RSS

Monthly Archives: May 2015

A rose by any other name, is still just a dirty blog.

“TWO HOUSEHOLDS, both alike in dignity,

In fair Starbucks, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes barrista hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,

A pair of star-cross’d barristas risk their jobs”

Something like that.

Tears in my eyes as I write this. Its so touching, so beautiful and yet, doomed to failure.

I see them in the distance, a couple, late 20’s, beach people, holding each other, middle of the block.

Its a lovely scene.

And then I get closer.

And I see their shirts.

“Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf” (Think Capulet)

“Starbucks” (See also Montague.)

Barristas from opposing houses.

Doomed to a love that is forbidden.

I pass them and they are silent, no doubt the pain of their situation has driven them to silence.

Or, he was talking dirty and didn’t want me to hear, either one.

Eventually, as the story goes, the manager of Starbucks will find out and threaten to fire the barrista, and then someone get killed in a duel and then some of your better catch phrases happen.

“A plague on BOTH your lattes!”

And then, in the end, She will quit her job, planning to apply at Starbucks to be with him.

But, he doesn’t know that, so he will quit his job, thinking to work at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.

So he is heading up the street to Coffee bean, and she is heading down the street to Starbucks.

And then they see each other, and they both realize what happened.

BUT THAT IS NOT THE DEATH SCENE!

That happens when they go across the street and get jobs at Peets Coffee.

A seedy little coffee house of ill repute, inhabited by questionable reprobates like soccer moms and real estate agents.

THIS IS THE SUICIDE SCENE!

Yup, working at Peets is pure resume suicide.

No one in the history of the world has EVER read a resume and said, “Oh, you worked at Peets coffee, great!”

Its a resume stain for the service industry much like a dose of the clap, but harder to get rid of.

And I still cannot prove that their coffee is not heavily tea-bagged in the back room. (There is this flavor in the coffee, you know?)

So what is the moral of this tragic tale?

There are several.

  1. Peets Coffee is made by seedy unsupervised perverts.
  2. Starbucks and Coffee Bean coffees do NOT have plague virus in them. (Shout out to their lawyers. Please don’t hur my family.)
  3. When you are dealing with insomnia, haven’t slept more than 4 hours in 3 days and decide to watch the 1996 version of Romeo & Juliet (Leonardo Di Caprio and Clare Danes), do not, repeat, DO NOT, write a blog in the wee hours of the morning.

Because who knows what kind of shit you are going to put on the page.

Advertisements
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 29, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Your child MIGHT be the Anti-Christ

I weep for the future.

 

I feel like I am beating a dead horse here.

Like I am harping on the same damn thing, again and again.

So let me say this again, and I will try to be clear.

Beat some sense into your fucking kids.

Soon.

Please.

Maybe its the local.

Panera Bakery has decent coffee, despite how it is made.

They brew it in back and then bring out urns of it periodically.

There is always a vile suspicion in the back of my head that someone is teabagging this lukewarm swill in the back room before trotting it out for the public.

No way to be sure, but there is always a flavor I can’t identify and my paranoia screams “SCROTUM!” each and every time.

But I am not here to talk about the coffee.

I am here to piss and moan about Armageddon.

And it has a name.

That name is Crandall.

Crandall is only 7 and is already a world class fuck-tard.

That is an amazing feat for a 7 year old.

Say what you like about me being a rotten human being, but this will be the one who’s finger pushes the button that destroys us all.

How do I know this? I don’t, but it would not shock me at all.

First off, his family is rich.

Not that kind of rich that is trying to make the world a better place.

Or even that hiding in the shadows, anonymous kind of rich.

Even worse, they are that, its all beneath us, you motherfuckers are shit kind of rich.

Mom has not quit whining since they hit the door.

She is not happy to be here.

News flash you vile slag, none of us are happy your here either.

The husband is living his life thru the bluetooth growing out of his ear like a techo-goiter.

Apparently there are those at his office that cannot take a shit without talking to mister big.

So he is working, and practicing his golf swing with his mercedes smart key.

We get it asshole, you golf. How the fuck else would you be spending your worthless time?

Are we all on the same page here?

Good.

Now, lets meet Crandall.

Crandall is wearing little lord Fauntleroy short pants, a look that went out of style when FDR was wheeling his ass out of office.

There is a 1 inch circle around his mouth that is always wet, like he either lipped a jar of Vaseline in the parking lot or he has been licking his lips for the last hour non-stop.

His eyes travel independently of each other, much like an iguana or a koi fish. Its unsettling to say the least.

He lacks common sense and even basic depth perception, as evidenced by his walking full speed into the baked goods case.

A full five minutes passed and he was still thrashing on the ground, fully absorbed in his fit.

And that was when he farted, loudly, for the first time.

His parents ignored it for the first 3 minutes, then got into an argument over who is to blame.

They ordered, collected their vile offspring and looked over no less than 3 different tables that the wife nixed before settling at one.

I have never prayed for a terrorist attack on any public place that I was at but I would be ok with someone with a vest made out of c4 detonating at the front door if it meant keeping Crandall from attaining breeding age.

I once heard a drill sergeant scream that the best part of someone ended up as a brown stain on a mattress.

I get that now.

I am not saying Crandall is the anti-christ, I am only saying he MIGHT be.

I posted up across the room just to watch this macabre little freakshow for myself.

When the wife would stop talking, and trust me, it was not often, her face would scrunch up in a disdainful mew like someone had farted and she was trying to figure out who.

Just as that thought hit my brain, Crandall farted, or quite possibly shit himself for the first or second time.

The bark of laughter that escaped me scared the shit out of everyone.

I did my best to stop laughing, but that only made it worse.

I didn’t hide it, I just stared rudely and laughed my ass off.

They got their food to go.

It was awesome.

I was sad that I had ruined the show, but I was also thrilled that they were no longer here.

Once they were gone, a peace descended over the building.

The planets aligned.

A lasting peace came to all people.

Somewhere, an angel got his wings.

And all was right with the world.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 22, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

The End is Near, maybe.

I am the harbinger of doom, you’ve been warned.

To judge by the results, I have been breaking mirrors as I hit black cats to make them cross my path so that they can knock over the salt as we walk under a ladder.

The bad luck/shit karma storm seems to be endless.

Not for me mind you, but for everyone around me.

I exist in the eye of the shit storm.

And I feel bad mainly because Karma has been my bitch for a few weeks now.

But that is not what I am hear to talk about.

You all seem to hate the positive shit, you’ve proven that over and over.

The positive or uplifting post are among the least read.

The one’s that detail people held down by Fate and fisted by Karma?

Shit, you can’t get enough.

It boggles the mind and makes me feel bad.

Not to complain, but you do treat me like a whore.

No eye contact, just do your business and leave the page.

Leave the money on the dresser as you go.

So be it.

Why so cheerful today?

Ok, you asked for it, here is the roll call of crap.

This has all been related to me since I wrote last weeks blog:

  • I have had a half dozen people tell me about a close relative with a shitty prognosis involving cancer.
  • 3, count them 3, acquaintances have told me they are getting divorced.
  • 5 car accidents.
  • 1 cat rape involving an out of control horny bulldog. (Sorry, I laughed so hard at this one, I almost shit myself. The dog/cat owner has unfriended me on FB and will not return texts. Still funny.)
  • 2 people related having ED for the first time. (We are getting older, fellas. Its called Viagra, look into it.)
  • An old acquaintance’s child was sentenced to 20 years in prison. (Isn’t meth wonderful?)
  • I got a flat tire on my bike. (Really not much compared to the rest, but I SUCK at changing tubes. All about me.)
  • A married couple I know decided to spice up their bedroom activities and try some new things. They ended up in the ER later trying to get a string of beads out of her butt. (Pissing off people left and right today.)

It seems to be a time for keeping your head down.

Survival instinct kicks in and you learn to adapt and keep the shit stink from finding you.

So you don’t necessarily avoid people, but you are seeking out people either.

I know, that sounds mean, kind of because it is.

But I mean it in the nicest narcissistic way.

In the end, I look on the activities and things that have gone on in the last week as a cautionary tale of sorts.

But the moral of the story is this:

Be bold but be careful and if the bulldog of life looks your way?

Cover your ass.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on May 15, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sometimes you have to stop and ask yourself…

What the hell is wrong with people?

Today is a day filled with bad pick up lines.

The first one of the day caught me unaware, like a crisp slap across the face.

“A woman like you can stop a man in his tracks!”

This was said to a beautiful business blonde in a tailored suit.

This is a woman truly worth hitting on, and it was actually a decent pick up line.

So why didn’t it work?

I hate to be superficial, but the man who said it had no teeth.

The overwhelming stench of BO and urine did not help, I’m sure.

This woman was a rising star of the business world, you could tell from her demeanor.

If she hooked up with a homeless guy, in a classic “Differing class forbidden romance”, she would be ostracized.

The heart may want what it wants, but even the heart has to have some sort of sense, even if its not a sense of smell.

Plus, he would be hard to explain at parties.

Because nothing kills a young rising star in the business world like having to explain why your boyfriend is performing oral sex in the kitchen during a 4th quarter kick off party at the boss’s house.

Just saying.

But alas, our star crossed and pharmaceutically challenged lovers were destined never to be together.

She needed to get to work and he needed to go get high.

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

In a dead language that is inflicted on high school students like the clap, that phrase means The Glory of Man is Fleeting.

A loose interpretation could be to live for today.

Few people embrace old ideas like this.

They could throw caution to the wind and spend the next hour in the vacant lot nearby, seeing if the business woman’s shoes match the sky. (Wait for it, wait for it, BAM! You got it.)

But the fates are not kind to toothless men and fools.

To bad fate can’t get the homeless guy in a headlock and give him a quick shower, a flea dip and a serious delousing.

And pass the hat to get him a set of choppers.

Now, I told you that story to tell you this story.

I gave a homeless woman a 5 spot.

Not my usual thing, I know, I was shocked too.

But I spent my entire early morning chuckling about my evil observations about the big business/homeless Romeo and Juliet.

And it put me into one of those odd states of mind that I try to avoid when I am being vile.

It put me in a good mood.

And thats when she came rolling up.

The oldest 30 year old you have ever seen.

Life has regularly dragged this little honey out and beat her ass.

Well over several hundred thousand miles on this model, and those are all city miles.

There are missing teeth, but she was not so far gone that she had forgotten that.

“Got a dollar? Dollar for some food?” Almost like a chant, like she can’t even hear it herself.

My answer came out of my mouth from pure reflex.

“Don’t have any, sorry.” Cold, monotone, no eye contact. Cold son of a bitch.

She moved on.

And I felt bad.

It was a Grinch kind of moment and Whoville just started singing.

Shit.

I reached into my wallet and pulled out the first bill my fingers found.

Here is how out of character this is for me.

I am cheap, not a cool thing to admit, but there it is.

I had one of just about every bill you can have in America with the exception of the $100 bill.

“Forgot I brought my wallet, take care.”

I noticed as she took the bill that it was a 5.

I was happy it was not a 20 or a 50.

Mainly because it was the kind of moment that I would have let her have it, either way.

She stopped in place when she recognized the denomination.

“Thank you.”

Watching a meth head step out of their life and tear up at simply getting $5 is a emotionally surreal thing.

This is not a life changing event, but it did touch me.

In the good way.

St. Bittermac wishes you all a good day.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 8, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The Good, the Bad, and then it just gets Ugly.

Two items to get to before we descend into my usual diatribe.

 

The first is, after an unexpectedly long period of no job, by the time you read this, I will be on my second day at my new job.

Happy does not even begin to describe the feeling. We will start at relieved and grateful and go from there.

The exciting part is, while I was fast approaching the point of pursuing ANYTHING that came along, this is a position I would have left my long time job of last year for. Progressive start ups with an amazing product are exciting by nature, but there is so much right here, that I am humbled by how good a fit this looks like.

 

Second item. Baltimore appears to be burning to the ground. Add to that the Supreme Court listening to arguments on gay marriage and you have the type of situation that Facebook is wholly unsuited for.

Facebook has gang-raped debate into three categories.

  1. Loud, angry/condescending agreement of a political viewpoint, belief, or personal pet peeve.
  2. Name calling the moment someone disagrees.
  3. Blunt, rude, and often poorly stated slogans. These people are totally incapable of debate and get ugly when challenged.

If you cannot argue your point while remaining polite, then you do not understand your point well enough to argue it publicly. And before we descend into the idea that, “If you don’t agree with this, you are too stupid to talk to”, understand how big a cop out that line is. ANYTHING can be debated politely.

I often use words like a mugger uses a knife. My intent is to hurt, for a carefully shaped reason. Its not a good thing, but it is not necessarily bad. But I am never shocked when someone is hurt.

And thats the difference. Making a statement and then being shocked when someone is hurt by it, then claiming that it was not your intention is an immature, childish thing to say.

Done here.

 

There are sections of Los Angeles, California that are an odd juxtaposition of neighborhoods.

Like 2 or 3 different places that exist in the same place.

Here is what I mean.

Venice, California.

If you are a tourist, the Venice boardwalk area is a unique slice of Southern California that is a lot of fun.

If you are a homeless meth-head, the Venice Boardwalk is an open air home with dangers and pitfalls that is still your best location for not freezing to death in Winter.

If you are a Southern California native, Venice is a high priced real estate shithole of a place to live. (That was a quote from a 20 year Venice native.They also claimed they would NEVER leave.)

I am a native.

Going to Venice is a lot like visiting Tijuana, Mexico.

Its dirty, the poor are everywhere, and while you have a great time while you are there, you are SO happy you don’t live there.

But, much like going to Hollywood for the day, what strikes you is the high level of homeless that is there.

This is A-game shit, I kid you not.

There are 3 levels of homeless.

The first is the guy that got stoned at 15 and has stayed stoned ever since without developing a taste for meth. He has never had a job that did not involve either a name tag, a hair net or the risk of being arrested.

He is harmless.

His sign asking for money is probably a funny one. “Ninjas killed my family, need money for Kung Fu lessons.”

The next is your unconscious homeless.

You will never see this one awake.

It could be a heat wave and he will sleep thru it.

This is the one I pity the most.

I once left a sandwich next to this homeless guy to find when he wakes up.

That is not as noble as it sounds, I was buying a sandwich for myself and they had a 2 for 1 deal.

The last homeless is the one to fear.

He is a barely clothed daywalker with violent tendencies.

Meth is his God, and his worship practices are terrifying.

His hobbies include daily homeless fight club for varying reasons, violent take downs with groups of police, and defecating in public.

This is the one type of homeless that there is no fix for, no rehabilitation that will work or even help.

Like a rabid dog, he exists in pain and craziness until the day he drops.

You can smell crazy on him. (Smells a LOT like BO and shit/urine.)

These are the big dogs of homeless.

You can tell this by the fact that other homeless avoid them.

Think of it as the the bastard child of societal dynamic and Bernoulli’s Equation. (Look it up, most will still not see the connection.)

And when one of your variables is meth, all bets are off.

Keep your hands up and in plain sight, move slowly, speak softly, avoid eye contact and run when you get the chance.

Otherwise, you risk some pretty heinous potential damage.

You can take self defense all you like. (The best overall is Krav Maga. Despite some zipper heads resent claim that “Tai Chi is one of the most deadly martial arts”, it can be devastating but 99.99999% of ALL practitioners have no clue how to use it.)

No self defense on the planet work perfect for chemically crazy. (Google search “Bath salts face eating” after you eat, not before.)

Now you may ask, why are you at one of the most beautiful vacation areas available and focussing on the bad stuff.

Same reason that after you go to the puppet show for the first time and notice the strings, you can’t unsee them. The magic dies and you realize its a shame.

Now that is a depressing thought.

 

(Authors note, I wrote the depressing crap above prior to getting the new job. I was also on a 3 day no coffee or caffeine thing, big mistake, I am back to being caffeinated and twitchy. )

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 1, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,