The joys of middle management, Or: a Parable on the trials and tribulations of hiring ex-cons.

So it's safe to say that I've effectively reached middle management at the company I work at (for legal purposes I'm not allowed to disclose their name, practices, or business model as outlined in the NDA I signed at my hiring). But, the one thing I can talk about is the people we employ to do our dirty work; ex-convicts. That's right, fully 75% of our floor staff are recently out of prison and residing in a half-way house in town. The reason I mention this is because while the vast majority are trying to get their lives back together, family's back, and generally put their collective pasts behind them we still manage to get some of the world's greatest fucktards employed, albiet briefly, with my company. Take for example B.L. he is quite possibly the laziest man I've ever met. He spends at least half his day making sure his coffee is "just right" which means in any given week he does roughly fifteen minutes of actual work.

Then there are the fights.

When was the last time you saw a fight break out at your office? I saw mine this afternoon. Two guys completely destroyed our men's room over an ex-junkie or something. I can't wait until my employees start shanking each other with their pens!

Ugh, I'm completely exhausted, I have to fill out police reports tommorow while giving a presentation to the whole company and I still have have three more days of work this week.

I've returned to the internet, and a lot has happened.

Not that anyone will read this of course... I've come to terms with me doing this as a record for my own purposes. Where to begin, again? In my last post I made cryptic claims toward Kurt Vonnegut's divinity which I still hold firmly to. Since then I've managed to finish Philip Roth's "Plot Against America" which I can sum up as having a great concept but poor execution. I've also started about half a dozen others but cannot for the life of me make it past page 45 on any of them. I've also moved halfway across the country to a wonderful new town, and into a spacious townhouse with my permanent girlfriend and companion, which is pretty close to being an adult I'm told. I've grown sick of people asking when the wedding is/where my wife is (She's right next to me dammit!). But I digress, things at first were a little sticky, but I've come through them all with a management position and a fistful of wetnaps.

The town I moved to is Fort Collins, I love it.

History will prove him the new messiah

Kurt Vonnegut is Jesus. He brings with him an entirely new vision of the universe. Thousands of years from now people will vigorously debate his teachings in the parable of "slaughterhouse 5"

He wrote this a couple of months back I really like it.

He's a very good guesser. And 83 to boot!

What women want: Or, the "I'm not mad" syndrome

I found this and thought it an important jumping off point for today's talk; The seemingly unbridgable divide in communication between men and women. Since that link leads to a womanspeak to english translator, I thought it would be nice to provide a man to English version.

Here we go:

Man English
Of course I will Stop yelling at me
No you're not fat Stop asking me that
I love you I love you, seriously. Yes even if you were bald and a parapalegic cancer patient who had no money.
I didn't hear anything I was almost asleep
No, I honestly didn't hear it I was having that Swedish dream again!
She didn't mean anything to me She was a stripper
I went out with the guys To Tijahuana
I wasn't looking at her! How do you keep catching me!?!
You look beautiful Stop asking me if you're fat
Do we have to talk about this now? The game's on/ I'm eating/sleeping/having sex with you
Yes dear I just want peace and quiet
Oh that is a nice ring we've only been dating a week
Where do you want to go for dinner? Pick a place, any place. You know where you want to eat, just tell me!!!
I like that pair of shoes They all look the same.
I'm cooking tonight I want Pizza.
What do you want for your birthday? Just tell me, because if I have to find something it'll be returned in three weeks for what you really wanted.
Could we talk about this elsewhere? I'm using the bathroom.

I'm sure that there are hundreds more, so add your favourites today!

Because this is easier than actually writing stuff

I've found the original manamina video (of that song Adam Naylor would sing constantly) over at my new favourite place. videosift.com

basically it picks out all the best google video's and some tv shows and puts up those clips for your enjoyment.

pretty sweet eh?

This is what happens when you have to much time on your hands, and a lot of video equipment

To be honest, I don't even really know what to say about this video. As far as I can tell, this is the laziest attempt yet to become an internet fad.

the sweetest rendition of a beetles song

If you like music at all, you have got to check this out.

Hola Chochachos!

So I finally finished editing the disclaimer for my thesis, and I'll be damned if the thing isn't like a page long! Christians today get so uppity about their faith that I've had to include riders into my definitions of Christianity, church, faith ect. And you should see my work on the word "evangelical" that shit is a work of motherfucking art!

Anyway, I just got back from spring break (YEAAAHHH!!!) where I managed to fit in some serious partying into my busy schedule. Now I know what you may be thinking, old Eric's just gonna go out and get himself a stone cold twelve of PBR and let the party come to him.

This is not how it played out however.

I'm talking strait up partying old school adult style. Smoking jackets and a '66 vintage sort of partying. The sort of party that makes the responsibility fairy sit up at night in a cold sweat knowing I'm coming for him. That's right, I'm talking about a weekend trip with my lady. At first we were going to head to Philadelphia or Boston (birthplace of the American party scene), but ended up taking a much more modest trip for reasons that will become apparent in the next sentence. Forrester came to Kent! Good ole Mike showed up and we ended up kicking it Cleveland with Dolan and Libby. We drank some excellent beer and some fine single malt while enjoying some trivial pursuit. When Mike left the next morning, I headed to Wadsworth to pick up Flor, and to plan for our early departure the next morning. We had finally settled on going to Marietta, to see where I went to high school and all that, and the next day heading to Lancaster to help my dad finally move out to Missouri.

The trip down was completely easy, but the hotel was a trip! We stayed at the historic hotel downtown, and the room was completely full of wood. The walls were covered like the living room at 16 N. Elm (or for those of you who have never been there, your grandparent's den). The furniture was all dark mahogany carved with gothic scenes, and all the lamps had a maximum brightness of 45 watts. Couple that with the fact that all the lampshades were red, and you have got Paul Bunyan's 70's love in nest, complete with avocado bathroom but suspiciously lacking the rotating waterbed. Needless to say, it was the greatest thing since fire, which was apparently the theme of the room next door.

The next morning we got up and went antiquing. Seriously. We looked at a bunch of old crap that didn't even have the courtesy of burying itself for a couple of centuries. It could have gone on all day, until I mentioned that everything in all the stores we visited came strait out of the houses of old dead people who didn't have anyone love them enough to take their crap. Then we visited a winery and tried free shots of wine. The day definitely takes on a special glow when you've got a buzz on by ten am.

Well I'm starting to get a little long winded, so I'll probably update you on the rest of the trip when I get back from my walk and symposium. Later Chochachos!