New Wave Mustache.

As much as Celia insists it would be horrifying, I can’t help but wonder if I could pull off a nice thick ‘stache. Sure, I would have to quite literally go years without shaving, but I think it could really send my look in a new direction. Straight to the top of the corporate ladder! Finally get the respect I always thought I deserved! More attention from the opposite sex! More attention from the same sex! All because I took a chance, and started grooming a small portion of my upper lip. It’s amazing what a tiny change can do to your appearance.

God Bless October. Hyper-sensitive parents, making their Ritalin-ed out kids Trick-or-Treat at 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday. More political ads than you could ever imagine. The Packers with a losing record. No matter what though, I refuse to let anything ruin my favorite month of the year. Do whatever you can to enjoy October. Unplug your television if you must. Sleep with the windows open, and cover yourself with 10 blankets. Make a point to pet at least 20 different cats a day. I don’t care what you do, just have a good time doing it. I plan on working hard for a couple weeks, settling in to the new apartment and whatnot, and finally getting around to another long-term writing project. At first I was thinking about another screenplay, but I really want to try to get something published. I have better odds of selling a book than a screenplay. I also have better odds of being kicked in the right nut by a Saber-Toothed Tiger than getting anything published at all. I must try, though.

Today, I made a list of the “Least Popular Halloween Costumes” for a co-worker who was making a “Halloween” display board outside of our office. Here’s a sample:

Eli Whitney

Zombie Eli Whitney


Martin Van Buren

Zombie Martin Van Buren


Zagnut Bar

Zombie Riboflavin

While I knew that this list wouldn’t be used in the display, I made it anyways because I like to amuse myself.

While I don’t like to talk about work very much anymore, I felt the need to share something with you. Tomorrow I start training for a Program Assistant 3 position that’s going to be empty in a week. They want me to do the job while they find someone to do it full time. My job description gives them the right to make me do pretty much whatever they want me to, for as long as they want me to. Allow me to simplify this for you further:

1. I make X amount of money as a Program Assistant 1.

2. I will be doing the job of a Program Assistant 3, who makes Y dollars more than me.

3. I will continue to make X amount of money indefinitely.

By subtracting the amount of money I should be making (Y) from the amount that I will be making (X), you will find the exact amount by which I’m being played like a little bitch.

The idea is that I will try for the job and be promoted, but there are a dozen more qualified people working with me who will snatch this job up the first chance they get. This means that I’m basically keeping the seat warm for the next person to take my job and make more money than me. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it, but hope to Jesus that they want to keep me in that position, which they certainly will not. I’m currently taking the necessary steps for me to be able to be promoted, should they think that highly of me. Honestly though, I’m pretty sure I should just get nice and comfortable here in the mailroom.

(As a side note, I really do enjoy my job, and feel very fortunate for the opportunity to work here. I’m also taking proper legal action with my Communist Dance Party staff of lawyers to not get fired because of this page. Enough talk about work.)

It was 36 degrees this morning when I went outside. I could see my breath, and thought that there was frost on my windshield. It’s been crisp and beautiful for a week now, and it will stay that way for at least another week. You can be sure that I’m taking a long walk tonight in Sun Prairie. Make the most of this month, because you’re going to miss it when it’s gone.

Back For The Attack!


No new posts in 7 days makes one weak.

Sorry about that, kids. Real life has a way of butting in every now and then, putting funny pictures and ween jokes on the back burner. I’m sure you’ve all been busy too. For the sake of full disclosure, here’s what I’ve been up to:

1. Moving my ass off.

This month-long excursion is nearing the beautiful end. Within days, I’ll be able to sit down and write again, and make myself a sandwich without having to drive across the street to my fridge. My back should feel better, and the cats can get down to ruining our new furniture.

2. Working my ass off.

My job is the same 40 hour week it’s always been, but now it’s been transformed into a real pain in the chute. I’m currently doing the jobs of FOUR, count ’em, FOUR people. Next week, that number will move to 5. Granted, I’m only doing a small portion of these 5 jobs, but they add up to a serious bleeding ulcer in my book. It used to be that my saving grace was that soon I’d be trying to write for a living. The move has really put a dent in this, and knocked me months off schedule. My movie is held up, our friends are moving all over the damn state, and I’m still waiting for my probation to be up.

3. Worrying my ass off.

For me and my wife, things are changing for us at a rapid pace. Moving out can depress anyone, but now we’re having family matters to deal with. Celia recently lost her Grandfather, and my side of the family is no healthier. Coming from a young family, death is an issue I have very limited experience with. I don’t wish to become more experienced in it, but it’s inevitable. You have to deal with these things as they arise, as you could never possibly prepare for them. One thing I’ve found helps a lot is to have at least one person with whom to confide in. That’s all you really need, and it can make a big difference. Don’t bother trying to run from the train, it’s going to run you over eventually, just accept it and get as ready as you can.

4. Starving my ass off.

I’ve somehow managed to survive on a 500 calorie-a-day diet. I haven’t done it to lose weight, or for some religious right of passage either. I just skip breakfast, have microwave pasta and a diet soda for lunch, and nothing for dinner. I call it the “No Money, Too Lazy, Can’t Cook” diet. Look for my new book out by Christmas.

In amongst the angst, there are a few good things abuzz. First off, HOORAY FOR AUTUMN! This is without a doubt, my most favorite, beautiful, wonderful time of year ever. From now to mid-November, if I’m walking around outside, I’ll be happy. The glow of fall disintegrating to the desolate cold of December is like watching an entire life cycle in 2 months. I love it, I love it, I love it. Bust out the light jackets, shaggy hair and emo records, because nothing beats a Wisconsin Autumn. I apologize for my 12-year-old girl spazz out, but I just really need something to look forward to right now.

F! A! L! L!

Fall Is Just Swell! (Sing aloud with me.)

Have a great weekend. Maybe I’ll see you, but I doubt it.

Ryan Jay-Z

White Collar Concussion.


This is what it looks like when you get punched in the mouth.

More specifically, this is what it looks like when you get hit in the mouth with a steel rod.

While working in the mailroom this week, I attempted to lift an industrial dolly straight up into the air in an attempt to move it. This dolly weighed at least 80 pounds, and could transport a car if it had to. To make a dumb mistake even dumber, I tried to do this while nursing a current back injury. I lifted with all my might, the steel handles detached themselves from the dolly, and nailed me in the face.

I stumbled back a few steps, almost going unconscious. When I was younger, I received a concussion at the hands of an aluminum baseball bat and a fat former friend. This felt exactly the same way. Shaking off the cobwebs and feeling the blood start to pour out of my swollen mouth, I made a beeline for the bathroom.

I thought I was going to need stitches. There was a thick gash from where my lips met my teeth. Had I been hit any higher, I would have lost a few of them. I rinsed and spit blood out of my mouth for at least 20 minutes in an attempt to ward off infection and swallowing all of it. Who says you can’t get hurt in a white-collar job? Just because I work in “Management Services” doesn’t mean I can’t make a dumb-ass mistake and knock myself out every once in a while!

Sweet merciful crap, did that hurt like Hell. And for the sake of being a pansy, this picture was taken a full 12 HOURS after the incident. The swelling had gone down considerably, and I stopped crying long enough for the missus to snap a photo. It looked much worse.

I have a mouth full of scars from another earlier injury involving a microphone and my braces. I got hit in the mouth with the microphone I was using, and the braces dug themselves into my lips. I can still feel the imprint of the brackets when I run my tongue along the bottom of my mouth.

What have we learned about me? I’m clumsy, and I get hit in the head a lot.

Now you know.

Stairs Make A Man Mean.

We’re moving!

Slowly but surely, we’re transferring everything we own from one building to another. We’ve been fighting, sweating, swearing, breaking things, cutting our arms to shreds, drinking plenty of fluids and fighting some more. On the contrary, the notion of doing it on our own justifies this Labor Day Weekend nightmare. We’re getting there though, and will have it done by the end of the month.

I’m well accustomed to moving. Since the age of 9, I’ve been bouncing around from house to house, scattering possessions and pitching heirlooms into the trash. When you have to load and unload boxes of things you never knew you had, you start to wonder why you have it in the first place. Make no mistake about it, as much as I attempt to live lightly, I own a lot of crap. We’ve been looking forward to this weekend for such a long time, as we were going to buckle down and kick some moving ass.


(Image sized down to lessen the full blow of the haggardness.)

I’m beat.

It’s 90 without the humidity, the steps are 7 inches wide, and FOR THE LOVE OF CRAP, WHY DO WE OWN SO MANY HEAVY THINGS! From now on, we buy NOTHING that weighs more than 18 pounds. I’m a reasonable guy, but I’ve got to set some ground rules, Goddammit. We’ve already put a significant gouge in the wall. I have blisters. A treadmill fell on my pinkie toe. I can’t wait to finish moving, but Celia might be living there by herself while I’m up in traction.

(Moving without trucks

Makes a couple say bad things

Like, “I hate to move”.)

Enough of this moving business, I’ve got other things to focus on this week. Like not losing my job. The Wisconsin Department of Regulation and Licensing may not know it yet, but they’re putting a dangerously underqualified man in charge for the next 4 days. (Thank you very much, Kim!) Preparing to run the front desk is similar to the night before Christmas, only with more vomiting. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t think about anything rational. My crippling fear of failure, mixed with my crippling failure success rate, means that I will lose about 15 pounds by Friday. I’m going to be okay though. I can always look forward to coming home and relaxing in my half-empty, torn up home for a minute or 2, before I start moving things again.

It’s quarter to 9, and I’m going to bed.

My Day Off.

“So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized that ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that’s the worst day of my life.”

“What about today? Is today the worst day of your life?”


“Wow, that’s messed up.”

“I realized that we don’t have a lot of time on this earth. We weren’t meant to spend it this way. Human beings weren’t meant to sit in little cubicles, staring at computer screens all day, filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about mission statements.”

I spent my entire day off counting down the minutes until Labor Day weekend.

How did you spend my day off?