ugh just lost a 4 paragraph update. i’m abridge now.
temp job is ending this week or next, found out today. mostly because i’m not good enough at asp to keep around. this sucks since almost all the money i’ve made on this job will go to fixing my car….which died on the way to the interview.
still can’t get over the irony.
oh well, 2005, it’s a fresh start. after 2004 it can’t be much worse.
yeah.
jesus.
got that?
well a few last updates before the end.
i had a job interview thursday. it’s been postponed or probably cancelled thanks to the first snow in 15 years in memphis.
my car was supposed to be towed thursday. this was also cancelled/postponed.
fucking snow.
fucking christmas.
fucking jesus.
glad i’m dying soon. glad he’s already dead. glad i have work in 24 hours. this has been the worst christmas ever.
but i’m sure next christmas will be worse…..thats one of the only gurantees right now.
oh well, for all of you who are doing better then me.
i’m coming after you soon.
you were wrong that he forgot about it.
merry xmas 🙂
so i was in jail all last night and most of today.
long story.
anyway, i learned a really important lesson about wandering around cordova while drunk.
around 3am i went for a walk after drinking 3 forties. i ended up in the woods, walking near this creekbed. it’s like 15 degrees outside but for some reason this isn’t bothering me. maybe the beer.
so i walk probably 20 miles into the woods and realize that i have no idea where i am, which direction i’ve been going in for the last 2 hours. i finally come across a fence. i figure, a fence is a good sign, i can use this to navigate back to the road, which i can use to get home.
i walk around the fence, wondering where the fuck i’ve ended up. then the familar sight of flashing blue lights. now when your drunk and you see lights, the best advice is to run. wait, thats not the best advice. thats the worst advice.
so after a lengthy chase through the woods, ala The Fugitive, but drunk, the cops get their man. me….
handcuffed, walked thru the woods, trying to explain to them that “i’m not a criminal, i make websites”. this isn’t a valid reason to be in the woods in the middle of the night. i think some more. “im looking for my dog, she got out a few mintues ago, i know she’s around here somewhere”. they take pity on me and my imaginary lost dog and drop me off at my house. i am distraught about my imaginary dog. they take pity on me.
So a few weeks ago someone msged me on aim. This happens a lot. Since i am physically addicted to aim.
He asks me a few questions about my latest posts, mostly which are about suicide and car problems. He signs off. (don’t know it’s a he, could have been a she)
Last night in my unisom and vodka time of the evening, i msg him/her and ask “sup”. We talk briefly and he/she mentions that she knows of a company that is hiring a webdesigner. I forward him/her my resume and pass out reading Jurassic Park.
I wake up today feeling like death, shower and ride to work with my boss.
Around 9am i get a phonecall from a number i don’t recognize. They leave a voicemail. It’s the company he forwarded my resume to, they want to meet me asap. They mention that Jason gave them my resume. Okay, it’s a he.
I’m meeting them next week. If this job goes thru, which it might, this will be the 4th web job i’ve gotten thru aim.
I’m writing this only to post to the IT manager at my current contract who said “messenger programs are useless.”
thank you jason
well it’s been a few weeks at my new contract. i’ve never worked in a enviroment this corporate before and it’s definetely been a intresting little social experiment. so far here are the things i’ve noticed:
1) Who are you, what do you do here, how old are you
When i first started this job, i was greeted by a bunch of very friendly people. Everyone wanted to know my name and what i did there. Also how old i was, which i found slightly offending. I was even more offended when they asked if i worked in the warehouse. I kinda thought that after the whole dot com boom with 18 yr olds driving Corvettes, etc, that people recognized if you have skillz you can get paid. The weird part is i was introduced to them when they asked my name but i can’t remember a single person’s name. It’s weird, i dunno if it’s because they all look the same or if it’s just minor brain damage from alcohol….or both…
2) People care about how im doing
So all these people i’ve met have to ask how i am when they pass me in the hall, in the break room, etc. Depending on what time of the day, my repsonses range from “well, im doing okay for a INSERTDAYOFWEEK morning.” In the afternoons i fall back on the usual “im doin okay”. What’s weird is if you’ve been reading any posts lately, i am pretty fucking far from fine. Yet it’s easier to tell them im doing “okay”.
3) Free coffee is blessing in disguise
It’s kinda like those old DARE commercials where they talk about how you get the first “hit” for free and then you gotta pay for the rest. Well, it’s kinda like that except it’s just free. Pot after pot of coffee. As much coffee as i can crank into my poor body can handle i come to a scary realization. Back in the wonderful days of sitting at home making websites, i partook in drugs and alcohol to enhance my terrible graphic design skills. Now that i am in this strange corporate nightmare, drinking jug wine and blaring Tori will is not…in the usage agreement i signed. So when life gives you lemons, you make lemonaide. But when the corporate empire gives you free coffee, you drink as much as possible to where it starts to mimic uppers.
4) Most job firings occur because of your attitude, not your job performance
I am very frightened of losing this contract because i really really fucking need the money. Like after this contract is up, we will procede to plan b. Which includes auctioning off most of my material items on this site. So i’m trying to stretch this contract out as long as possible. This has included being as friendly as possible with the people i’ve recognized as the “big whigs”. Today, when one of them came into our area of the office, he mentioned to my boss that his wife, who’s picture was on his desk, was way too cute to be with him. I’m sitting there watching my superior code and i smile and say “Naw, that picture of the girl had to have come with the frame, i’ve seen the same pic at Target”. My joke, made without the use of the word “rape”. I’m very proud. lol *wink*
5) Riding to work with your boss and seeing some redneck look at porn
No, seriously. I ride from my parent’s house to my office with my boss. He lives right around the corner and i give him gas to pick me up and take me home everyday. It works out for him since our gas prices are totally fucked and it works for me cuz…my life is totally fucked. Today on walnut grove, we just driving along. He looks over and sees some redneck in a truck looking at a magazine. He turns to me and says “holy shit did you see that?”. I apparently didn’t. He’s goes “omg that guy is looking at porn!”. The traffic comes to a halt again and i look out the window. This unshaven redneck, complete with redneck jacket and redneck hat is looking at porn in rush hour traffic. We both are like “omfg, wtf” as i verify that he actually is, looking at porn, in rush hour traffic, on walnut grove, at fucking 7:30am. My superior says “wow, you gotta be in a bad place to have to look at porn on the way to work”. I am, for once, speechless. I justify it in my mind. If i have to be up this early, i like to drink beer. Porn is kinda like beer and…ugh no it’s still just fucked up in my head. We get in I-240 behind this pervert. He’s now cruising at like 65mph still flipping thru his porn and swerving in his lane. We thankfully pass him and i didn’t hear about any wrecks. But this dude is probably going to do this sick ritual tommorow, and tommorow. Just think, one day this pervert is going to kill your family.
Wow okay, better end this now with a nice closing paragraph. Wait for it, wait for it…
All and all, i’ve really enjoyed the last few weeks. Thank god none of them know about my evil site. Not yet. *roar*
i know scott peterson is guilty and was sentenced to death. please stop reporting it. he killed her. we know. stop telling us. we all know. seriously.
signed
america
i’ve been watching a lot of tv lately. a lot.
lots of police chases, cop shows, etc.
i’ve started to notice a disturbing trend.
i’m always rooting for the guy being chased by the cops.
weaving in and out of traffic, wrong side of the road, over sidewalks…i always want them to get away.
they never do.
if i was bill gates or donald trump or anyone of significant riches, i would have them outfit some crazy Porsche or something, spefically built to run from police. I would then run into a Circle K, grab a snicker’s bar or a hot dog, wait for the clerk to the call the police and book out to my car. I’d jump in, strap on my 5 point seat belt, put on my helmet and wait. As soon as the blue lights appear in the rear view mirror, i floor it.
I follow my pre planned route, based on what i know of the area and see how long i could keep the chase going.
Then, when i finally get caught, which always happens…my lawyers fly in on a helicoptor and i get off with a simple shoplifting charge.
I need to get into real estate, i can’t do this on a web designer salary.
yah know, if i was dead, i don’t think i’d care about the condition of my underwear.
something obviously went really really wrong in my day for strangers to be going thru my pants(or something really right lol), but god, you’re laying there without a head or massive wounds, cold and dead, why should you care?
it’s not like doctors can really discuss this stuff with the public because of that oath they give, right?
you also gotta wonder about any doctor who is like “damn, dude is dead….lets check out those fruit of the looms…..wow yup, this dude was rolling fresh.”
fuck it.
i’ve also heard that when you die that your bowels release, so it wouldn’t really matter if you’ve been wearing that chicks thong for 2 weeks or 2 hours. i guess the idea of dying in a chick’s thong kinda ruins my whole argument, okay ignore this paragraph.
in fact, just forgot you read this update
Well, my mustang needs a new engine. I hate you, Jesus.
Not good news. if anyone would like to paypal me $1,200 for a new engine and the labor, go ahead.
It’s a really good thing i don’t give a fuck about my life, my future or my cars or else this would be really depressing news. *reads line over and over until i believe it*
At least it’s given me a lot of good content for my upcoming book, titled Would You Like To Save Changes To SuicideNote.txt?
it’s now time to get plan b rolling, which is get my my del sol which is currently in a barn in Mississippi, have it towed to memphis and have someone finish dropping the engine in.
this plan requires my friend in MS not to screw me over, finding a place that can work on a honda in memphis without requiring my first born child, and the money to pay them.
no wonder i’m depressed, typing this out makes it even more depressing then it seems.
oh well.
i have wine, sleeping pills and tori amos mp3s. This is almost like my apartment. Except it’s my parent’s house.
I’m not sure but this feels like rock bottom. No car, a apartment that im paying rent, utilities and cable at, yet i can’t go there since it’s on the other side of the city. I think of it like my summer home that i never get to go to. Also since i probably won’t have a fucking car until summer, it will be a summer home.
Today i walked to the liquor store near my temp job’s office. You know you’re in a bad part of town when you walk into a liquor store and there is a foot of bullet proof glass between you and the liquor. You point like a monkey at the bottle you want, press your id against the glass and then slid your credit card thru the slot. Then, just like a vending machine, the redneck gives you your wine thru a little drawer.
I walk back into my little corporate world, carrying a huge brown paper bag. My superior, Chad, asks what’s in the bag. I tell him it’s data entry juice.
Chad gives me a ride back to my parent’s house and i walk in with my brown bag. My mom asks what’s in it. I tell her it’s Bibles.
She isn’t fooled.
Now i’m back in front of their computer, playing tori that margo sent me, drinking my jug of wine, eating my sleeping pills, wondering how much longer my mind and body can take this.
Everyone keeps telling me this will work out in the end but i really doubt it at this point. In their defense, when you’ve kinda hit rock bottom, like i apparently have, you can only go up, right? Right? No. It can always get worse. It probably will.
Last night after drinking a bottle of my parent’s wine i had some really intresting dreams. I had access to this portal that could take me in to any time and any place, anything i thought of. I dunno why but i kept asking it to take me to really random things, like “ice cream” and other random words. The little portal finally said “Okay, stop fucking around, why don’t you try something a little more significant?”. I go “okay, give me a suggestion?” It says, “Why don’t you ask me to take you to hell, because after you see that then you’ll appreciate every living moment you have left.”
The alarm goes off. Snapped back to reality.
Is my subconscience trying to tell me something?
Living at home with my folks again sure is…depressing.
My dad’s liquor cabinet is slowing being drained, ive woke up at 6:15am the past 2 days and will wake up the next 3 days at that same time. I’ll ride with my co-worker, do data entry for 8 hours, which is the webdesign equvilant of stitching soccer balls, then come home, watch TV and go to sleep.
I don’t know how people do this for 20-30 years at a time.
The car that has my mustang said they are still working on it. “Should be anytime now”.