Jacket, I hardly knew ye.

Oh jacket my jacket;
For two years now I have dawned ye
And praised Newport Harbor
That which spawned thee,
Jacket oh jacket lying, lying on my living room floor.
Jacket jacket, why doth thee torment me,
Jacket oh jacket, why doth thee resent me,
Relent relent please
content thee, with my suffering
nevermore.
Unzip unzip thou bastard cloak,
Release thy serpents grip
From around my throat,
Jacket oh jacket, if I could choke
Thee, I would smote thee so.
From the dastardly depths
Of a bastardly hell,
My fair jacket was spawned
By the devil himself,
I took it foolishly
Muleishly
Right off the shelf
Oh what a fool,
I've condemned myself,
In Hades I burn!
Jacket oh jacket I spurn
I spurn thee so!
'Unzip unzip!'
Screams down the river Styx
Clawing, gnawing,
Fighting, biting
Flinching, wincing
Fingernails rip
As I pray I may
I please someday
Fix,
Thou jacket
Yes jacket
You jacket
My jacket
You wicked
You wretched
Bitch.

Coming out...

Well. I finally did it. I started telling people about my blog. Until now, besides strangers, the only people in my life that view it are my sister, her husband (Brizzett), and Ms Cartier (who's own blog inspired this brilliance). Times they are a changin'. You might start noticing some new commentors around here. Don't be afraid. Just don't make eye contact, and don't use large words...such as 'sober.' And we'll all be just fine.

One of the agents at my office kind of discovered my blog once. It was a harrowing experience. From the resource room I start to hear one of the younger agent's banter:

Agent: "Born a genius...what is this? Oh, I think I found Joe's blog."

Joe from across room: Pees myself..."oh don't worry about that, just ignore it"

Agent: Reading outloud from my profile..."'I'm the best looking motherfucker you've ever seen?!" Laughing out loud now (or LOLing for you fucking nerds).

It was about this point another agent started showing interest and my face began getting very very red.

Joe: "Uhh let's errr just uhh..."

Agent: "I'm just going to go and clear this from the internet history."

Joe: "Thank god."

And that was that.


I still haven't shown my parents the blog yet. I think they would enjoy it but I'm waiting until I settle it down a little. So like when I'm dead. Keith, Pat, and Maya all found at at Silver Dollar last Friday. I spend so much time online that I never realized how difficult it is to tell people that my blog is titled "Born A Genius." At least it's difficult to say with a straight face. Even though it is true. Die naysayers. Now after I say anything strange or funny, I get the "that should go on your blog." I decide what goes on the blog you peons! I decide who lives or dies! Do not question my genius! My genius is not to be questioned! Just pay your alms and get to the back of the line.

Grade 'A' Bloggin!

I was just perusing my blog, dilly dallying and reading some old, and not so old posts (ie today's). I've realized that many of my posts resemble the diary of a high school cheerleader. Perhaps it's true what they say, "you are what you eat." Haha, that's disgusting. I'm hungry.

Sunday, bloody Sunday!

Ok, so that last post, about how I haven't been posting, that was supposed to be this post, but I get carried away by the slightest of breezes, or the shiniest little trinkets.

Here is my post about last Sat/Sun, the chain of events was so miserable, it was incredible to be a part of.

'Twas Saturday...8pm...the night was black as the Abyss and cold as yer grandmother's frigid abandoned old cunt. I was about to undo me belt and get ye old EZ cheese when a terrible sound shook the foundation of me humble home. Do dododo do dododo da da da da da. Gyarrrr 'twas the offensive tones of AC/DC's Back in Black...ie my ringtone...sigh. Wow I better stop typing like that or I won't ever finish this. Long story semi-shorter.

Lisa, the Libster and Brie convinced Pat and I to go out to RJD2 at the Holocene. Pat and I take our ritual shot with a beer back before we leave the house. Then we show up early (in reality we were late), they aren't there yet (they were later) so we go have a beer next door at Sassy's (very sassy by the way). They finally show and we all get our tickets right before they sell out. Well, the girls have to go get cash before the doors close so they leave us to the crowds. "Fuuuuck that" I believe were my words. Within 5 minutes Pat and I were back at Sassys. We only had 15 minutes until they closed the doors for RJD2 so we each took 2 more shots of Jack, chugged a beer and headed back next door.

I wish I had brought my camera, but I was wearing my euro jeans and they were bulgy enough. Madjestic (local) opened up and was awesome as always. Lisa convinced me to take another shot and I grabbed a beer...only to find out when we returned that Pat had grabbed 10 beers...gyarr. I remember RJD2 being pretty good. After Pat handed me 2 of those beers my memory cuts out completely. I haven't blacked out like that in a long time. Apparently Pat lost his car key (thank god) and we took a cab home. I don't remember a damn thing after 12:30. Nothing. Bah! That's obnoxious.

Well, Sunday I was supposed to wake up and work for a lady from the office (Leslie). Well she wanted me to help her move furniture and shit that was way out of my job description. She annoyed me into it. So I slept through that.

Then I had to hold an open from 1-4. I got up in plenty of time, though still drunk, I was ready to roll! I started milling about the house and Pat informed me that the car we took a cab home and the car was at the Holocene. No big deal, I'll call a cab. Got cleaned up, called and explained to Les what happened, etc etc. Cab comes and I'm ready to go! My first open. Well we get to the car and the window is smashed out. Great. No big deal. I put a jacket over the glass and hop in! Nothing could bring me down! Full of positive energy...and whiskey. Well I get to the house early, and realize I forgot my lockbox key...shit, I need that to get in. Ah well, I was told she'd most likely still be home if I arrived early, which I did.

"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Nobody."
"Nobody who?"
"Nobody who is going to let me in that god damn house."

I don't think that joke makes sense. So I reach into my pocket to grab my phone and call Pat, to see if he can use his company van to drive me my lockbox key. Oh, what's that, my pocket is empty? Snap! My phone slipped out of my pocket in the cab. No phone, no window, no lockbox key, no problem! I hop into the windowless ride and head on home.

Got home, got the key, got back, opened 'er up and blammo! All systems go. Sure I was still a bit typsy, which later turned into a vicious headache. Sure at times I considered myself an utter failure. Sure I opened the house up a little late. Sure I had no clue what I was doing. But you bet your ass I sure as hell got it done.

And of course within a few hours I decided that it was fucking hilarious. Is it strange that I laugh at my misfortunes?

LKJWEFOIJC

There's been an eery silence throughout my blog this week. Some might say it's because my physical body was slaughtered by irate African pygmies. That they shoved bamboo shoots under my nails, burned the hair from my body, pierced my skin with 10 gauge needles. Then dangled me from the needles in their dark forboding rainforest, where all I could smell was the vile odor of my own burnt hair while the mosquitos, gnats, army ants, and other freakishly oversized insects slowly devoured me alive...but more than likely the itching, the stinging, and the knowledge of my imenent doom would drive me so insane that long before I actually died, my wretched tortured body would cough up my soul in hopes of some sort of reprieve...that may have happened to me. These could be disembodied soul-less hands sputtering and twitching in the throws of death, spewing blood all over my office while they mirraculously randomly type out this blog post with their sporatic sightless movements. That could be. Others might say that I've just been working long hours. More than likely, most would not say anything at all, since there's like 2 people that ever visit this blog regularly. 2 fantastic people is what I meant to say.

PS: The hands need work on the title.

How not to get me to work for you.

1. "Pet" me awkwardly when I've done well.

2. Laugh and shake your head when I come up with new ideas. Accompanying this with phrases such as "silly rabbit" and "ohhh you" really adds to the affect.

3. Tell me to do conflicting things and then when I'm in the process of doing one, tell me I should be doing the other. Do this a lot.

4. Take months to provide a job proposal. When you do write it, make it poorly worded and vague.

5. When I ask questions about said 'proposal,' take months to get back to me with answers, make sure not to answer everything. Remember, "always leave them wanting more;" applies to every situation, no matter what.

6. Make up lists of things for me to do. Instead of simply handing me the list, go over each item in detail. Make sure to explain even the simplest tasks as if I were completely incompetent. Do this often, and make sure there are plenty of colleagues around.

7. Ignore anything you don't want to hear. When I say I am looking for full-time work, offer me part-time. When I say I have my own retirement fund, offer to contribute to a different one. Repeat multiple times.

8. Try to influence my decisions by mentioning my parents. Say things like "I think your mom would want this." If my mother happens to actually be in the room; look at her while you speak to me. Make sure I know that the there is "big-kid" talk going on, and that perhaps I should fetch coffee whilst you decide what's best for me.

9. When I want to meet to discuss something, agree, then cancel. Do this for 3 weeks. When you finally decide to meet with me, send me a letter of the things you'd like to discuss.

10. And finally, if you really want me to give you the old 'F-you,' include this paragraph in your proposal:
"I have talked to outside personnel firms and it is clear I can get a good person to work for me who has administrative assistant skills that are better than yours for less money. And I can get someone who has completed college and had some years of work experience who would be cheaper than what I am proposing to pay you."

Because god damnit your right! You can find someone to organize your shit for less. And who has finished college. You are completely 100% correct. So despite this stellar offer you have taken the time to grace me with, I will have to respond with a firm "no thank you." What's that? Why? You ask. Well, like you said; you can find someone more competent and cheaper than me, yet you still insist on hiring me? Well that's just poor business sense. I'd rather not work in an evironment where that sort of decision making is endorsed.

Run Lolita Run

I've decided to run the Portland marathon next year. It's going to take days of training. Hours of mediocre work. A casual indifference to boredom. And quite possibly, a lot of pot.

Who's coming with me?