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It's cold today. Really cold. When I'm in the office and it's cold my damn toes go numb. I sit on a concrete slab six foot under ground with only a carpet pad and carpet between me and frozen earth. In the past I've used boot warmers, hot hands, and even microwaveable slippers to keep my feet warm. Nothing works for very long. This year is looking to be as cold, if not colder than last year, and last year was too fucking cold. I'm pretty much done with the weather here. It's time for me to move to a beach somewhere. I'm compiling a list of trade-offs between living here and living on the beach. I'd miss my wife and kids for a bit, that would be one. Traffic is an issue in warmer climes, but on the other hand, I wouldn't have to drive anywhere. I could sleep outdoors. I might be able to walk places. Then again, I couldn't afford a house, so I'd be in a trailer... or maybe a boat. If I lived in a boat, I'd have to wear an eye patch. But if I really let myself go and get one of those huge round beer bellies, I could wear shorty shorts and oil it up and maybe some gold chains and go all Telly Savalas. Maybe a peg leg? I could eat or drink my way to diabeetus. I'm not really seeing a downside to the beach. I could loose feeling in my feet because of insufferable cold or endocrinological collapse. I'd rather be warm. Time to break out the Reese's and cheap flavored rum.
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The big digit.


I want to create an app that will anonymously send a picture of my middle finger to anyone's phone, email, snail mail, TV or mother's house. WHO'S WITH ME? I'll need a web anonymizer, a hundred bucks, some mayonnaise and big fucking picture of my middle finger. I mean a HUUUUUUUUGE Fucking picture of my middle finger. I want something so big that it will take forever to load and the son of a bitching asshole who I'm sending it to has to sit there and look at it eating away at his (or her) data plan while it downloads. Here's the code I started working on: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope my syntax is OK.
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Shorty Shorts


I've got a bunch of drafts in the queue that I'll probably never post because they got too long. In short, I know no one cares. If there are any questions about what those posts were to be about, the short answer is; I rented a car, it was broke; I went on a road trip with my wife, I volunteered at an art fair, I've been working like a dog, it's cold out now and I finally fixed the axles in my car. ... and bad language and also penises.
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It's freaking beautiful out. I have to say. I would love to be tooling around in my convertible, but I've somehow managed to destroy my rear axle. Incredibly disheartening. So I've been taking the old axles out and redoing other problems, but I just haven't had time to get any of this work done. I may have to go completely dark and just work on the damn car. At any rate, I don't have much to say. So don't feel cheated.
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Thirteen years


This is a folder in the mailbox I used back in 2001. I was working for a contracting company located on the 77th floor of tower 1 and had just submitted a time sheet for work I did in Ohio. I needed the money because I had been laid off at the beginning of August and had just moved my whole family far away from any type of safety net. I had worked about 90 hours, but my timecard was rejected over and over and I was getting pretty frustrated with the company I was working for. The day before this lovely little email exchange I had had an interview for a job in Louisville, and while I was arguing via email with this company I had a phone call scheduling another interview, also in Louisville, for the following Tuesday. I was in good spirits for some reason, even though I had just been jacked around by the hiring manager at one company (rhymes with ear panel) who seemed to have forgotten that I was hired on the day I showed up to start work. My interview the day before had gone well enough, but I knew that company wasn't going to pay anywhere near what I had been making. I did eventually get my time card approved, and I relaxed a bit that weekend. That Monday I got scheduled for another contract gig, sent out another seven resumes, and started seriously worrying about what I was going to do if I didn't get a job by the end of October when my severance ran out. Tuesday morning I got up and dressed, hopped into the old Volvo and was headed to Louisville when I heard on the radio that a small plane had hit the World Trade Center. As I rode in, I called my wife, and events unfolded around us. I kept my appointment. Me and the guy I interviewed with just sort of sat and looked at each other, talked about people we knew in New York, and watched the TV this company had in their lobby. I left after about an hour. I drove home, picked up Dangeresque from pre-school, got gas and made damn sure I had some cash on hand. Then I went home and watched everything fall down. I knew the company I was working for was in Tower 1, I also knew that every job I was applying for had just gone up in the smoke from those towers. Until 4:30 that afternoon when I got a call from Louisville. I was offered the job I had interviewed for on the 5th. The pay was twenty percent less than I had been getting, less even than I was making hourly as a contractor. The guy offering me the job told me that he could give me an extra week of vacation time that year, and they would start my benefits the day I started work, so I wouldn't have to COBRA. He also told me I'd be replacing the three contractors who he was going to be letting go. I knew what he meant, so I didn't hesitate. I took the job. It was the best career decision I ever made. I'd be poor for a couple of years. Low man on the totem pole for a while, but I'd survive, my family would eat. On October 1, I got an email from the company I had been contracting for. They had not had a fatality on 9-11 and they had been able to restore their data center at a cold site in Florida. This meant that I'd get paid. Eventually. ...and I did... right before Christmas. Just in time. I'm a lucky, lucky man.
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My goal to be smiley and happy and an all around positive person is just not working out. I really have a lot to say, but my own rules are forbidding it. maybe tomorrow.
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In my room...


Yesterday I had a conversation with my wife about buying new furniture for my home office, so I uploaded this picture to Facebook yesterday as a joke. I thought it would be funny, I had no idea that some people would take it seriously. This is not my office. It is a picture I found on the interwebs. Unfortunately, I'm not really friends with everyone I'm "friends" with on Facebook. Even worse, I tagged my wife in the picture, so all of her "friends" saw the picture too. Which means, a good hundred people now think that this is an accurate picture of my home office. If these people knew me at all, they'd know it wasn't, they know it was a joke, and they'd know that there is no way I could possibly live in a space with a lamp that ugly. Seriously. I mean, wow. That's a hideous lamp.
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