Sweating the Small Stuff

One of these days I’m going to slip at work. Instead of saying, “Have a nice day!” or “Thanks for choosing us!” I’m going to loose my mind and say something to the effect of: “Next time you have a thought, make sure to call your doctor: he’ll want to know you’re slipped out of the coma.” But, they probably won’t get it.

It’s the small stuff. Sometimes it is stuff no one else even notices. I can handle the big problems, because they can be fixed. Everyone notices the big problems and wants to fix them. But everyone says you’re crazy or nitpicky when you go bat shit insane because someone took the last coffee pack and didn’t tell you and now everyone’s annoyed with you because you didn’t order more. I try hard to do the best I can and keep to myself, in everything: life, job. But this small stuff is slowly chipping away at my very soul; soon I’ll have enough pieces to make a horcrux.

I’m sweating buckets of small stuff. If you sit in line at McDonalds for five minutes and then get to the speaker and still don’t know what you want: please die. They have… hamburgers. If you like Avatar because of its awesome 3D and original story: go Google Pocahontas and then go outside, look around and realize everything you see is in 3D, why is it more awesome when you box it down and put it on a movie screen? If you drive ten under the speed limit in light rain and twenty under the speed limit in light snow, please drive thirty under the speed limit off a cliff. If you like Twilight, if you think the books are well written, if you think the movies should be nominated for awards: I don’t know you. Vampires do not sparkle.

Dear old people: learn to use computers; if it kills you, you probably weren’t that far from death anyways. If your name is ridiculous and made up, because your parents were drunk when they conceived you and high when they named you, go change it; no one is stopping you. Teachers, you get summers off, holiday breaks, weekends off, snow days, spring break and are generally out of the school building by at least four-thirty. Stop whining, you have a great job! Guy with huge lift kit on his truck, you can jack that sucker up all you want buddy; it will never make your penis bigger. Speaking of impotent, retard hill jacks- if your house looks like an abandoned meth lab and you have four starving kids that don’t love you: yet you own a really nice pimped out car, a 72 inch TV, fifteen dogs, every season of The Dukes of Hazard on DVD and Blu-ray or have a tattooed map of Azeroth on your ass, I have no sympathy for you or your hepatitis.

And I haven’t even scratched the surface.

Dump the Twitter

My wife thinks the strange, incoherent thoughts running through my head would be even better via microblog. Thus, I present to you, @Dumptheblog, my twitter feed. I'll try this out for a few weeks, along side the regular blog and see how it goes. The side bar will also have the latest updates embedded in the blog itself so you don't have to put forth any more effort that you lazy bums do already. Anyways, I have to go and start tweeting. I feel so dirty.

Feb-R-uary

Seriously February, you suck. Your short, and have letters you don't need. You have an extra day every now and then, what the hell's up with that? You're cold and can only muster two stupid holidays, that aren't really even holidays. No one likes you February, not even people born in you.

And furthermore, what’s up with the Super Bowl being in February the last few years? As if the season isn’t long enough. What next, they start playing the college National Championship on January 10th? I mean the NFL is already trying to add two more games to the schedule. Madness. Before long Football season is going to be just like NASCAR and Golf, does anyone know when their seasons actually end? I think they get a long weekend off so something.

I don’t generally side with the babyish over paid athletes who play a game and make more money than I’ll ever even see, but here I may agree. When I ran in high school and college, my best days were after long rest between races. I hated it when we had short rest or more meets than usual, and Cross Country and Track are non-contact sports. I mean has anyone seen Jerome Bettis try to walk lately? No? That’s because he can’t. Now imagine what two more games a year might have done to him. Maybe in fifteen to twenty years when all these guys start dieing in their fifties someone will ask if it’s a good idea to pummel into each other eighteen to twenty weekends out of the year.

We're All Fine

In the mind-numbing course of my average day, I am forced to make absurd small talk with my customers. It’s not that I don’t occasionally enjoy these short, mostly forgotten interactions; they just seem fake and unnecessary. We generally chat about the weather or some other completely dull topic which has no bearing on what we are doing there in the first place. I work inside all day; I don’t really care what the weather is like because I’m outside long enough to get to and from my car and back to the safety of my little cave of steel. Other times their speech is such jabberwocky I revert to the simple and effective smile and nod. If you’re unfamiliar with this strategy I’ll explain: when approached by the gibbering offender and some common understanding cannot be reached, you smile at them and nod as they speak, feigning comprehension. It’s best not to look completely befuddled as you do this.

Anyways, the rare occasion happened the other day where a customer engaging in small talk actually led me to coherent thought. I was probably picking my nose or some other useless activity to get me through the painful day so I can go home and dread the next painful day when the customer approached. I greeted her and she asked me how I was. I said fine and reflected the question back, to which she answered: “Fine, I have to be.”

Fine, I have to be. That got me thinking. When was the last time you asked someone that and they said, “Well just terrible! I lost my cell phone in the toilet because I caught myself in my nipper this morning after I got done with some of the most painful and profuse diarrhea I’ve ever had and now my car won’t start because a colony of mice has crawled into it and set up a casino and tracks.” Yeah, you’ve never heard that, everyone is always fine, good or okay, even when their not. Are we afraid to tell people how we really feel? Or are we afraid to tell people the truth and fine out they didn’t really care in the first place. I guess we are all just being polite because we don’t think anyone wants to hear about our problems; we are probably right. So I guess we are all fine, because we have to be.


P.S. In case you were wondering, I'm going to make Thursday my normal post day from now forward. So unless I have some sort of time specific post you'll know when to check back.

dump.

Bescumber

Hello, my name is Daniel. When you first meet me you'll probably think I'm an asshole, until you get to know me and find out I'm just a little socially backwards; until then, suck it. If you don't like me because you never took the time to get to know me, please do me a favor and keep it to yourself. Please don't call my damned boss and tell her you don't like me, what's that going to prove? I hate idiotic, self centered, turd munching, shrimp boating, fart sniffing, rat fink, low life, gerrymandering, retarded, soulless, dickless, classless, fat, carpet bagging, tit sagging, microphallic, underwear staining, ninnyhammer, pieces of vain filth who get pleasure out of causing trouble for others. Please, get in a car accident. I mean seriously who is so bored they call in to complain because the person who waited on them didn't smile big enough? Call me cold and unfriendly? I'll show you cold and unfuckingfriendly...

First thing tomorrow morning I'm going to call the doctor and make an appointment with a plastic surgeon. I need to put a permanent smile on my face so people don't walk by me and ask if I'm just an unhappy person anymore. Seriously, who stands around when they aren't doing anything and smiles. That's just weird, you NEVER trust a person who always smiles.

Deep breath... I'm sorry about that, but not really.

dump.