It was either this or a job at the VHS manufacturing plant

So today my boss and I had the final talk in our series of "are you sure you want to go back to school" talks. I am. I took half a day off and filled out all the paperwork to get back in. (Cross your fingers.) I'm really close to a degree, so I'm going to go ahead and get it. What prompted this was the fact that I realized that I really don't want to be an editor. I don't like being in charge of anything. Then there's that whole "too nice/laid back thing." While it makes me a big hit with the bake sale old ladies, it doesn't do much for me in other aspects of journalism.

I was watching the news earlier and they were talking about how newspaper jobs were down with not much sign of positive change. Something about this new "internet" thing. Let's face it. In less than 5 years, newspapers are going to be over. There's really no need. The cost of running an entirely online paper is ridiculously low. You eliminate all printing costs, which are pretty hefty.

So that's that. I'm going back to school next semester barring some crazy setback (knock on my imitation wood desk.) I have no real plan other than that. No place to live, no job. That's how I do things, though. Backup plans are for old ladies and retarded kids. If this doesn't work out, I'll just go back to being a hand model.

Letters that need to be written

Letter 1

Dear Animal Planet,
Steve Irwin is dead. He's not coming back. Are you to blame for his death since he probably died while filming something for you? Probably. That's ok, though. People die. What people don't do is watch the new version of his show with his wife. The only reason people watched him in the first place was because he was a crazy foreigner that chased animals around and (almost) always avoided injury. His wife? Well, she's an American lady from like New York or some shit. If I wanted to watch a woman mess around with animals, I'd watch Jeff Corwin (or Kenny's mom's "show.") And don't even get me started on his daughter. What an annoying piece of shit she is. And you gave her her own show? What the fuck? My dad died. I didn't get shit. Given, he wasn't mauled by some underwater sea creature, but still. I should get something. So, Animal Planet, unless you can invent a time machine and tell Steve he might want to pack his stingray retardant wet suit before he heads out, I don't want to watch the show anymore. It is a nice touch that you have his wife write in a diary about how much she misses her husband, though. Maybe you can reel in a few viewers with sympathy. That should work for a couple more episodes.


Letter 2

Dear Yahoo!,
Why do you keep hiring dumbasses to write "relationship and dating" columns? Fuck! I need advice here. I'm at the end of my rope. The last one titled "When women date men who are less attractive" got me a little interested. Then I read it. Awesome. You give examples and then explain that for this to work, the poor ugly bastard probably needs to make a lot of money. I knew that. That doesn't help me. I'm too lazy to get a good job that pays me a lot of money. I need a scheme. I'm looking for a column that teaches me how to mix some sort of potion or a more effective way to apply chloroform. I don't need to know that I need to make more money. That helps me none. Who do you think your audience is for those columns? Attractive guys who are "just wonderin'" Fuck no. I'm your audience. The guy who lives with is mom still and flips a coin when he wakes up to help him decide whether or not he's going to drink the stuff under the sink. The guy who gets excited when a new flavor of doritos comes out. The guy who recently mourned the loss of his little furry masked bandit of the forest. I'm your fucking audience. Doesn't it sound like I need a little more than "you need to make a lot of money?" I need something along the lines of "here's a magic spell." You've disappointed your audience, yahoo. I could poop on my keyboard and the pressure on the keys from said shit could craft a better column than what I just read. That lady seems to be as much of an expert on dating as I am on diet and exercise. I know of it, but I'm not too familiar. Sigh.

Look who's not dead. It's me!

Work has been rough lately. My inexperience isn't really helping things out. My boss has been on my ass about all kinds of things. I'm in a bit over my head, I think. I can't remember if I've written about this before, but she told me that I'm too laid back and not very aggressive. She told me that I need to be mean. I need to be "in your face" to ever be successful at this job. That's not me, though. I'm not a mean guy. I'm a super laid back kind of guy. Apparently that's not a good thing in this job. I don't know that I want to become aggressive. Sure, being a passive douche has its downside, but it's who I am. Every time she comes in my office, I get the feeling like I'm about to be fired.

Not to make excuses, but my schooling didn't exactly prepare me to be thrown in as a managing editor of a newspaper. I never learned if there was a "style" to interview people. I ask softball questions when I probably should be digging for more, but truth be told, I don't really care about digging for more. There are a lot of things about journalism I don't agree with. Wrecks are one. The sensationalism of wreck pictures has always pissed me off. People see one and for ten or fifteen seconds, they are entertained/enthralled/whatever, but for the families and friends of people who were in those vehicles, that's an image they didn't need to see. Everybody knows what a fucking wrecked car looks like. I don't agree with showing pictures.

Anyway, (I'm stealing this phrase from a guy I work with) I said all that to say this: I'm re-enrolling in good ol' SFA. Think of it as me staying a step ahead of what feels like my eventual firing. It's not that I'm doing a bad job or anything, but I just don't think I'm what they're looking for. I don't really care about small town politics either. I wanna write about fart jokes and how much I hate things. I want to make fun of things. I don't want to report on some county election. I thought I did until I actually got the chance to do it. So going back to school will allow me to get my degree so maybe I can choose a job instead of hoping somebody will hire me. Plus, I'd learn a little more about journalism (if that's what I really want to do.) I'm also close to a degree in English. Don't know what the fuck I'd do with that, but it's something, right? My family doesn't really think this is a good idea, but they usually don't think things I do are a good idea. Like being born. They weren't so big on that. I tried to have a serious conversation with my mom earlier about my life and how I've been feeling lately and the possibility that I could leave one day and not come back. She clearly rolled her eyes, although she said she didn't, so I just walked out. It blows having a family that doesn't listen to shit ever.

Another thing about me is that I don't take critcism very well. I don't get pissed or anything, but I get discouraged. If I think I'm doing a bad job, things tend to snowball and it just gets to the point where I don't want to do it anymore. That hasn't happened so much in this case, but my boss keeps trying this whole "tough love," "showing me the ropes" kinda thing and I hate it. I don't respond well to tough love. Also, I'm a follower. I have no desire to be "the guy," the leader. So maybe the editor job wasn't such a great idea. I liked it at first because I got the chance to write. I love to write, but the other things that go along with it, I don't like so much. The pre-meeting bullshitting with people I don't know just to be seen. Small talk about some ordinance passed in a town I don't even live in. Just things like that.

Back to me not being aggressive. Apparently people notice. We had a Thanksgiving kinda thing at work where we all sat around the break room table and ate together. It's the first time we've ever done that. They asked me something about my family. How big, stuff like that. I told them that my dad worked a lot and passed away when I was 17, so it was mostly my mom, my three sisters and me. Somebody said, "So, you were mostly raised by women?" I said yeah and the look on their faces when I said that was like they'd all just simultaneously just solved a riddle or something. It kinda pissed me off. I'm fuckin' manly, goddammit! Right?

BOOSH!

I started to write this really long, philosophical post about how my life is pretty shitty and there's trouble at work and how sometimes I seriously think about driving my car into the river because I feel like nobody really listens to me, but then I took some pain pills to cheer me up. They did! I think I'm going to become a junkie. It seems fun and I don't see anything negative coming from it.

So Iv'e decided to take this post in a new direction. I was thinking about it earlier and I decided that Alicia Keys and Olivia Munn would be my ideal threesome. With those two, you basically have all your ethnic backgrounds covered. Plus they're both super hot. Who's your ideal threesome? Comment. I'd like to hear. Or don't. I really don't give a hippo's fuck. Have great night everybody.

What if I'm the asshole?

I was thinking today that maybe I'm the asshole and the girl who may or may not have blown me off isn't. What if she really did have to go? Maybe she had to take her mom to dialysis, but thought she'd message me quickly first? These are all possibilities, I think.

That poor, poor girl. On top of the fact that she has to take care of her sick, kidneyless mother, she also has to be in the deep pit of despair that comes with me ignoring her. What kind of monster am I? A sexy one? Oh yeah. I forgot.

Maybe some things are worse off than I am.

Last night I was laying in bed watching tv and doing one of my favorite things to do while laying in bed watching tv. No, not masturbating (much). I was playing a game I like to call "find somebody worse off than me so I can feel better about myself." When you have non-existent self-esteem, it helps to find people that have shittier things happening to them than you do.
Candidate #1 was a couple who had a baby two years ago. The baby was born with a rare genetic degenerative condition. It was basically in its best condition the moment it was born and had been going gradually downhill since. The parents talked about the impending death of their baby with the same tone as somebody would talk about closing on a new house. I really sat and thought about it. These people had their first and only child and there was something wrong with it from the beginning. From the moment this baby was born, they knew it would die in a couple of years. I really sat and thought about these parents and what they must be going through. I waited for it. I waaaaaited. Nothing. I don't know what it's like to have a kid. Sure, I felt bad for them, but I wasn't feeling bad enough to make me feel better.

Candidate #2 was that guy who died while running that race. I changed the channel pretty quick. I've ran like three times in my life, and all three times something was chasing me. Be it dog or bee or my drunken, slightly aroused uncle that was babysitting me, at least something was chasing me. This guy was running for FUN. Who does that? People who die. That's who.

Then I found it. Candidate #3 was the winner. It was on the discovery channel. It was a cape buffalo or whatever those things are called that remind me of Whoopi Goldberg. This cape buffalo was the dominate bull in a small herd. For some reason, a pride of lions singled out this particular buffalo as their evening meal. The bull was scrappy, though, and wasn't going down without a fight. The lions attacked again and again, but their teeth and claws couldn't get through it's thick, leathery hide (just like Whoopi Goldberg.) The only thing the lions could bite/claw was the buffalo's butthole. After about 10 minutes of strategic ass attacks by the lions, the buffalo had enough. He spun around to face the three or four lions that were attacking him and prepared to make one last stand. Then, out of fucking nowhere, this huge bull comes over and mounts the wounded bull and sodomizes him right in his lion-ravaged pooper. The narrator comes in and says something like, "sensing weakness, the rival male mounts the dominate male to solidify his new place in the herd." Ouch. He manages to eventually fight off the homo usurper and turns his attention back to the lions. They gnaw his butthole a few more times, but he stays on his feet. Then the fucking other bull comes back and rams him from the side, knocking him down. The lions pounce on him and bite his throat. The camera zooms out. His leg kicks a couple of times and then it's all over.

That's when I realized that while I may have my problems, they are nowhere near this buffalo's. Sure I have my ups and downs, but I've never had the inner part of my ass batted around by gigantic cats. I can also say that I've never had a huge buffalo dong in me. Knock on wood.