Tuesday, October 03, 2006

An incomplete list of persons, places, and objects that can bite me

For the week of October 1st-7th:

1. My headphones, made by a company that shall not be named but whose name sounds a whole lot like Hose - You can seriously take a big chunk from the fattest part of my ass. This is the third pair of headphones in two years to fall apart on me. Sure, I get them replaced for free because I call the customer service line and act all nice, all the while letting them know I could make a big stink about the string of broken headphone incidents I've had over the past two years, and they usually upgrade me to a swankier set each time because I'm all polite and stuff, but this is seriously the last straw. Just because the headphone speakers are made the the most high-falluting technology and stuff doesn't mean the company gets to cut corners and assemble headphones with the cheapest quality plastic a low-wage factory in South Korea can manage. This is the third head set that's plastic has crumbled. What are they using to assemble these things with, hardened play-doh? Damn, just damn!

2. My car stereo - O.k. car stereo, I really don't want to have this talk again. It's been done. It's kind of trite now, but yet I feel we must have it. I can't handle this little passive-aggressive thing you're forcing on me. I just can't. I get that it's your way of proving that the tape player needs love too, but I don't have any tapes any more. I have no love to give, and if you keep it up, interrupting my radio time that I need in order to get through my dreadful commute, well... there's actually not anything I can do but fume in your general direction every time you do it. Heck, I'm not even doing that anymore, you've actually forced me into the fifth stage of grieving regarding your little problem: Acceptance. I've just resigned myself that this is how you're going to act and then I revert into this fantasyland in my brain where I get to go at you with a bat all Office Space-stylee, and then I do the same thing to my headphones (but I can't do that to my headphones, otherwise I can't get a replacement pair). But seriously, stop it. I don't know how, but Fighting Nun somehow forces you into submission and compliance and it usually sticks for a couple of months, until all the sudden it doesn't. Do I have to let Fighting Nun ram you with a stick so you'll stop? Because you know as well as I do that that ramming things with sticks is one of his favorite pastimes and I really don't like that look in his eye when he gets started, but it that's what it takes so that you work all normal like, well, Fighting Nun ramming things with sticks it is.

3. The Giants Management - O.k., yes, the Giants sucked so hard they blew this season. I understand that, but dude. I mean, It's Alou. You should keep him in the clubhouse just for the sound bites alone, not to mention the righteous anger that is enough to get some radio personalities canned, cause seriously. And yes, you're right, your strategy of a veteran player surrounded by other veterans clearly did not work, so by all means, shake some stuff up on the roster, but for the love of little green apples, leave Alou out of it. You know, that mentality really peeves me, that "Oh, we had a phenomenally crappy season, let's get rid of the coach." The coach can only do so much out there in the clubhouse. He shouldn't be blamed because some of our pitching staff has some of the worst luck ever or any other reason. O.k., so when we canned Dusty Baker, he kind of did deserved it because he manages his pitchers pretty crappily, but Alou, in my mind, is a pretty solid coach, who givess some of the reaction shots on camera out of all the coaches I've ever seen(except for Bocci, because that mustache works ten times more than that coach does, except for the time he cut it off, I was all, "Who is that?" and Fighting Nun was "Duh that's Bocci." and then I gasped because the clean shaven look did nothing for his reaction shots), I mean Alou only has really one look but it's one part perplexed, one part angry, one part constipated and all sorts of awesome and I'm going to miss that.

4. Adobe Illustrator and Adobe Photoshop - I just... it's that... You just... HATE! Hatey Hate! Considering throwing a trout in your general direction hate!!! Just Grrrrr! I haven't been this mad at an Adobe product since I learned FrameMaker on my own. And I mean I was mad in those days. Fighting Nun and I would drive through downtown San Jose and I would shake my fist at the Adobe building and mutter "Why, I oughta" and revert into fantasies about storming their building, wielding insults at anyone in my direction like that immortal alien in the HitchHiker books ("You, good sir, and your software are nitwitts. Good Day.") Yes, I realize I have no idea what I'm doing in Photoshop, but see, the thing is, I just did exactly what I wanted to not a two days ago, and now you're telling me that I can't do the exact thing that I did, not 48 hours ago? How? Why? I don't understand. Are you being passive aggressive like my car stereo? Do I have to call Fighting Nun over here to ram a stick at you? I mean, do you really want to be on the recieving end of that? With that look in his eye? I didn't think so.

5. The class I'm taking - Hey class, whatever big chunk that is left that hy headphones didn't take, you're free to have because bite me. This damn class has gotten me all worked up that I can't even sleep a whole night through. And the parameters for some of the projects I'm doing are so loose, that I have no idea what to do. Yes, I get that the point of graphic design is to make something out of a very thin assignment, but throw me a bone here, seriously. I need just a few little morsels to sink my teeth into so that I understand the assignments a little bit better, but no, nothing. It's all, conjure a project out of thin air, see you on Tuesday... Grrrrr. Hate. Bite. Me. Take a fleshy piece of rear end and go away!!! I'll just sit here, assless, seething at you and my car stereo, and everything else. Or, I could have Fighting Nun ram a stick at you... with that look in his eye.

6. My Body - I'm not that freaking old. I just turned 28 for Christ's sake. But yet my body feels all old and rickety. And it hates me. Since I started this class, my body has refused a full night's sleep. My brain just wakes up in the middle of the night, all synapses going, thinking about class, thinking about everything. Just. Going. I mean, the other night, I woke from the dead of sleep with a revelation about... Project Runway. No, really. I mean, WTF? It makes no sense. I love sleep. Love it. I'm very cranky and moody if I don't get my eight hours. I've started taking naps in my car just to cope. So shut up body! I'm tired and I want sleep the whole night and I don't want to wake up to wierd thoughts regarding a reality show I only sort of watch. Let me sleep a full night, or I'll start running. Daily. And I hate running. But I'll do it. Don't test me. And I won't threaten you with Fighting Nun and Ramming Sticks, because I tried that, and that only sort of worked, so I must find an alternate means to will you into submission.

7. The Weather - If my Headphones and the class I'm taking left any fatty tissue on my posterior, well then it's yours. Have at it. Part of the reason I'm pissed off at you, is that the inevitable has happened. The storms are back, marking the end of a rather eventful windsurfing season. Which saddens me. Let's all take a moment of silence. O.k., silence over. Also, you're giving me a sinus headache at the moment. Which means I'm going to be miserable, and crabby, and complainy (like I'm not already, heh) for the next two days because I have my temples will be throbbing out a beat that will sound remarkably like the beat behind "Time to Get Ill" by The Beastie Boys, which means I'll be muttering "What's the time? It's Time to Get Ill" for the next two days until Fighting Nun rams a stick in my direction. So shut up weather, shut up my throbbing temples, and shut up Beastie Boys. It's bad enough that whenever I ask Fighting Nun for the time "Time to Get Ill" is what I hear. Now my temples happen to be meting out that exact rhythem. Grrr Weather *shakes fist* one of these days!

There's more, but I'm too busy suturing my ass checks to complete it.

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