Fuck wit’ the future

I am by no means a tech geek. But if I had my choice, at this very moment, I would much rather be in Las Vegas, getting gadget-chubs while prancing through the Consumer Electronics Show instead of putting in a 8 hour bid in this prison called a job. Just like any other brick blooded man, I looooove shiny new toys. Ones that bleep and blink and flash and buzz are even better. This year in particular, my interest is heightened because of the recent release of the LTE technology over at the Verizon Wireless clubhouse. I’m dying to see what new cell phones are going to come out. I love my Blackberry to death. I think BBM is THEE best messenger and it’s probably the sole reason I’m reluctant to switch brands but the guys at RIM… they need a kick in the nuts or the back of the neck or somewhere. Screw a tablet. Phones niggas! PHONNNNES. CATCH THE HELL UP! My renewal date is approaching and I’m itching to get something fancy.


…and as of 40 minutes ago, this is in the lead of the race. The Motorola Droid Bionic.

-wiggles fingers in the air rapidly-

GIMME GIMME GIMME

The man in the mirror

It’s a little after 2pm and I’m at work, sitting in a cubicle. Normally, I’d either be sleep, in my personal cubicle reading a book or on the toilet. Notice how doing work is not one of the things I would be doing at this time. Seriously. The contracting company I work for has us do yearly self-evaluations. I will never understand the purpose of this, considering how I rate myself will really have no bearing on the size of the “Merit increase” I may, or may not, receive. That’s not to say that they won’t take into account my honest opinion of the quality of work I do, given that it falls somewhat inline with what my supervisor and managers say, but to be totally honest, if there wasn’t already a predetermined format to how I am suppose to do this evaluation, my shit would literally say:

A monkey could do that work I do. But that’s not to say I don’t feel underpaid and mildly over-worked. Everyone(everyone meaning everyone that matters [everyone that matters meaning all the white people in charge]) likes me and I haven’t been on the receiving end of any disciplinary actions. So, let me get that phat raise and let’s continue with this (lopsided) partnership(..until I hit the megamillions or something).

Now of course, everything in parentheses would most likely be omitted from the final draft but, yeah, that’s basically how it would look. I could have completed it within the time frame it took me to think up, type, edit and publish this entry, but whatever. It’s not due for another 2 days anyway. Now, where is my drool catching stack of napkins…

Thank You for flying Delta

12 days. 8 flights. 4 different countries. What an adventure. And I’d do it all over again. Even the almost misplaced luggage, hauling ass through Stansted to just barely catch a plane to Amsterdam (it was about to pull off the tarmac!) and the crying toddler-infant combo on the 8 hour flight back home. I had no expectations for this trip, other than to have fun and enjoy my company. I feel safe in saying I did both. The scenery, the people, the food… oh man the food! Between sleeping in and all the walking/site-seeing, most of the time I was only eating 2 times a day at the max but those meals were always a treat and never a let down. That includes the 2 am falafel with the “HEY SURPRISE I’M A PICKLE IN YOUR FALAFEL SANDWICH” pickle (I do not like pickles). I have tons of pictures to post, so that’ll happen later on in the week, although I’m a lazy bum so I’ll probably only post a handful. Bite me. Maybe I’ll be fully recovered from my vacation by then. Oh the irony.

Wings’ n Things

In 72 hours or so I’ll be somewhere over Europe. It’ll be my first time traveling internationally, not including that wack ass cruise to Bermuda where I ran up a bar tab of 300 bucks. And I didn’t buy one broad a drink. Crazy. I’m bottling my glee. But I’m not downplaying how anxious I am. My luggage is packed. Books have been purchased. Ipod, locked and loaded. Alla’dat. Now I’m just trying to figure out what coat to wear.

Speaking of outerwear, this fine ho finally arrived today. BUTTER. SOFT.

gahlblblblblblblblblbblbblllbb

Cooked my first pork roast. Normally, I’d say don’t trim the fat because it houses a lot of flavor but when doing a stuffed roll, trim it.

Also tried my hand at sweet potato gnocchi. It came out ok, but now I know how I can improve on it.

Save it for the birds

Dear Popeyes Chicken, Inc.,

About 15 years ago, I bit into one of your drumsticks, only to discover that it was not fully cooked and, well to make a long story short, I said fuck y’all niggas. Fast forward to 2008 or so, I decided to let you back in my life. It was a good-n-greasy enjoyable reunion. I especially love your very economical strip combo meal with an extra biscuit. The biscuits! The fucking biscuits. Anyway, in my last recent trips to your establishment, I have been either shorted on a strip, a whole order of fries or my oh so necessary extra biscuit. I paid for that shit niggas. GIMME MY SHIT. I don’t understand the difficulty in making sure an order is fulfilled. Do you purposely hire people who are 7 brain cells away from being knuckle draggers? This letter is my global announcement to let you know that I will boycotting you and your gotdamn chicken. Peace fuckers.

Sincerely, Me.

Gotta get that paper dawg

I do my best reading on the toilet. Is that a universal thing? Is that why magazine racks for bathrooms were created? Is THAT what the cover on the toilet tank is flat for? So you can stack reading materials on it? If it was rounded, they’d surely slide off. In the process of doing some minor research on the signs, causes and cures for hemorrhoids, I read that the amount of time a person should spend sitting on the pot is between 3 and 5 minutes. I don’t know about anyone else but I sometimes get so sucked into a good read that I lose track of time, and become completely unaware of the lack of blood circulating to my feet. THE PINS. THE FUCKING PINS. The first medical thriller I read, The Fifth Vial by Michael Palmer, had me burning up 25-30 pages a spurt (I read in spurts, not long 30-40 minute sessions, my ass cramps easily) and sometimes a spurt can last longer than the suggested time for a healthy shit. What is a guy to do? I hate pausing in the middle of a chapter. But I also don’t want a pain in the ass. Literally.