculty and teachers have become more firmly entrenched in espousing their ideology. Rhetoric is becoming more harsh, with administrators now claiming advanced English classes were “perpetuating inequality.” They tend to rely on statistical data verifying black and Hispanic students are underrepresented in the honors classes. Of course, Asian students — who score consistently higher — remain overrepresented in percentages enrolled in advanced courses vs. make-up of population.
Less accomplished students appear to be picking up the messages of victimhood from the faculty. One student described his feeling as “unable to break out of the mold” and another as feeling inferior “because of the segregation” of honors from regular English classes.
“Whatever happened to the concept of working hard and earning a place in an AP class,” one parent commented on social media. “Are we teaching these children to whine rather than work hard?’
It is fair to wonder whether today’s educators are failing to prepare students for their matriculation into the real world. Students who were coddled and protected — from revamping curriculum for “equal outcomes” to handing out “participation awards” for non-athletic winners — will be sorely disappointed when they enter a merit-based system and find themselves at the end of the line for a salary increase or promotion up the corporate ladder.
I lost the link to this story, if anyone has it I’ll give it retribution.
I’ve done this many times. Works like a charm. I even stay in longer so they think I’m getting them more presents, or am having a hard time wrapping gifts.
This is the first update in a while, but it was well worth it. If I missed one, please comment and I’ll include it.
If one of these offends you, take the complaints elsewhere, I’m the one that got dissed here.
A beer short of a six pack A brick short of a load A couple of eggs shy of a dozen A couple of gallons short of a full tank A few ants short of a picnic A few beers short of a six-pack A few bricks short of a pile A few bricks short of a wall A few cards short of a deck A few clowns short of a circus. A few feathers short of a whole duck A few fries short of a Happy Meal A few peas short of a casserole A few tomatoes short of a good thick sauce
A few soldier short of a squad A few trucks short of a convoy A fortune cookie short of a Chinese dinner A pepperoni short of a pizza A photographic memory but with the lens cover glued on A sandwich short of a picnic A train short of a full service? About as bright as a burnt out 20 watt light bulb. About as useful as a chocolate fireguard Ah say, that boy reminds me of Paul Revere’s ride; a little light in the belfry An experiment in Artificial Stupidity An intellect rivalled only by garden tools As much use as a hedgehog in a condom factory As much use as an ashtray on a motorcycle As quick as a tortoise on Prozac As smart as bait
As smart as Joe Biden As useful as a screen door on a submarine As useful as a wooden frying pan As useful as tits on a bull Body by God, Mind by Mattel. Bright as Alaska in December Couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel
Could screw up a one car funeral Doesn’t have both oars in the water Doesn’t have all his corn flakes in one box Doesn’t have all his dogs on one leash Doesn’t have all the dots on his dice Donated his body to science before he was done using it Dumb as a corn cob. Dumb as a stump. Dumber than a bag of hammers. Dumber than a bag of rocks
Dumber than a lobotomized rock
Elevator don’t quiet make the top floor Fell out of the family tree Forgot to pay his brain bill Goes surfing in Nebraska Golf bag doesn’t have a full set of irons Got a full 6-pack, but lacks the plastic thingy to hold it all together Got into the gene pool when the lifeguard wasn’t watching Gross ignoramus — 144 times worse than a normal ignoramus Has an IQ of 2, but it takes 3 to grunt
This is the one —> Has delusions of adequacy.
Has two brains, one’s lost and the other is out looking for it Having an intelligence rivalled only by garden tools. He fell out of the Stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down He had a little too much chlorine in his gene pool. He is so dumb, he would look for a wishbone in a soft-boiled egg. He is so dumb, the only thing he ever read was an eye-chart. He played too much without a helmet He’s got a mind like a steel trap, rusted shut He’s got a leak in his think-tank He’s got a mind like a steel sieve He’s got his feet firmly planted 3 feet above the ground He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer He’s so dense light bends around him He’s so dumb he couldn’t pour the water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel His belt doesn’t go through all the loops His cheese has slipped off his cracker
His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork His porch light ain’t on I say, that boy is about as sharp as a sack of wet mice If brains were chocolate – he wouldn’t have enough to fill an M&M If brains were dynamite – he wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose If brains were dynamite, he wouldn’t have enough to blow his hat off If brains were gasoline, he couldn’t ride a moped around a fruit loop If brains were taxed, he’d get a rebate If he had a brain, he’d be dangerous If he had another brain, it would be lonely If he were any more stupid, he’d have to be watered twice a week If stupid were a talent, he would be considered gifted
If stupid could fly, you’d be a jet. If you gave him a penny for his thoughts, you’d get change back If you stand close enough to him you can hear the ocean Isn’t firing on all 6 cylinders Isn’t firing on all thrusters Its hard to believe that he beat out half a billion other sperm
If I wanted to kill myself I’d climb your ego and jump to your IQ Kangaroo loose in the top paddock Like a pair of children’s scissors, bright and colorful, but not too sharp Million dollar body and a 2 dollar engine. Mind is in neutral, body is in gear Mind like a rubber bear trap. Needing a few screws tightened Not firing with all spark plugs Not the brightest light in the harbor Not the brightest light on the Christmas tree Not the sharpest hook in the tackle box. Not the sharpest pencil in the box Off his rocker On/off switch is broken in the off position One Fruit Loop shy of a full bowl One neuron short of a synapse One taco short of a combination plate One turbine short of an airplane One-celled organisms out score him in IQ tests Prime candidate for natural deselection Proof that evolution CAN go in reverse Requires directions to lay sod Room temperature IQ Running about a quart low Running on empty Sets the lowest possible goals, and consistently fails to achieve them. Sharp as a bowling ball. She is so dumb, she couldn’t tell which way an elevator was going if she had two guesses. She is so dumb, when I asked her to pass the plate, she said: “Upper or lower?” She’s not tied too tight to the pier Some drink from the fountain of knowledge, he only gargled Strong like bear, smart like tractor. Takes him 1 1/2 hours to watch 60 minutes The elevator is stuck between floors. The lights are flashing, the gate is down, but the train isn’t coming The lights are on, but nobody is home. The wheel’s spinning, but the hamster’s dead Too dumb to pull his head in before he shuts the window Too many yards between the goal posts Two hub caps short of a Buick. Warning – Objects in mirror are dumber than they appear Was left on the tilt-a-whirl too long as a baby Would be out of her depth in a mud puddle. Your the flower of my life (you blooming idiot) You can’t call him an idiot, you’ll insult all the idiots in the world.
Your mouth is writing checks that your intellect cannot cash
“I’m not saying you’re the dumbest person in the world—but you better hope the dumbest person in the world doesn’t die.”
Surely your parents only met once. Money was involved; no more than a twenty. And they say she was dressed as a boy at the time.
Everyone has that one friend. In my high school, his name was Rick. For some reason, his stomach did more than ours did and when he farted, it cleared the room. One time, we were outside waiting for a concert and he let one fly. Even in the open air the crowd parted it was so bad.
He became a stewardess after college. He told us about crop dusting the passengers near the bathroom so they would think that it came from someone dropping a deuce.
The best story is that he was visiting the Empire State Building. Right before he got off the express elevator, he let one fly that was God awful he said. A bunch of his male stewardess friends were just getting on, and they were stuck for 50 floors in his sewer air. It was so bad that one of them gave him a hard time a full 3 months later for trapping them in that stench. I’ve tried without success since the day he told me that story to duplicate this feat.
As for me, I’ll pick the empty car every time, even if it is just one floor. I admit I’ve closed the door before others could get in. Why do people get so awkward in a specific place?
As an introvert, every closed room with strangers is awkward. It gets compounded by a group of chatty girls (any age) or someone who wants to talk. That is the quiet zone, like the library where you should STFU until it’s time to get off.
Be a good citizen and kind to introverts. Don’t talk. Also, don’t fart in elevators.
In 2015 saw a Fake Book post by Tim Charlino, a guy I used to ride bikes with that we’d elected Hitler when Trump won. It’s the new Godwin’s Law. It shows people don’t know history as well as they know name calling. Politicians routinely call each other Nazi’s to the point that it doesn’t even have any value.
Hitler killed 6 million Jews, took away their land, property, businesses, lives and dignity. That is the real Nazism.
Hamas attacked Israel on October the 7th and beheaded babies, put them in ovens, raped women and sucker punched over a 1000 people to death. They did it out of hate for Jews. That’s a lot closer to Hitler and Nazism than electing an Alpha Male from New York.
We are going through this antisemitism with Nazi like passion lead by the Muslims. Let’s call a spade a spade.
Sorry Tim, Trump isn’t Hitler, but Hamas is doing their best to carry out Hitler’s dreams.
Here’s a link around of the actions that are eerily like Germany in the ’30’s
“Our message to the sheeple of the settlers: We are awaiting you in all the cities of the West Bank from Hebron to Jenin. We will slaughter you and thou shall say afterwards what Hitler did to you was a walk in the park. We will drink your blood and we will eat your skulls. Come forward, we are awaiting you.”
The Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) was one of the highest institutes of higher learning in America. It’s where Matt Damon went in a janitor and came out a really smart masshole. Sadly, as we see with other once-respected schools, it’s nothing more than another woke antisemitism factory. And the viral video of a math class being interrupted isn’t the worst of it.
$250,000 so your math class can be interrupted by a pro-Hamas advocate screaming nonsense comes with the territory of going to an “elite” university. MIT alumni tried to warn about the woke mind virus. No one listened. This is what you get.
New York, home to more Jews than most places is also a palace of hate:
Palestine supporters attempt to enter Grand Central Terminal East 42nd Street entrance
It’s not that I don’t like others, just not all the time. Actually, I’d rather be alone most of the time. I don’t even miss others or think about missing them. Most of the time, they let me down or make the time spent together difficult. My appetite for that is over.
People drain me and consistently let me down. I’m sure I let them down when they think I should act like an extrovert, but then I don’t force myself on others.
Small talk is the most draining thing during the day. I know as soon as I get into it that it’s going to be a dreadful and useless conversation. Society expects you to go through this ritual, but that doesn’t make it meaningful or any less painful.
Give me meaningful and deep discussions and you have my attention. Otherwise, I’m happiest writing in my diary and reading.
Not caring what others think about you is a blessed relief. It’s the same when they don’t think of you also, like the remote parts of your family that are annoying.
The best man at my wedding George has the best sphincter control of anybody I’ve known. He drove across the United Stated (horizontally) and didn’t unload the whole way. He also made me paranoid about having to drop a deuce on a public toilet.
I’m a germaphobe to begin with. I don’t trust a hotel room, knowing what I’ve done in them and listening to other peoples stories also. When George was a motel manager, he’d wait until the maid cleaned the rooms and put a clean paper ribbon over the toilet seat. He took the master key and slid off the ribbon, took a shit and then put it back on.
So I’m in the gym today. It’s bad enough already as you are trying to work out and I live in a college town. That means the girls come in to work out in the fuck me shorts all decked out in nips and lips, prancing about. They show off the goods and preen in front of the mirror wearing a ponytail holder on their wrist. God forbid if one of the guys looks, then the whole gym creep thing comes out. I won’t stare because that is what they want. One girl came by this day in the see through lime green sherbet outfit 2 sizes too small and I had to do a double take to see if she was black or white. She’d spent so much time on the tanning bed she could have been either, but that makes her white. Please.
The opposite is also true. There are some that need to be at the gym because they need to lose weight and get in shape. I applaud them for doing something about it, but I am trying not to look at them either. It’s because they are trying to wear the same thing the hot girls wear and it’s not working for covering that much mass. I looked up and almost had my face in a cottage cheese barrel.
It used to be that the gym was just guys in sweat clothes would be there. Then, Jane Fonda let in all the girls and taught them take more and more off. At first,the A/C would make it nippy, but now they wearing body paint skin suits that don’t cover a thing. You know by looking whether you are ordering a #3 roast beef combo or a peach fuzz smoothy without trying. They then proceed to push their cookie up in the air like they were doing upside down doggie and we have to act like we don’t notice. They entice you to look and then get mad if you do.
Anyway, why I wrote this.
I was doing legs today. I work out in the afternoon when the traffic is light so you don’t have to wait for a machine you want to use. I do all my sports page reading business first thing in the morning so it never crossed my mind that I’d have to take a dump. It never happens past mid-morning. I felt a rumbling in my stomach and thought it couldn’t be. I was hoping for a fart and it would pass.
So I’m listening to music during hamstring curls thinking that I could move around some air and the crisis would pass. Wouldn’t you know that the song that played was Should I stay or should I go by the Clash.
I’m in a complete dilemma now as I’d just gotten there and didn’t want to leave, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. I let it go one too many leg curls until I knew I was in trouble.
Having to go on a public toilet is as much a torture thought for me as dropping the soap in the shower in jail. I didn’t have time to be able leave to find the most expensive store nearby as they usually have the cleanest bathrooms according to George.
I realized it was going to happen and I couldn’t stop it. The train was leaving the station. I grabbed the disinfecting wipes for the gym equipment and made my way to the locker room. I’m in there 4 times a week and every time I see legs in the stall with some guy laying rope. I think how disgusting that is using a public can. A bunch of sweaty MF all shitting on the same toilet. I don’t know how girls do it.
I usually go for the cripple stool as is it is less used than the regular stall. It was out of order, so I have to go on one that has been destroyed since midnight as this is a 24 hour gym.
Well, I scrubbed down the seat, then papered it like the second coming of the Mummy and all hell broke loose. You’d think I’d taken the colonoscopy medicine.
I don’t even like going on a can that others use at home and have my own bathroom I call home base. It has a bidet built in so that if I don’t get a clean break, I can get the old Japanese wash and blow dry from my seat.
My fear at the gym was that I’d have to use the whisper thin paper that doubles as a cheese grader that this was going to happen.
I didn’t even run out of toilet paper during Covid because I use the bidet seat so my bung hole has gone back to virginity. TP wiping is something I don’t do anymore.
There was someone in the bathrooms while this was going on, but I didn’t care as your rarely see the same people. It turned out to be Fred the maintenance man. Fred is there every time I’m at the gym. He is kind of like a rain man about cleaning and walked in as soon as I walked out. It was a WWIII destruction zone and I’m going to see Fred again the next time I’m there. I’ll bet he wishes he wasn’t there.
It was a terrible experience, having to open the Bombay doors somewhere other than on home base. I came home and showered, but felt violated that I had to sacrifice my standards because my stomach wouldn’t give me fair warning before I left.
All though I am the same person, I’ve run low on patience in life. I’ve tried to be nice, but this is how it is anymore. I’m a very loyal person, until you cross the line. Once I sense you aren’t loyal, all bets are off.
Like some of my other stories, there is sex, cougars and booze in case you don’t want to read about it.
About the middle of my career, I worked for a disk drive reseller, CORE International. The owner claimed they were a manufacturer, but Control Data made the drives. He lied a lot. See the artificial reef and the Time Tunnel to find out more about CORE.
We went to all of the trade shows, and in the 80’s, Comdex (Computer Dealer Expo) was king. It was in Atlanta and Vegas, but for me it was time for me to escape South Florida and explore the industry. Since I was in charge of the marketing department, it included the trade shows for CORE.
I went prior to the show and set up the booth for a week of displaying our wares to the public, going to the parties and putting up with the wieners and asswipes I worked with.
I always arrived first to set up the booth, then brought out someone from engineering or tech support to set up all the computers. There were a lot of things that have to come together before the show starts.
When I say weenies, most of the engineers couldn’t get a date if it was paid for. For this Vegas trip though, Bob the tech was married to his high school sweetheart. He was well settled down in life while I was still chasing ass. He was a good mid west salt of the earth guy, pretty much the opposite of me when it came to the opposite sex.
It was a time of life that I was at the top of my dating game. Because it was still my party days, decisions on my moral choices were more relaxed than now.
BOOTH SET UP, BRIBERY AND THE MAFIA
During set up, you had to work with the show contractors who supplied mechanical, electrical and moving your booth in and out. If you know the history of Las Vegas, it was built and probably still is run by the mafia. That means you didn’t do anything without them or they would fuck up your booth at night to teach you a lesson. I’ve seen them drive a fork lift right through a crate that held a vendor’s booth worth thousands, destroying it “by accident”. This was after a vendor yelled at them for not getting their booth delivered on time.
You could always get better service with a little green under the table. You would say you were from the Franklin company ($100 bill exchanged hands) and got in line ahead of others when I needed service. Everything ran through the mafia though and that is how it got done.
Sometimes, you had to wait your turn for service. Big companies paid bigger bribes and my company was small potatoes. The CORE owner was cheap. That meant going through their hoops to order what they had left in stock, then waiting for the supplies and manpower to get your job done. It cost me days sometimes in set up time. If he’d had let me play by the mob’s rules, I could have saved thousands on travel, hotel and food, but that’s another story.
I got accused of leaving earlier each time by one of the software engineers who my art director nicknamed needle dick. Since he was a nerd, I didn’t respect much of what he said so I went when it was right. Needle dick couldn’t scare up any gash if his life depended on it. He got adopted by a cougar at work 20 years his senior (and she had lost what little SMV she had – look that up). She got nicknamed Canyon Cooter. This difference in age was compounded by him being smart, close to the autism scale and she was one of the dumbest females I’d ever met. It made for one the biggest mismatches you’d ever see. More about them later, but suffice it to say she was going to teach him how to get a date because in his late 20’s he couldn’t get one, but wound jumping his bones.
YOU BITCH
Back to the story. I was setting up with Bob and needed some extra electrical at the booth. I didn’t have money left to bribe them so I was about 5 deep waiting in line. I watched the forms administrator girl at the desk give everyone an attitude. They knew everyone had to go through them and sort of lorded it over the exhibitors as they were the only game in town. Plus, I’m sure they could have sent Guido or Carlo to fuck up our booth if we didn’t play nice. So, I waited in line.
I looked at her name badge and it said Mary. She was the one at the counter giving the guy in front of me a really hard time. At one point, he looked back at me it was so bad that I held my hands up and shrugged. I sort of thought it might be her time of the month, or she didn’t sleep well or hated her job. It pissed me off and I felt bad for the guy taking such a beating. He was a beta male who didn’t do anything as Mary snapped at him while I watched.
I was tired from days of set up by then and knew I was going to have to deal with another time delay and an attitude when I walked up for my turn to order. Age wise, I’m well practiced at the art of pick up and had an Alpha male game going when talking to girls. I’d learned to dish it out with the best of them.
For this reason, I decided I wasn’t going to take the shit she gave the guy before me. I walked up and my opening line to Mary was, “Are you this big of a bitch to everyone?” Needless to say, it caught her off guard. She changed her attitude and minded her manners. We chatted and I caught a sly smile from her as I went back to my booth. I brushed it off and thought little of it.
I tried to explain this alpha male/female transaction to one of my in-laws, who I’ve nicknamed flounder. He reminds me of Kent Dorfman from Animal House, fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life son.
Sometimes, girls like the man who takes control and put them in their place. Flounder never understood as he only had one girlfriend in life. Mary got it though.
This time of life found me dating a girlfriend back home so I wasn’t looking for ass, but Mary was hot-ish in her own way. I kind of liked that she was feisty unlike my girlfriend who was a milk toast and was a nag right before this trip. In my head, I’d kind of broken up with her and did shortly thereafter. That’s another story
We went back to working on set up and I told Bob I’d called her a bitch. It meant that it could be a while before we got any service, so we did what we could until the help arrived. The electricians came way early so we were both surprised. (Electricians meaning they got paid $100 an hour to bring you extension cords, lay them out and plug them in, a total racket but…Mafia). Mary bumped me to the top of the list for calling her a bitch.
The day rolled on, so we finished work and were ready to call it by going to dinner and crashing at the hotel. I wasn’t a big gambler and knew we had a lot to do tomorrow so we headed out past the contractor tables kind of thinking about tomorrow.
Because the owner of the company was the biggest tightwad I’d ever met in a millionaire, I had to share a hotel room with Bob. I’d get my own room only if there was an odd count of people and I’d take the single because I was trade show manager. I also didn’t want to share a room with any of the tech wieners ever.
As we passed by, Mary was still sitting there and I wasn’t looking my best. I’d been sweating while busting ass all day in jeans and a T-shirt. They had the doors to the convention hall open as they hauled in equipment all day long. It’s hot in Vegas so I was scruffy looking in the Han Solo sort of way. Mary on the other hand had to dress appropriately as that was her job, attitude and all.
While walking by, I threw out a trial balloon to attitudy-Judy and said, Bob and I are going to dinner, I’ll buy you one if you want to come. I guessed that I’d get a laugh and figured she heard it at every show she worked. So I was preparing for the brush off when she said why not……game on.
I was finally making it in life and could afford better clothes, so I cleaned up and put on my Don Johnson Miami Vice outfit (t-shirt and white jacket with nice slacks and loafers, just like on TV). Bob was in his causal married look and wasn’t sure what to expect now that I’d invited a stray to dinner. He also knew we were sharing a room and any copulation calisthenics would have been awkward.
THE TRANSFORMATION
When I called her a bitch, I was speaking to a hair up in the bun, glasses wearing school marm girl. I could tell though that she had a tight body and had potential. Needless to say, Mary had gone home and dolled up into a strapless dress that complimented her good looks. The dark hair came down and the glasses were gone and she went from librarian to a keeper. Even Bob was shocked at the transformation. She was both hot and hopefully hot to trot.
It’s hard to believe knowing the person that I am now was able to be that entertaining then, but I chatted her up over cocktails and a bottle of wine. Bob is enjoying an upgraded dinner and we both thought that would be it. It turned out that Mary was a very smart girl. We had an intellectually stimulating conversation both ways. I learned a lot about the machinations of how things got done as well as life in Vegas. She had a brain to go with the rest of the package. Maybe that is why she gave others a hard time.
I was the only one at CORE authorized to people out to dinner above the expense rate other than the el cheapo boss, but only if I was taking out important people or reporters. Bob didn’t say anything because he got a way more than the expense approved dinner, and I invited what was now a hottie to dinner. I’m sure I filed that expense report to the head accountant Tony (sounds Mafia also) that might have not been exactly accurate.
At the end of dinner, Bob excused himself to go to the bathroom before leaving and I figured what the hell. The odds were against anything else really happening between Mary and I, and I really didn’t care. We were on our way to being drunk and I’ll never see her again, plus I have to deal with sharing a room with Bob. I made the first base move anyway. The next thing I knew, Bob came out of the bathroom to see Mary and me tongue deep in the middle of the restaurant.
I now have the dilemma of the where to go logistics. I’m sure Bob’s wife didn’t want to hear about Mary and me slobbering on each other all night long and I’ve got the stingy accountants hanging over my head about spending money for extra rooms in Vegas.
I knew that once everyone came into town in a couple of days, that I’d be moving into the single room. I’d pre-arraigned to have the prerequisite odd count of people enabling me to have the single, but expense policies required us to save the penny pinching company owner money prior to that.
My judgement is now sufficiently impaired by alcohol and my hormones were raging by, so I said fuck it. Next thing I knew, I had Mary in tow and stood in line at the hotel lobby and charged a single room to the company credit card. President Hal and VP Robert A were going to shit when they saw my expense report already as I’m down a dinner way over the per diem by 3 or 4 times. I now add a room that I wasn’t supposed to be charged for 2 more days. Those two dicked around the employees so I wasn’t motivated to help them in any way. I was thinking with the little head by then, so the night progressed and we said goodbye to Bob.
I wonder what Mary was thinking. Her day started with a boring job of grilling show people about filling out the forms for electricity. She’s now out to dinner with a charming stranger and about to go back to a hotel room with someone she’s known for a couple of hours who called her a bitch.
In my head, I’m playing We’ve Got Tonight By Bob Seger. It was the part that goes:
I know it’s late I know you’re weary I know your plans don’t include me Still here we are Both of us lonely Longing for shelter from all that we see Why should we worry? No one will care girl Look at the stars so far away We’ve got tonight Who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight babe Why don’t you stay?
As I mentioned, I’d been around the dating block by now and knew how to game girls. I’d been pulling ass for a long time and it wasn’t like I was trying to lose my virginity. We checked into the hotel and had another heavy make out session when Mary excused herself to go to the bathroom.
The night is ticking away, I’m drunk and realize I have another long day tomorrow. I knew Mary had to show up at the contractors desk early. I decided right then that I wasn’t going to try hard because if was going to happen, fine…if not, also fine.
While she’s in the bathroom, I’m thinking of how I’m going to say goodbye and I had a nice time after getting told no, then catching some shut eye. I’d had about as much fun as I figured I was going to have and didn’t have a lot of patience to wait all night for nothing. I’d done enough of that growing up and rejection was going to be as good as success. The outcomes were equal to me.
Just about that time, Mary comes out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. As I started back to kissing her, it fell down and she said, we’ve got to get you out of these clothes.
One thing led to another and we did what grownups do in the prime of your life, for a long time, all over the hotel room. She enjoyed it immensely, which I found out later. I did my best John Holmes impression to make it worth her while. She said she visited the big O hall of fame multiple times. It was our first night so we hadn’t been together long enough for her to lie about it yet. I had put so much effort into it that night to make her happy that I’d passed out and she went home.
When I woke up the next morning, on the mirror I found a post it note to call for round 2 as she wanted more. Comdex hadn’t even started and my trip has already been eventful.
I glided by the contractor table the next morning and the attitude was much nicer. It turns out that all she needed was a good time and to get laid. It was on for us now.
I didn’t say anything to Bob. He’d seen me sucking face and I didn’t come home last night.
I enjoyed the week with Mary. She didn’t have to work during the show, unlike the 12 hour days on my feet. She was a good sport about showing up to see me at the end of the day. It was nice to share time together and got me the hell away from the CORE douchebags. One of the days when I was coming back from the show, I met her in the lobby and we immediately dumped the rest and headed up to my room. I’d walked back to the hotel with Bill Quinn, a serious stiff who knew I was his only key to after show entertainment. He was lost without me getting him or the others into the show parties. He kept asking what happened as he saw me meet and leave with a girl in the elevator. He wouldn’t see me again until the next morning. He told me he wanted details, but I gave up nothing.
TECH WEENIES TRYING TO ACT HIP
I refused to hang with most of the CORE people I had to work with as they were too lame to be around. Case in point, one of the nights there, I had to invite them to a computer magazine party, because the owner Hal was there. I picked the one that was the shortest to end my pain with them. I was going to the real party after that. I must have had that night off from Mary. Duty calls.
The DJ played the song Shout (Otis Day and The Nights for Animal House Fans). These losers called it the CORE song and went to the dance floor to look like fools. This included needle dick, canyon cooter and Sondra Arken (who got nicknamed Barkin as she was an ugly feminist with an ugly attitude who refused to shave her legs and pits). Also acting the fool were some people I’d come over to CORE with when General Micro Computer went chapter 11 like Trish Brainard, Holly H., Susan (Suzy Q, the JAP with the huge ta ta’s). They were such idiots that everyone from GMC except me got fired shortly after this for being incompetent. I pretended to go up with them as we left for the dance floor, but diverted to the men’s room to hide as I refused to be seen with them. I don’t think it was lost on them.
Here’s the deal. I was the president of my fraternity when Animal House came out. We’d already done everything in the movie other than kill a horse. We’d had a real toga party when listening to Shout. The CORE pussies were nursing a light beer. When I was in college, we were drinking grain alcohol punch dressed in sheets. There is a difference. They were embarrassing as they were trying to act hip, but at best pulled off a broken hip. There were a lot of losers in the computer industry and some of them worked with me.
I dumped them after that and went either to see Mary or to the real after party. They never knew.
THE GEEKS LOSE THEIR VIRGINITY
So I’m being very discrete about my encounter with Mary. Even when seen, no one knew what I was really doing. Bob the tech didn’t tell everyone there about the night prior to the show…….As opposed to this next part.
In the background, Canyon Cooter has made her move on needle dick who’s never seen a boob in his life, much less hold one. They now show up to the booth in matching outfits. She was getting divorced was old enough to be his mom. They dressed like sherbet Ice cream in their matching lime green and orange suits. When you fuck around at work, at least don’t advertise it by making a fool of yourselves. He never had a chance as she pretty much adopted him. They looked like a kid and his mom in a gag worthy moment. It was the only pussy he would ever had in life at and that statement is pretty sad. He wanted her to show him how to talk to a girl at work he couldn’t get a date with, and the next thing you know they are bumping uglies.
When you score your first touchdown, act like you’ve been there. He was a trained puppy on a leash from then on following her around. They were saying nothing was happening, but were so bad at hiding it we couldn’t avoid the obvious. It was as bad as having to hear about your parents having sex, freaking disgusting for all of us.
I on the other hand am having a grand time with a hot girl and giving her the ride of her life while telling no one. Here’s how I know. When I left Vegas after the show was over, she looked me up in Florida to try and find me for more (no internet back then so it was a big effort). It turns out that I am a namesake and she wound up calling my parents in another town, also in Florida. I thought it was a nice gesture and Mom had to know what was going on. She wasn’t born yesterday.
All good things come to an end and it was time to leave Vegas and go home. I have no need to go back to that town other than for computer shows so I knew it this was ever only going to be a week. I hate Vegas despite the time with Mary. I never promised anything to her other than when I was there. I never led her on. It was what it was. She had the next show rolling into town the following week (the Car Show). It just didn’t have a future written on it.
I recall our last moment together. She finished on top and I was staring at her right boob. I thought to myself, I need to remember this moment for when I was in a dry spell.
Life goes on. Needle dick wound up marrying canyon cooter. Ben Greene told us all that the bill would come due when she turned 80. He’s probably changing diapers now. I saw the disappointment on his father’s face at the wedding. He married his mother, a washed up flabby old lady. At least they didn’t reproduce. The world is better for it.
Bob left CORE and went to Novell, then the Networking leader. Hal sold the company to Sony after lying about the contract he had with IBM. Robert came out of the closet and was queer as a 3 dollar bill, but he was a prick to everyone anyway. I filed the expense report and I think I went over by so much that El Capo, Tony wouldn’t approve all of it. I made it all back on the next expense report. CORE went out of their way to screw over the employees. The per deim wasn’t enough for one meal, let alone 3 per day in Vegas. I never tried to come out ahead, but they wound up paying for everything on the next trip. We ended up even.
I still had to work with the other wieners who rarely got any girl action. Despite the stories that got told about my escapades, I would never admit it because I didn’t need to spike the ball. I never told them this story either, until now. Bob told them enough when we got back that I got the stink eye from the engineering and tech support departments. Most of them were still 0 for life in girls when I left.
Mary and I never spoke again. By the time I found out from Mom that she’d called, months had already passed. I hope she remembers it fondly. I guess I’m the one that got away. I would have picked her over my milk toast girlfriend. She was better in every way.
Life moved on, but times like this are burned into my memory bank. A version of this story would happen to me again at future computer shows, more than once and different countries.
I have fun memories of that week, it’s just that we lived on opposite sides of the country and what happened in Vegas like most times, stayed there.
I can hear it now. Tell everyone three things about yourself
Compounding it would be a networking event. Dear God, why do they put is through that.
I’ve never remembered anything that someone told about themselves, even if it was extremely clever, which some have been. They won’t remember about me either.
When will the world stop trying to fit everyone into the same box. I hate this exercise and avoid groups to just not have to go through it.
At least have the courtesy to say you don’t have to go through this if it offends you. No one cares about our feelings and being put on the spot is as bad as it gets sometimes.
Extroverts love this as they get the rush of dopamine when they can talk about themselves to others. I don’t think they really care what I or they say, so why do we have to do this?
My mom told me I had to stick with my family and put up with gatherings because they are blood. She was right on most things in life, but not this one.
I look at them like I look at most people. If we were friends or wanted to see each other, we’d get together. Now, it’s just weddings and funerals, and I avoid those if possible. I missed the last one that made me the patriarch of both sides of the family now. That’s not a burden I relish or will give any attention too.
Besides avoiding both sides of my family whenever possible, my wife’s family doesn’t live in my country, so I have it easy there. They sit around and trash the US to feel morally superior so I don’t want to be a part of that.
Best of all, I stopped drinking a while back. Most of them drink a lot when they are together, so I don’t get invited to almost everything. I think I make them feel uncomfortable. They are happier to be around people who drink a lot without feeling guilty. I don’t get invited and it’s one of life’s blessings.
I treat others like they treat me. Fortunately, most of them don’t want to talk and I keep my head as low as possible so I don’t get in their line of fire.
Still, leaving is always my favorite part of getting together, family or otherwise.
The world and the media and especially Social Media is trying to tell you how to live, what to say, what is politically correct and so forth. It’s so much shit that you don’t know which way to turn.
I’m finding that staying to myself makes it easier. I don’t have to fit into the world’s definitions of what I should be doing instead of what I want to do. It used to be a lot easier before the Karen’s and Chad’s tried to build their power base by judging others. I got fed up enough of that crap with the high school childish games we suffered through.
I decided to grow up and make my own rules. It’s because I’m an introvert and didn’t do stuff like get the Covid Jab. I’m not as accepted for what I believe, but like Groucho Marx said, I’d never belong to a club that would have me as a member. It’s made my life a lot easier.
This is the way they want you to behave on social media now. I had to eliminate that to not drive myself nuts. I got the added benefit of not having to find out what others did to try and make themselves feel better when they got likes. My favorite benefit was re-losing people I was able to move on earlier in life. They found me on social media, but I already removed them once for a reason.
The way I looked at it, if I wanted to stay connected (or we wanted to together) we would have. Not for likes. I guess I just don’t care enough what they did after we parted ways all those years ago. I got to lose family that made life difficult also.
I get some love to reconnect and rehash things, but I already did that in my private journal. If it was that good, I wouldn’t need social media to see what they ate or drank while doing stuff I didn’t care about.
This version of non English is how social media is. Almost non-sequitur.
With all the bullshit with the lying about the politicians and covering up by the media, if I get too involved with it, this happens to me
I can always revert to my introverted life and spend time alone with my thoughts and pets. That way people aren’t ruining my life as much.
“Roll down the window.” Cars have had automatic windows for ages, making the manual rolling down of windows a thing of the past. I still say this, though, in my 1964 Mustang.
“Check the answering machine.” Voicemail on cellphones has obliterated the need for a physical answering machine. I think it’s super interesting Apple’s iOS 17 lets you listen while someone leaves a voicemail so you can decide to pick up. New? Hardly.
“Dial 411.” My mother designed the 411 directory system for Bell Labs. Now, just look someone up online and you have their digits.
“Beep me.” Pagers were all the rage once upon a time. Today, they’re used almost exclusively in healthcare or other specific industries.
“I’ll tape it.” You no longer “tape” shows with DVR and streaming services. You just hit “Record” on your device or catch it later on demand.
“Rewind” or “Fast-forward.” These phrases made perfect sense for cassettes and VHS tapes, and, yes, we still use them metaphorically, but you’re not actually winding anything.
“I need to find a payphone.” My dad used to make me carry a quarter just in case I needed to make a call. With a cellphone in nearly everyone’s pocket, payphones have become an urban relic.
“Get the film developed” or “Don’t waste the film.” Oh, the good old days of waiting to see a picture you looked horrible in. Digital cameras and smartphones have done away with this.
“Look it up in the White (or Yellow) Pages.” Online directories have replaced those hefty books.
“I’ll fax it to you.” Fax machines are just about dead. Warren Buffett once told me that’s the only way he’ll do contracts. Why? No one can hack a fax machine, unlike email.
I was listening to Steely Dan play My Old School, one of my theme songs. Click on it, it’s a great song.
I realized I went to school to grow up in life, not really to learn. I went to classes and did did stuff, but it was just a step in life I had to take first. My real education was when I got out and started in life. School was just learning how to learn, mostly what not to do. Life is a big picture that I saw. I knew I had to get through this time and had a need to have my success being in life, not following the crowd in my teens. I watched the cliques and instinctively knew I didn’t want to be held hostage by them. Even then, I just knew I was going to be a bigger success and do much more than any of them. Other than a few sports stars and a doctor here and there, it came true. It’s not really important to me as I expected it. It’s because I didn’t pin my identity to that time of my life.
Most of all, I didn’t get stuck in my hometown and got away from those who stayed in the mud pit of mediocrity.
I know some people never leave college and re-live school every Friday night or Saturday during football season, but I am fortunate to have Mauerbauertraurigheit. I never wanted to be a part of what they were. Maybe it was just the introvert in me coming out, but I moved on and the memories weren’t strong enough to make me long for that, ever.
I went to school with some people from kindergarten through the end of college, yet I never think of them as friends. Just going to the same school isn’t the basis for a relationship. I never wanted to be in their clubs or fraternity’s, even when I had the chance. They weren’t the type of people I wanted to be a part of. At a college party one time I told Brad Hurd, who I knew since kindergarten that my best life decision until then was not pledging his fraternity. It was just the same elementary, middle school and high school people that I instinctively knew weren’t going to be significant, or my friends.
I also remember college graduation. I thought to myself, I may never step foot back on this campus and 43 years later, I never have. I’d had enough of college life and wanted to grow up and experience new and different things. People I knew still get together and pretend they are still there, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It was a chapter in my life that has closed. Life expanded so much for me after I got out that I feel no connection with the people anymore.
I still have friends from that time, but it had nothing to do with school. We are friends because of our relationship, mutual interests and experiences in life.
So, like the song, I’m never going back to my old school. I’ve passed up the 10th, 20th, 25th, 30th and 40th high school reunions so far, and have no plans to ever do it again.
I always thought that my life was going to happen after I left school, and it did. Those I went to school with act like they never left. Their pinnacle in life was either high school or college. They are like Al Bundy, high school football star, but loser in life. They relive the past at a time we were juveniles. I saw much more than that. Being a part of it wasn’t something I ever wanted to do.
On LinkedIn, I don’t even list my university. Instead I use Faber College, Knowledge is good.
Occasionally, I hear about someone from that time. Almost to a person, they didn’t amount to not much past that time of life. I hope they enjoyed their moment in the limelight, but it’s too bad that it came so early in life. When I see the pictures, they faded into old looking people who fell out of shape or didn’t realize their dreams. It’s sad. I wish they could have seen the big picture that what seems important to teenagers is not.
When I think about why, it was the people that I wanted away from, not the school. I continue to have highlights in life, rather than re-live an immature time of my life.
I’m never going back, to my old…..school, because I grew up to so much more.
This post has sex and booze in it, read it later in the post.
Since I graduated with both Accounting and Marketing degree’s, I tried to find a job in one of those fields. I finished college before they had the internet, so you couldn’t look up jobs on LinkedIn or on online. We did actual networking back then.
I had friends who got me interviews where they worked, and I accepted a job in the finance trainee program at Burdines Department Stores. Here is the building I worked at in downtown Miami. Count 4 floors up and that would be me.
The program was 4 six month shifts in different departments (where they needed a slave to hump some work it seemed).
I have no idea why or what I was doing in finance. I really majored in Animal House activities and going to the Beach instead of class. I knew debit was on the left, but even I wouldn’t have trusted me at the time with balancing a checkbook.
Anyway…..
My 2nd rotation in the Statistical department was working on the Departmental Operating Statement (DOS). It was a financial statement that reported on the profit and loss of every department in every store, so 256 departments x 26 stores x 18 expense categories. It was as dreary as that sentence sounds
While not a published financial statement, it was how the department managers in each store got rated. That is far too much responsibility for someone who drank and got high often enough to fail any drug test, at work.
The DOS was a manual masturbation exercise that had to balance to the expenses for the year and show the profitability (or loss) of each department and store. This will be key in the story that follows.
While working on this, we were automating it to an IBM System 34 (now the System P), again pre-PC days. It even had 8 inch floppy diskettes for storage.
Burdines was owned by Federated Department Stores, who also owned Bloomingdales, Filene’s, Foley’s, A & S, and a number of other stores. This part is important. Never once was the DOS turned in on time by Burdines to Federated. The other divisions were on time and it was a sore spot for the finance guys.
Statistical made sure the DOS balanced to the penny manually. It also meant it would never be on time. During this period, I found that I had an affinity for computers. I was one of the few that understood how they worked and mainly focused on that. When you can run something others are afraid of, and it is vital to getting the job done, it’s like playing cards with a stacked deck. I got that concept right away. The computer would crank out a report in about 30 minutes in those days which would have taken weeks to do manually.
We worked days and nights to get it finished. While the computer was calculating, we were writing programs (in RPG II). We also fucked off and messed with the other employees desk’s who were a pain (Art Goldstein, still in Expense Control). We were putting cigarette ashes under his desk pad, all kinds of shit in his desk and unrolling his calculator (no PC’s) and printing a lot of gibberish on it, then rolling the tape back up for him to find days later. He’d have to redo the tabulation as you had to attach a tape to your work. It cost him hours at work. No one said a thing the next day when he lost it. We just shrugged. Everyone knew it was us that worked late. We also ordered in pizza and beers and left drunk many nights. There was worse stuff we did with the pizza’s, but that’s another story.
I thought accountants were stiffs, but these guys could put a way scotch until they were pickled. It was like working with John Hamm, only at night.
Since these were the Madmen days when you could drink at work, we got beers and take out food from the Cuban restaurants since it was in downtown Miami. You could also fuck around at work without the #metoo bullshit that has ruined a lot of good office sex.
Needless to say, we got it finished, but not on time to Federated during my trainee rotation. I wasn’t a full employee yet, so I didn’t care. I had fun messing around and seeing how things worked. They balanced it as it was done at the same time manually, so it had to tie out. That little detail cost weeks of work to be that exact. I learned everything I could about the computer and started to see it as my ticket to life.
NOW, MY FIRST JOB
I was moved on to the Credit department for my 3rd rotation, where I thought I was going to die from boredom until they got my ass out of there early. I was questioning my career decision at this point. The most I learned there was about mopering (you’re going to have to ask a NY cop what this is).
Since I’d made the System 34 sing and dance, they promoted me back to Statistical (I called it sta-testicle) in charge of the DOS this time and told me I had to have it in on time (or pretty much be fired). I didn’t have an option to decline it having already done one round of this financial statement. Hell, it was a promotion and doing something I saw as a career was way better than wanting to shoot myself while I did pretty much jack shit in Credit.
This is where the fun begins.
I was now responsible for people and the ratings of thousands of people. All the other employees who worked on it from before had only done the manual version. I was the only one who could work the System 34. While it was a mystery to them on the computer, the sharp eyed finance people could make any financial statement balance with paper, pencil and calculator. These (mostly) girls would sit at their desk and crank out calculations all day, and only leave to go to break (this will be important later).
One of them, my 2nd in command, Carmen Gomez had huge boobs. I’d love to sit with her while we she figured out numbers as she’d plant those babies on my arms at the desk for minutes at a time. I couldn’t have cared less about balancing the numbers. That was her problem. This is the only time I’d sit still for more than 10 minutes. There is no way she didn’t know she was doing this and I was a walking hormone at 22. I didn’t move until she finished as they were the biggest tits I’d been near my whole life.
During my first stint on the DOS, I heard someone say as a joke that you could spread any expense overages like peanut butter over all the departments and no one would notice. It was like when I heard that you could kill a hangover with the hair of the dog. I tucked that nugget away and it would serve me well later.
Here’s where I skip the boring parts where I worked 6 days a week from 8 in the morning to sometimes 11 at night. The only part that matters is that I was alone at night this time.
What is important is that I’m in charge of the computer as I’m the only one who can make it work. I’m alone at night when the computer is crunching and I can see the reports first. They had stopped the manual version so there was no number detail that I had to balance to, just the final expense per category.
Besides drinking, here’s the other Madmen stuff. I now have finance trainee’s working for me doing what I did. In this case they were also girls. There was no hanky panky during the work day, but stay tuned, there will be.
My desk wasn’t in the computer room, so I’d have to run back and forth between the two (me not sitting still, except at Carmen’s desk). I’d pass by the controller’s office. I found out later he was worried about what I was doing because I was never at my desk hammering the calculator like the rest of the robots. His name was Bob Dillon and was about 5’6″, so we nicknamed him shorty. Even Carmen, who was a stiff would come to laugh at that one. His pants were never wrinkled, so we wondered if he took them off to sit down.
When the day workers went home, I put my magic to work. I understood real clear the part about getting it done on time. I also understood the peanut butter reference. I couldn’t balance this thing with scales from NASA, so I gave in quickly to spreading any leftover money to everyone. They each took a few dollars hit and wouldn’t know anyway so what did I care? Since we were fully automated now, they didn’t have a manual version to compare it with, so I was the only one who understood this little secret. They just knew that I was on time and delivered reports every morning.
SOME MORE MADMEN STUFF
As I mentioned, it was my turn to have trainee’s working on the statement. Burdines hired college students by the busload, mostly girls on the marketing side to buy and promote mostly high end merchandise. I got used to the assistant buyers lasting about 6 months and being recycled for new grads. It was like feeding time at the crocodile pit at the zoo when they brought the trainees in. I went out with a million of them, all with bad intentions. This was the Miami Vice time of life so being single in Miami was a time you could live like the Playboy Mansion, and we did. We’d have new stories every week and the girls were in on it too at this time. No one reported anyone to HR for hanky panky with the co-workers or playing grab ass in the hallways. The girls thought it was great and grabbed back. I got picked up one time by the fragrance girl who would spray you with cologne as you went down the escalator. This was before the Karen’s who ruin everything were born.
My trainee on the DOS though was Terri. A 6 foot girl with an attitude that said I could drink with any of you and still get to work. I was busy with the assistant buyers while she worked for me, so I kept it professional during the intense DOS time.
Remember, I had to have it on time and I knew it’s integrity wasn’t going to get in my way.
I missed a lot of life over those months, and a lot of beach time on Saturday. No one could question my commitment to getting it done, although my work ethics might have been somewhat iffy.
After busting ass over many months with many working parts, I sat alone those many nights running programs and printing thousands of pages of reports. They balanced every time because because I forced it. I was about getting it finished on time and not letting shorty know what was going on.
SHENANIGANS
Needless to say, I got it done. It was the first time Burdines was ever on time with the DOS to Federated headquarters. I knew that it was close enough to being mostly representative of what went on (and exact in some places like payroll because Carmen did that one) so I met my personal challenges and my goals at my review. I was a star in the minds of the big shots. Even shorty was happy, although he never knew the shortcuts I took.
On the day we finished, we decided to celebrate by going out to Joe’s Stone Crabs for dinner. The whole crew went (not Carmen, fortunately). The professional drinkers were on display and I was recently out of college in an Animal House fraternity, so I was more than 10 Heineken’s down by the end of dinner.
I told Terri that I was ready to go after a while and I think she wanted me to drive her home. My original intentions weren’t lascivious, but as we drove by Miami International Airport on 836, I decided to throw a trial balloon. I said how about a version of the submarine races? This involved watching planes taking off, with me taking off as much of her clothes as fast as I could.
As I said, she was a good sport. She acted like one of the guys, and no one hit on her during the DOS, so I figured she was ready for action (and many beers down herself). As for looks, I was the best she could hope for and I’d been pulling ass from assistant buyers well out of her league (and she knew it). I was on a recent breakup and ready for a rebound that was meaningless, but hopefully meaningful memory wise.
I also knew she was done in statistical and was moving to her next assignment, so what the hell. She didn’t work for me anymore.
I found what I thought was a private place and parked. I made my move quickly as I figured we were drunk and if I got any push back, I’d just go home. I wasn’t going to try that hard. Well, she was in on the plan and probably hadn’t gotten any since college so her shirt was unbuttoned in no time. I’d had a steady college girlfriend who had the same bra that unsnapped in the front. I had it undone faster than Fonzie from Happy Days, to which her surprised response was wow, you did that well. I said I’d done it before, so she knew she was going to have a ride that night. Let the rodeo begin.
One thing led to another and an hour later we were still going at it. She had a big boat of Mercury with a huge bench seat in the front, so there was plenty of room for her tallness. We were at it from every way you could in a car. The windows in the car were fogged by now.
I thought I’d found a nice sequestered place, but in my drunkenness, I’d parked under a window at the 94th Aero Squadron restaurant. That is the chain at airports that has big windows for watching planes take off and land. They got the show of the century. No one watched the planes that night. Here’s an actual picture of the view at that restaurant. We were right parked right below this.
When we were done, we went home to my apartment for another round. The next morning, I woke up with morning wood and her hand stroking my Johnson. We still had to work (on a Saturday) to clean up records and get it published. Both of us acted like it was just another day, but later I heard she spread the word that I was an animal that night, so it garnered interest from a number of young unsuspecting trainee’s that I wouldn’t otherwise have had a shot at. After we’d both moved on, I’d call her up for beers and sex with no commitment and were friends with benefits.
She even signed my going away card with a reference to watching the planes take off.
Needless to say, the DOS was done on time. I asked and received a transfer to Data Processing to start the PC program, which would start me on my real career in all things personal computing, cloud, networking, PR and AR.
I still got high at work with the internal auditors and did a great job, but moved on from Burdines with an education in how to prioritize things to get the job done, in many aspects of life.
Those were the good days before HR and woke busybodies ruined all the fun. I’d have been fired for any of that stuff today. It’s a damn good thing I retired.
Novak Djokovic was willing to sacrifice being the all time majors winning record holder for his health. I’ll pull for him at the US Open and other tournaments for sticking to his principles and not getting jabbed.
Aaron Rodgers wouldn’t get jabbed either, and proved it wouldn’t stop him by only missing one game when he got Covid.
Joe Rogan pissed off Big Pharma, Big Government and the other Covid commies by taking Ivermectin, HCQ, mono-clonal antibodies and beating it in 3 days.
Look at this Instagram post by Rodgers, pranking Moderna and praising another warrior.
Not a single person who didn’t get jabbed regrets it.
In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own; for men in general are very much alike, and though one has one prevailing passion, and another has another, yet their operations are much the same; and whatever engages or disgusts, pleases, or offends you in others will engage, disgust, please or offend others in you.”
And this one for introverts
“Silence and reserve suggest latent power. What some men think has more effect than what others say.”
I’m not able to process the attention that others force on you. To me, it’s just another day and I wish others would treat it that way. I want to crawl in a hole and not come out until it is over.
When I was a waiter, we’d sing the song to the birthday person. Almost always, a drunk table nearby would want it and would ask for us to sing it to them. One time, a party was so belligerent about it, instead of Happy Birthday dear (name), we sang eat a big one you asshole, HBTY.
Back to the point. I never understood why it was such a big deal. I didn’t know it was OK to hate your birthday until I talked to other introverts. It was painful for years. When I found out you didn’t have to suffer through this, I got my family to swear they’d never put me through the fake festivities again.
I think parents are so overboard on their children’s birthdays that they set this false expectation that it’s a real holiday. It was painful for me and I never knew how to act. The kids come to count on it like it is going to make them happier because they got stuff.
The extroverts in my family expect the attention, but it’s difficult for me to sit through that also. I want that to be over as much as when it happens to me.
In my life, charade has taken over any holiday. People get worked up and claim they are happy because of a day that is supposed to be celebrated. I’ve grown to loathe big family gatherings and the month long Christmas ordeal. I see how unhappy they can be. It’s because people set themselves up for false expectations that some holiday or gathering is supposed to make them feel better. Take away their alcohol and it’s a whole different thing.
I can’t buy that nonsense as there are other days in the year that make me happier, but it is organic rather than manufactured. I can even take (a small amount) some celebrations if spontaneous and real.
At this end of my life, I don’t like having another birthday so fast. It just reminds me that that I’ll be crossing the checkered flag in life soon.
I watched people when I worked there called the thinkers. They didn’t do anything or contribute, yet didn’t get penalized so we called them thinkers. It’s sarcasm of course, but there was a lot of dead weight.
There was also FUMU, fuck up move up. They’d promote you or move you to another group if you were trouble or made mistakes.
No matter how many layoffs they have, you can still get lost in the system and not work much while getting a paycheck. You can keep your job despite being incompetent.
The other thing is to brown nose in the office headquarters in New York. While there was considerable backstabbing there, you had an advantage over remote office employees. They were allowed an extra grade of incompetence for being inside the curtain of prejudice in the headquarters. The ratings at review time were better if you worked at the club.
They had some of the most brilliant people, there were others who made me question how they kept the doors open some days.
Hell, half the pressure is stuff we put on ourselves, but then so is half of the enjoyment of pulling it off.
(From the link above)
Men are in competition with each other. Men vie to express dominance, to establish their place in the pecking order.
If a man steps out of line, and assumes a place in the pecking order that is not agreed upon – this place being based upon established social agreements that no one can see, nor express in words – he is summarily dismissed.
If he still believes the territory, he has assumed, is rightfully his, he will endure all manner of insults and attacks, up to, and including, physical attacks
This begins for boys some time just after the toddler stage, and intensifies through the teen years, and early adulthood.
Men find this competition exhilarating, though it is also challenging, and often ends in shocking defeats.
WE MAKE UP GAMES TO COMPETE, EVEN WITH OURSELVES.
See the meme above. One of the unwritten rules for guys is you have to (at least try) to get all the shopping bags in one trip.
Next, we can’t just throw away a wad of paper if there is a hoop to make. Back up and see how far you can be before you miss. Add difficulty by changing hands or twice in a row. Hell, I toss ice cubes that fell on the floor behind my back into the sink. Putting them there would be too easy, or conversely not enough of a challenge.
I told my son this one. You have to open the garage door as far as possible when driving up. You need to know the range in case of (imagined) attack, or whatever. Never can you wait in the driveway while the door is opening.
You have to park in the spot first time. To add difficulty, back in. The ultimate challenge is parallel parking uphill on the wrong side of the street while driving stick shift with people in your car to judge you. It has to be done the first try. (I’ve done it).
Back in my dating years, I had a one with a girl named Shayna who basically picked me up at the Cricket Club in Miami. The next morning I caught shit for not cooking her eggs runny. I knew that was the end of that as soon as the words came out.
The moral of the story, don’t bitch or be a nag (she claimed she was being a JAP, whatever)
We didn’t text back then, but if we did, this was it.
Female sports teams have long had audience and viewership problems. 20 year old reruns draw more viewers than a WNBA game. Ladies soccer registers similar numbers. The stands at both are sparse at best.
It doesn’t help when they willfully trash the country the represent. Take Brittany Griner, who wouldn’t even be on the floor during the National Anthem. A few months in Russian prison changed her tune. We now see her standing without protesting. I guess she found out the hard way that the USA isn’t so bad.
This is the era of the ungrateful American celebrity. This is the time when some Americans pour contempt on their country – in front of the whole world. We now have ultra woke, anti-men, anti-hetero show offs they are not endearing themselves to anyone.
I’ve got news for these brats. Nobody loves a traitor or a whiner. It’s no wonder no one watches your games, either in person or on TV.
The Post added, “Only five of the 11 players who stood on the field for the anthem – with young, aspiring players standing before them – placed their hands over their hearts, while their six teammates kept their digits clasped behind their backs, video shows.”
They are lucky to have it so good to be in the spotlight. It’s not even that great of a sport in America.
Who told them they had it so bad that they can’t be bothered to sing The National Anthem?
On Friday, the U.S. women’s national soccer team opened the 2023 Women’s World Cup in controversial fashion. Prior to their 3-0 victory over Vietnam, the majority of U.S. players neither sang nor placed hands over their hearts during “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
This is the era of the ungrateful American. This is the time when some Americans pour contempt on their country – even before the whole world.
For example, last week, at the opening of the World Cup of women’s soccer in Vietnam, all the Vietnamese players showed their pride for their country. But, as the New York Post notes, “Most members of the US women’s soccer team stayed silent during the national anthem.”
Meagan Rapinoe poisoned the team against America.
On Monday’s episode of “The Megyn Kelly Show” on YouTube, Kelly and two of her guests expressed both outrage and dismay.
The players’ failure to show any outward sign of respect angered Kelly more than anything.
“That was a bridge too far. They couldn’t be bothered to actually place their hand on their heart,” she said.
— NBC Olympics & Paralympics (@NBCOlympics) July 29, 2023
I can’t wait to watch her swim, win and represent our country.
Nothing makes me more proud than America’s finest up on the podium after defeating the best in the world with the National Anthem playing and them singing. The country will stand behind people like that.
Hell, I even buy the products from her sponsor because she represents them so well.
When it comes to who I and others respect, you can forget about me watching or even thinking about girls soccer.
Count on me taping and watching Katy showing respect and properly representing our country as a decent person and a proud American.
One could say that the soccer and basketball teams are like softball (look it up if you don’t get it). They hate everything that doesn’t celebrate their lifestyle.
How about if we don’t care what you do in your bedroom, just don’t force it on us. Make us proud of our country by representing us as Americans instead of your predilections. Perhaps we’d be more likely to attend or tune in to your games.
A Russian vegan influencer with millions of followers on social media recently “died of starvation” at the age of 39 in Malaysia, the New York Post reported.
For the past four years, Zhanna Samsonova, known as Zhanna D’Art, adhered to a “completely raw vegan diet,” primarily consisting of “fruits, sunflower seed sprouts, fruit smoothies and juices,” according to the New York Post.
The influencer drew inspiration from observing her peers’ unhealthy lifestyles, which prompted Zhanna to embrace a strict raw foods regimen, the outlet reported.
The social media star used her platforms to propagate her vegan food philosophy, declaring, “I love my new me, and never move on to the habits that I used to use,” the outlet noted.
Despite efforts to persuade Zhanna to seek medical assistance for her unwavering dietary habits and severe malnutrition, “she didn’t make it.” the outlet noted. One friend, who “lived one floor above her,” constantly “feared finding her lifeless body in the morning,” per the Post.
While Zhanna’s mother has publicly linked her death to a “cholera-like infection,” the official cause remains undisclosed, per the Post.
A strict vegan diet can present numerous deficiencies in essential nutrients like calcium, Vitamin D, and Vitamin B12, per the Post. In a recently published study, all participants following a raw vegan diet consumed less than the recommended 2.4 mcg of Vitamin B12 per day, according to the Journal of Nutrition.
Ultimately, one friend confessed, “Zhanna’s idle stagnation was causing her to melt before our eyes, but she believed everything was fine,” the outlet reported.
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Sensitivities expressed by the administrators in the interest of underperforming students does not appear to extend to parents of the more accomplished students. Parents objecting to the “dumbed-down” curriculum have been subject to slurs and insults by faculty and administrators: “Racist” is a common fallback term used by administrators to label parents objecting to the “equity initiatives.” At one school board meeting in another district, Asian parents were met with a sign that read: “Leave your Asian privilege at the door.”
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Delusions of Adequacy 