The Church of Lost Souls

Orgasms, god and the 'ex'

I read this little tidbit in this month's "FHM" magazine: according to Biology Letters (???), it takes the average woman 12 minutes to reach orgasm; the average man 2 and a half.  What's this about 'Intelligent Design'?  What the fuck is that all about?  Talk about a defective product; man was created to NOT satisfy woman.  If there is a god, he/she set us fellas up to fail!  Our women are destined to look elsewhere because we can't get the job done.  Thanks a lot Big G.  Given these findings, it puts an interesting spin on the debate over the gender of a supreme being--would this imply it was a 'he' or a 'she'?  If it were a 'she', it would be the other way around; women would get theirs first and men would often be left to their own devices (hands).  But if it were a 'he', guys would last a lot longer, so we could all have enormous egos and beat our chests afterwards.  Not to mention we'd all be hung like Clydesdales.  Then again, if you ask most guys they'll all tell you they're marathon men, and their schlongs are all at least 8 inches long.  Come to think of it, if god were female, all men would have huge yogurt cannons as well.  Based on all of this, I'm convinced there is no god at all. 

Speaking of sex, it's now been 6 months without for me.  It's no big deal--I don't miss 'sex', I miss sex with her.  I was discussing this with my shrink last time I saw him and he was concerned about me not missing it.  "Okay doc, I see your point.  I'll be sure to try to shag every strange woman I meet."  The way I see it, for the first time in 13 years I made love; sure, sex is great, but making love after all that time was magical, and made ordinary coitus pale in comparison.  Casual sex just isn't that high a priority for me anymore.  I've had a taste of the good stuff and now I'm willing to wait for it.  Hopefully it won't be another 13 years...

Goddamned

Pretty lousy day today was.  I'm still sick (and now feel worse than 'shit') and encountered endless hassles that make being sick all the worse (like burning my fucking tongue eating chicken soup).  But in light of what's happened on the gulf coast, it's hard to really complain about anything, isn't it?  So here are some thoughts (not complaints):

Pulled into a gas station to find the price $2.99 a gallon for regular, along with signs saying there was a $20 limit due to supply shortages.  In a post on August 22nd I was complaining about paying $2.69.  So we've got cities completely submerged, including one of the largest cultural centers in this country (New Orleans), about which the mayor today said "the city will not be functional for two or three months."  Martial Law has been declared as looters ransack whatever businesses are still standing.  Scientology volunteers have already showed up at sites devastated by Hurricane Katrina, handing out food and giving "messages," using one of the nation's most devastating natural disasters to recruit members.  The price of gasoline will soon surpass $3.00 a gallon and gas stations are reduced to rationing fuel.  It was announced this week that our poverty rate rose to 12.7 percent of the population last year, the fourth consecutive annual increase (37 million people living in poverty, up 1.1 million people from 2003).  We're fighting 'a war' that our Commander in Chief lied about in order to gain approval for, yet he still hasn't been impeached.  Despite overpopulation and dwindling natural resources, the Pope is urging Catholics to have more babies "for the good of society," as more children will provide "the security, the stability and the force of a numerous family."  One of our country's religious leaders, Pat Robertson, called for the assassination of the president of another country.  Etc., etc., etc.  Is it me, or is this the end of life as we know it?

And regarding Katrina, this is one of the reasons I don't believe in a supreme being.  There are 2 types of believers: 1) those (like my Jehovah's Witness friend and co-worker Chris) who believe in a god who is an 'absentee landlord'; god created earth and man but just sits and observes, not intervening because he gave us 'free will' and someone ate an apple.  2) those (like athletes who "thank god" after winning a sporting event) who believe in a god who created earth and man and does intervene, but conveniently only when good things happen to them, not when bad things happen to others. 

As far as the first type, why would a god have created an imperfect place such as Earth for us to exist on, constantly under the threat of hurricanes, tornadoes, monsoons, etc.  Isn't that like having a child but not locking your cabinets to keep harmful chemicals away from them or covering electrical sockets to prevent them from probing the openings with metal objects?  Their response always goes back to "original sin'--god gave us free will and told Adam and Eve not to eat the apple, but they did so, and as a result we're all fucked.  I guess that's where the saying "one bad apple spoils the whole bunch" comes from.  Forget 'original sin'; how about 'original sadist'?  Using that rationale, we should just leave loaded guns accessible to our children.  Tell them "don't touch," but if they do they do, because they were given free will.  Friend Bruce had some funny lines when we were discussing this: "the whole world is doomed because someone ate a stupid apple!  Why do we still eat apples then?  An apple doomed us to hell, yet we still call them cute names like Golden Delicious and Granny Smith!"

Regarding the second type of believers, I remember watching one of the national news channels the night Elizabeth Smart was rescued in 2003 after being kidnapped and spending 9 months with a couple of religious wackos.  The TV anchor's intro when breaking the story of her recovery was "Ladies and gentlemen, miracles do happen."  Elizabeth's aunt, Cynthia Smart-Owens, rejoiced "I just had to give thanks to God that she was found, that he has answered all the prayers."  But what about the families of the children that AREN'T found alive; why didn't he answer their prayers?  Is this selective intervention?  God picks and chooses which situations to intervene in, which children to return home alive and which ones to return home as decomposed remains?  And don't get me started on athletes praising god for victory; what, did he have the Patriots in his/her office pool?

God bless America.  And god help us all...

Leaving Comments

Apparently there's some sort of issue here with leaving comments.  If you try to leave a comment sometimes the following warning message appears:

In an effort to combat malicious comment posting by scripts, I've enabled a feature that requires a weblog commenter to wait a short amount of time before being able to post again. Please try to post your comment again in a short while. Thanks for your patience.

I'm trying to resolve this issue.  In the meantime, if you see this message just scroll down and hit Post again.  If the message appears again, just scroll down and hit Post again.  Basically just hit Post a few times.  Even I ran into this problem, but hitting Post again (sometimes it took me a couple of times) allowed me to post the comment.

Creep

Rocky Mountain Oysters anyone?

I'm still sick so during my lunch hour today I head to this Cuban place down the street from my office to pick up some chicken soup.  I order 2 quarts, 1 for lunch and 1 to take home for dinner, then take a seat at the counter.  While I'm waiting, I pass the time by looking over the lunch specials, which mercifully were in both Spanish and English.  I notice that one of the items was 'oxtail in creole sauce.'  I've gotta tell ya, one of the last parts I'd eat on an animal (after the genitals, of course) would be the tail.  I'm not sure why--maybe it's because when I think of a 'tail' I think of some whip-like appendage just above the stinking bunghole of a dirty animal used to swat away flies and other nuisances.  We've discussed this at work before and friend Bruce (from South Africa) swears oxtail is a delicacy; but then again, I don't think you would need more than 1 hand to count the things friend Bruce wouldn't eat.  I mean, not even going into the various offensive things he's brought in for lunch, he's not what one would call a 'picky' eater.  You know how there's the '5-second rule' applying to food that falls on the ground?  For Bruce it's the '5-hour rule.'  I've literally seen him walk around and pick up off the floor and eat stuff his kids dropped long after they left the office.  No wonder the Carrick's don't have a dog, they don't need one.  He's the one who cleans dropped or spilled foods off the floor--by eating it.  I'm just surprised he actually uses his hands to do so.

Anyways, so I'm sitting in this Cuban restaurant trying to think of the most repulsive thing I've ever eaten.  In my radio days I ate a couple of live meal worms, but passed on Cow Cod soup (a Jamaican dish made with bull penis), headcheese and SPAM.  When it comes to eating I don't fuck around.  I'm not eating pigs' feet, the organs of any animal, or anything that's name is an anagram for "spare parts and membranes."  I understand that hot dogs are probably made entirely of leftovers, but I've been eating and enjoying them my entire life, there's no turning back now.  Besides, I'm a Jew; I think we're required by law to eat them.

The most repulsive thing I've ever eaten was the result of a menu that WASN'T IN BOTH SPANISH & ENGLISH (fucking wetbacks)!  I was in Los Angeles during college and used to frequent these 'roach coaches' (kitchens on wheels) that were found on practically every block downtown.  They served awesome, authentic Mexican food (no sour cream, cheese or ground beef to be found) and I never got sick.  One day, I went to my favorite 'roach coach' and was in the mood to try something besides chicken or steak.  Mistake number 1 (why would you pass up chicken or steak, unless you were in a place that had seafood you knew was fresh?  Like they're gonna have veal on a mobile kitchen on the streets of downtown L.A.?).  From my limited Spanish, I knew that 'labios' was lips so that wasn't an option.  'Sesos y barbicoa' caught my eye, as I figured it must be barbecued something.  I attempted to ask the lady behind the counter what 'sesos y barbicoa' was but she didn't speak English and could offer me no help.  There was no one else in line, so I would get no answer.  But I was young, reckless and invulnerable back then so I said "fuck it, what's the worst it could be?"  I ordered 2 'sesos y barbicoa' burritos.  Mistake number 2 (don't EVER order something if someone cannot intelligibly explain what it is).

When I got back to my place I ate the burritos.  They weren't bad, in fact they were perfectly edible; but I didn't enjoy them as much as the chicken or steak so I knew I wouldn't be ordering them again.  Certainly not after I went back to this particular 'roach coach' the next time and found out what they were made of.  There happened to be a fella working the counter who could speak English, and out of curiosity I asked him what 'sesos y barbicoa' was.  "Brains" he replied.  "Excuse me?"  Once again, he said "brains, barbecued brains."  Suddenly I lost my appetite and didn't bring home food that evening.  And I never ate 'sesos y barbicoa' again.

Help

I get in the car this morning to drive to work and discovered more spiderwebs.  My schizophrenic A.C. was working, but damn, those sons-of-bitches are ambitious little arachnids.  And I've already told you how much I HATE spiders.  I love many animals, like most of them, and fear few.  Those include sharks, alligators and spiders.  I find it hilarious when I come across people afraid of toads or geckos; they are completely harmless (unless you're a dog that happens to lick a toad).  But my 3 can all fuck your day up.  And I'm driving on the highway in constant fear of one of those critters crawling up my leg or across my face. 

Does anybody have any suggestions on how to remove spiders from the interior of a sedan?

Wish List

I wish I had a dog

I wish this cold/flu would go away

I wish those closest to me actually knew how important they were to me

I wish beards weren't so fucking itchy

I wish my friend in the northeast the best at getting over her and her husband's loss

I wish gas prices would go down, drastically

I wish football season would get here already (9 days and counting)

I wish slower traffic would keep right

I wish there weren't millions of people in this country without healthcare

I wish everyone would perform at least one random act of kindness each day

I wish my conscience didn't prevent me from casually fucking strange women, like I did back in college

I wish my best friend Rick would move home

I wish I could go fishing at least once a week

I wish she cherished our time together as much as I do

Oh yeah...

I forgot to mention the spiders.  Yeah, that's right, spiderS.  I get into my car this morning to find several spider webs inside with little spiders lounging in the middle of them.  And when I went to get my bottled water out of the trunk, there was a large spider in the middle of a web back there.  I fucking HATE spiders.  So I swatted down the webs with a Sharper Image catalog and killed the little fuckers.  When I got in the car for my lunchtime sweltering, I found even more webs.  So I was stuck in traffic in an un-airconditioned car imagining spiders crawling all over me.

Anyone have any ideas about getting rid of spiders?  From my car?

Sick and frenzied

Just got back from running some errands during lunch.  I was pretty fuckin' close to having a complete, nervous breakdown.  Here's how easy it is.  First of all, I'm as sick as a dog; I feel like shit.  On top of that, I'm tired, because yesterday afternoon my electricity went out briefly, then only came back on in half of the apartment (of course the A.C. was in the half that did NOT come back on).  It wasn't as bad as Thursday night since I could at least plug a fan in, but add the heat to my scratchy throat and Creepy go little if no sleep.  No biggie, the day's halfway over; just let me get in the car and run my errands.  I start up the car and the A.C. doesn't come on.  Is there some sort of air conditioning conspiracy going on that I'm not aware of yet?  Of all luxuries to be without, especially when I'm already boiling due to a fever.

So here I am, sick and tired, driving around Miami Lakes with my windows down attempting to remain somewhat cool.  But it's no use--at every traffic light I begin sweating profusely.  Yet I continue on my way, and pull into a shopping center on the corner of Ludlam and Miami Gardens Drive so I can jump out, run into GameStop and pick up the latest Madden NFL game for Xbox.  There are no empty spots so I drive around until I find one, but since the stupid motherfuckers who run this place made the parking spots 4 feet wide so they could in theory fit as many cars in the lot as possible, I can't fit my American sedan into the spot without wedging it in-between the other two cars with the aid of KY Jelly.  Who drives cars that are only 4 feet wide?  There are probably some Hondas, a couple of Toyotas, and maybe a Hyundai or Kia or two that can fit in these spaces.  What is with this new phenomenon?  It seems like every place I go now has parking lots full of 'compact' spaces.  Sure, you could fit say 100 cars in there instead of 75, but what percentage of the population drives 'compact' cars?  And what about the proliferation of SUVs?  They've got to account for at least 25% of all vehicles on the road; where the fuck are they supposed to park?  I swear if I had any say in the matter people would have to pass an IQ test before being allowed to breed.  And if they fail, sterilization.

By the way, just as an aside, whenever I forget that I'm living in a Latin country, all I have to do is go to a shopping center in Dade County.  It all comes back to me...

So here I am in my large, American sedan, whose A.C. is currently not working, driving around and around this parking lot looking for an empty space--rather an empty space I can fit my car into--never coming close to reaching a speed that will allow enough air to come through the open windows to cool me down.  I finally find a spot that is just large enough for me to fit into, although I nearly had to exit via the trunk.  I go into the store and do my business, then get back into the rotisserie oven-on-wheels and head back to the air conditioned sanctuary of my office.  But once I get a few blocks from our building traffic slows to a crawl: construction.  Wasn't I just saying last week how the government should pay to have crews work road construction projects 24-hours-a-day/7-days-a-week to reduce the amount of time everyone is inconvenienced?  Apparently nobody was listening, and your ailing antagonist was forced to inch down the street while the sweat poured.  It was like placing an ice sculpture outdoors during the summer in a tropical climate.  Not to mention the fact that for some stupid fucking reason I grew a beard and it's itching like nobody's business.  I'm scratching my face as if I had ticks.  It was at that point I nearly lost it, put the car in park, got out and walked away like Michael Douglas in "Falling Down."  I could feel my last nerves coming unraveled.  Fortunately for all involved, I made it to the office before I self-destructed.  But my clothes are drenched with sweat, I am practically delirious from the fever and heat, and left my Halls throat drops in the car and don't want to leave the precious A.C. and go back out in the oppressive heat to get them. 

Today would have been the perfect day to call in sick and stay in bed.  Then again, there was no air conditioning in my apartment.  "How come it never rains, it only pours..."

Swimming lesson

This one too...

 

Watering hole

This amuses me for some reason...

 

Puzzling...

I find it really puzzling how one of our most important constitutionally guaranteed freedoms, freedom of speech, works.  See, the first amendment of our constitution reads:

Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech or of the press; or the right of the people to peaceably assemble...

This is one freedom that is not such a luxury in many other countries around the world.  Yet here it seems to have turned into a freedom as long as people agree with what you have to say.  In case you've been living under a rock, this woman, Cindy Sheehan, who's son was killed in Iraq, has set up camp outside President Bush's home in Texas demonstrating in an attempt to speak with him.  Of course this scumbag refuses to meet with her, but he hasn't had to answer to anybody about this illegal occupation that he lied about in the first place.  So this poor woman lost her son, is upset, doesn't believe we belong there in the first place (like the majority of the country, according to polls), and is peacefully demonstrating.  Whether you agree with her or not, she should be permitted to air her grievances.  But no, that's not how things work in this country anymore.  Counter protests are being held and people are imploring her to "go home."  It's like when the lead singer of the Dixie Chicks spoke out against Bush during a concert and radio stations actually pulled the band's music from their rotations.  Sure doesn't sound like you're free to speak your mind anymore. 

The woman's child was killed because our President lied to gain approval to invade Iraq, a country that has proved to have been no more of a threat to us than any other country (where are those WMDs again?).  Leave her alone.  If she wants to sit out in the heat protesting, leave her be.  How does she not get any sympathy for being a grieving mother?  Heartless bastards.

On the personal front, I'm sick, some sort of throat and chest thing.  So I'm just sitting indoors trying to find something to watch on one of the four TV channels I get with my cable still out.  But I'm not complaining (although I REALLY could do without all these infomercials); I'm quite content just having electricity, which many people down here still don't have.  And I'm certainly miles better off than those unfortunate people in Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi who are about to get annihilated by Hurricane Katrina.  How do spiritual people explain catastrophic hurricanes again?  If there is a god, he/she has one wicked fuckin' sense of humor...

"Sleeps through a Hurricane..."

Not only is that the title of one of my favorite songs (by the Dogs D'amour, the best band no one has ever heard of), it aptly describes me.  I got home Friday about 4:45 with the wind already ripping from the approach of Hurricane Katrina.  I put the 12-pack of beer that had been sitting in my car since lunchtime in the fridge and pulled a couple of extra ice trays from storage, filled them with water and placed them in the freezer so I would have plenty of ice for the evening.  I had just sat down at the computer to check the latest forecast when my electricity went out.  Doh!  The storm hadn't even hit yet and I would be stuck with warm beer and not enough ice to enjoy Jack on-the-rocks all night.  Not to mention the fact that I leave my A.C. set at 80 when I'm out and I didn't have a chance to at least cool the place down.  Fuck me.  It was gonna be a long, uncomfortable night...

So I pulled out a battery powered radio and a flashlight.  I turned on the radio and made myself comfortable on my bed.  There wasn't much to do with Katrina on our doorstep so I rolled onto my side and fell asleep around 5:30.  Around 7:30 I was awoken by my ringing telephone.  It was friend Bruce, asking me how I was.  I told him I was fine.  He asked what was going on, and I told him nothing.  He asked what it was like "over there" and I replied "business as usual, why?"  He then reminded me that we were in the middle of a hurricane.  If he hadn't said anything I wouldn't have remembered; it was as quiet as any other day outside.  The eastern part of the hurricane had passed and the eye was passing over where I live in Hollywood.  It was eerie.  When I was falling asleep I could hear the wind howling outside my bedroom, but now it was dead silent.  It was eerier to him that I had slept through the first half of a hurricane.

It wasn't a surprise to me--I sleep through just about anything.  I'm amazed I actually heard the phone ring.  When Hurricane Andrew hit in '92 (a much bigger storm), I slept through that as well, although I must admit I was so terrified that night waiting for it I was doing shots of peppermint schnapps to ease my nerves.  I fell asleep before the shit hit the fan and only woke up because the windows in my bedroom were rattling and my mother was concerned so she woke me up and told me to go sleep in the hallway.  So I got up, grabbed my pillow, went to the hallway and went back to sleep until it was all over.  When I sleep, I sleep.  That's why I have 2 alarm clocks.

So once Bruce had me awake, I got up to survey the situation.  No damage to my apartment and from what I could see out the window there was no catastrophe.  Within a half an hour the wind picked up again as the western side of the storm approached.  I called Mom and Dad to check on them.  They were fine but had just lost power themselves.  With nothing to do but wait it out, I poured myself a Jack on-the-rocks, perched myself on my loveseat in front of the living room windows and watched the trees dancing in the wind.  I spent the rest of the evening having a couple more Jack's while listening to the radio.  I thought about the 'ex' and considered sending her a text message to make sure she was okay, as around this time last year during another hurricane I had sent her a message to check up her.  We went on 3 dates a month earlier but I was seeing another gal as well and thought I should make a choice, so I chose the other gal, who I had been on more dates with.  The other gal didn't do it for me and I regretted not continuing to see the 'ex', which I explained to her in our text conversation, which eventually led to us talking on the phone, which eventually led to us dating again, which eventually led to me falling in love with her, which eventually led to me getting my heart broken.  But I restrained myself and didn't message her.  Around 11:30 I fell asleep for the night.

I woke up at a quarter to 7 to find no damage to my apartment.  From my windows I could see there were some tree branches down but all structures within view were intact.  I couldn't get a signal on my cell phone and my land line was dead, but I was thankful I made it through relatively unscathed.  I was concerned about my folks but couldn't call to check on them and on the radio they were warning people not to venture outside due to downed power lines.  So I sat in bed listening to the radio.  It was around that time when I wondered why they make battery operated radios and televisions but not fans.  This is south Florida for fuck's sake, it's like living in an oven.  How has nobody come up with this idea yet?  Do you know how much money you could make selling this?  Note to self...

I drifted back to sleep around 11 and slept until the phone rang at 12:30.  Once again it was friend Bruce, cursing me for telling him yesterday I wished the hurricane made a sharp right turn and went right over his house, which it did.  I don't recall why I said it, but I'm sure I had a good reason.  But he had the last laugh as his electricity came back on at 11 p.m. Friday night, his satellite dish was functioning, and he had cold beer in his fridge.  Funny-talking douchebag (he's from South Africa).  Now that my phone was working I called to check on Mom and Dad.  They were fine, but without power as well.  I took a cold shower (a battery powered water heater wouldn't be a bad idea either) and ventured outside to head over to their house.  I was pleased to find my car intact.  Ohhh, how nice it was to get in the car and turn on the A.C.  On the way I noticed plenty of branches and trees down and several traffic lights out but no structural damage.  Fortunately, Katrina was only a category 1 hurricane.  We got off easy.  Here are some pics:

Katrina 1

Katrina 2

As far as the traffic lights, I took my driver's test 21 years ago (damn, that makes me feel so fucking old) but I remember that when the light is out at an intersection it becomes the same as a 4-way stop sign.  I can possibly understand people not knowing that the left lane of a highway is for passing, slower traffic KEEP RIGHT, but how do you forget this?  I can't tell you how many assholes I saw blowing through intersections or people honking at me for stopping where the traffic light was out.  You should be required to take an IQ test before being allowed to breed...

I picked up Mom, Dad and a load of meat (Dad had made an ill-advised trip to the butcher Friday) and headed to my great aunt and uncle's place, as their electricity had been on since 11 Friday night.  After filling their freezer, I spent some time with my great uncle Marty.  It was depressing; as much as I hate to say it, he looks like he's on death's door.  Despite Mom telling me he was always mean and rotten to everyone, including his wife (my great aunt Shirley) and his kids (my cousins Richard and Judith), he was never anything but great to me; he treated me like I was his own grandson.  When I was young, he would come by our house every day and spend time with me, giving my Mom a welcome break.  I'll never forget walking on the beach with him as he taught me to 'pop' washed up jellyfish by throwing rocks at them (very cool, try it sometime), catching my first snake with him, and watching football with him, gaining insight a young boy could only get from a former player (he excelled at it but never went pro due to a back injury).  Most of my relatives might say he was not a 'great' man, but he was to me.  Truly a 'great' uncle.

Okay, sorry for the sentimental detour; I may be a relentless prick, but I do have a heart.  So Mom, Dad and I leave for the Aventura Mall to get Dad a new cell phone charger for Dad's car.  After I dropped them off I went home to find the power was restored in my building.  Nice.  Almost 24 hours, not too bad.  Once the A.C. had cooled the place sufficiently, I laid down for a nap as I didn't sleep very soundly in the heat.  I woke up at 8:00 p.m. and went out to get some soda, cigarettes and pistachio ice cream from a convenience store.  On the way, I called friend Bruce and sarcastically told him I would not be taking him up on his offer to sleep at his place if my power did not come back on.  He replied "I don't recall making that offer," to which I said "exactly you prick!"  I was just busting his balls, that's what I do.

So I have A.C., television (no cable yet but I'm not complaining), my beer eventually cooled and my freezer turned trays of water into ice, and my family and friends are all safe and sound.  I'm content.  It's been a stressful and uncomfortable 24 hours so I'm gonna get drunk and eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's pistachio ice cream.  We made it through Hurricane Katrina relatively unscathed, but it really makes you think about going through a category 4 or 5 storm.  I'm a godless heathen so I don't pray, but my best wishes go out to those in the panhandle who will be paid a visit by her within the next few days.  And I hope anyone you might know down here made it through as successfully as I did.

Mother Nature sure can be a fuckin' bitch.

Fucking French

No wonder the entire world hates the fuckin' frogs.  I'm literally sick to my stomach...

Here comes the rain again...

Just waiting for Tropical Storm/Hurricane Katrina to come ashore.  She's supposed to make landfall late tonight/early Friday, very close to us.  The wind shouldn't be so bad but they're predicting as much as 20 inches of rain.  As long as I'm indoors with nowhere to go that's no biggie to me.  I was concerned about driving to work this morning as I heard the weather was supposed to be terrible and thought my commute might take me hours, but it was a smooth ride.  I hope this evening's is just as hassle-free.  And that my office is closed tomorrow.  Sure, it's no monster storm, but can anyone justify forcing their employees to drive to work in tropical storm conditions?  I hope not. 

If we are indeed closed tomorrow, I will be awaiting Katrina tonight in the comfort of my living room with a bottle of Jack Daniel's to keep me company.  The lottery drawing last night was for $35,000,000.  I didn't win the big prize, but my ticket did have 4 numbers so I won $70.  At lunchtime I'll head to the liquor store to cash it, and spend some of my windfall on a bottle of Jack.  Some days it actually does feel good to be alive.

But others...  A friend of mine told me yesterday that she had miscarried.  She wasn't very far along, but that doesn't make it any less painful for her.  She miscarried the first time she was pregnant, which I think was about a year ago.  Poor thing, I feel terrible for her--I know how difficult the first time was.  My mother had 4 miscarriages (once was a set of twins), which led to the adoption of my sisters and I, but it's still a touchy subject for her after all these years.  I find it curious how these things work: a fantastic gal like her who will make a wonderful mother has suffered 2 miscarriages; a woman living on welfare who already has 8 kids fathered by 6 different men can keep squeezing them out like an assembly line.  How can anybody make a solid argument for the existence of a supreme being???

Speaking of childbearing, isn't it time we put a limit on the number of children a couple can have?  Or do we just want to continue full throttle towards overpopulation of the planet and depletion of our natural resources.  Three sounds like a good number to me; in today's day and age, how many families can afford to comfortably raise more than 3 children?  Not to mention send them to college, which I believe is the parents' responsibility.  Young adults emerging from college with their degree ready to take on the world already thousands of dollars in debt doesn't make sense to me, and remember, I've appointed myself 'Commissioner of Common Sense'.  You want kids, be prepared to pay for their education.  Don't think it's your responsibility, don't feel like it or can't afford it, use fucking protection you selfish pricks.

Man, have I been a relentless hardass all week or what?  I think I need to get laid; it's been just about 6 months now.  But I'm more concerned about her (the 'ex') NOT getting laid than me getting laid.  My shrink should give me a refund...

Random thoughts

I was driving down Hallandale Beach Blvd and noticed that despite the lane closures for construction, there was nobody working.  Not a soul.  I got to thinking (since I have elected myself 'Commissioner of Common Sense')--how come don't they perform road construction 24-hours-a-day?  I don't care how many shifts it takes, 2, 3, 4, just get it done as quickly as fuckin' possible.  Does that make too much sense, reducing the amount of time everyone is inconvenienced??? 

What, that would cost too much money?  I've got an idea: how about cities having their cops sit at intersections, like they do at speed traps, and write tickets to all the cocksuckers who run red lights.  Quit wasting time catching people going 42 m.p.h. in a 35 zone; catch those who actually hurt, maim and kill innocent people.  Priorities man, priorities.  And jack the fines up so when someone does get a ticket for running a red light it really stings, so maybe they'll actually resist the urge to ever do it again.  Five-hundred bucks for a first offense sounds about right.

I tell ya, I'm terrible with accents.  I have a great deal of difficulty understanding foreigners.  And of course, half the people at my company were born in another country.  I'm serious--23 out of 55 were born and spent a considerable amount of their lives outside of America.  See, it's a nice scheme they've got here: hire people from other countries who are just dying to get to America and offer to sponsor them for visas; they're willing to take less money then an American.  It's a good deal for everyone, except for those of us who have to work with them but can't understand a word they say.  And those Americans who can't find work because their company gave their job to a foreigner because they would work for less $$$.

Being a technical writer, I have to spend a fair amount of time with my fellow employees having them explain to me certain things so I can write about them.  Most if this stuff is way over-my-head technically, which makes my brain ache.  Imagine you are trying to learn a very complicated process well enough that you can write about it in a manner that others can learn it by reading what you wrote.  Now imagine the person trying to teach you this very complicated process is from, oh I don't know, let's say China.  And you can only understand every fifth word they say.  It's a good thing I lost most of my hair before I started working here...

So I'm eating my Publix sub in the lunch room at work today all by myself.  This is what lunch has come to ever since friend Bruce left for another job (thanks a lot assfucker).  Anyways, this nice enough Chinese gal who's been here about a month comes walking towards the kitchen.  Now I say she's "nice enough," but that's only from the few words she speaks I can understand.  As she's heading to the kitchen, I'm saying to myself "please don't come and sit down, please life, throw me bone."  Do you have any idea how awkward this is?  She says something I think is relating to her lunch, but for all I know she's asking me if I've ever fucked a goat (which I haven't, by the way).  All I do is say nod my head and say "yeah."

Back to American jobs and foreigners for a moment.  Have you ever called customer service for Dell, or some other major company, and wondered what a coincidence it is that every person you speak to is from India?  It's not a fucking coincidence, that's where these people are.  Large American companies are outsourcing their customer service work to other countries.  Why spend all that money creating a Customer Support department and go through the hassle of staffing, managing and training.  Just pay them to do it in another country where these people surely have never heard of minimum wage.  How has the government NOT passed a law prohibiting this???  No, we don't have enough people out of work already; let's reduce the number of jobs there are by allowing this work to be done in other countries.  Add that to the number of companies hiring foreigners and sponsoring them for visas (like mine) and it's no wonder so many people are living below the poverty level.  I knew that most of our elected officials were scumbags, but I'm beginning to think that they are just pure evil.  Is there ONE who actually gives a shit about the people who live in this country?  Somebody?  Anybody?

Do I sound bitter?  Sorry, I'm a bit down over the 'ex'.  I was doing pretty good but for some reason I've been thinking about her a lot the past 2 days.  I don't recall exactly what it was that set me off, it had something to do with Key West or marriage.

"I've got no woman I've my own so now I sleep alone, and my heart must roam 'till it finds a home..."