kkktookmybabyaway

No, I think it's plenty queered up as is, although I certainly don't help matters.

You'll probably hear this a million times, but broadcasting is a tough field to crack into -- I never got into the TV/Radio aspect of this industry because you have no chance to discuss a story at length; with print you have a better chance to tell a story. From my brief experiences with television broadcasting, there's a TON of prepwork before the cameras start rolling.

Well that's the excuse used when little Bobby stabs his sister with a knife, or when he bodyslams some other kid; they didn't know any better. Curious to know what "sexual content" consists of, not to mention "offensive language."

I wouldn't have been high or drunk.

I pretty much eliminated the relationships from my high school days. Oddly enough, I got a call from one guy just now who I hadn't spoken to in at least 8 years, and another one I've kept in touch with over the years was one of my groomsmen.

The problem with going to college is that you will learn a bunch of unnecessary garbage. However, in many industries if you don't get that sheet of paper (diploma) you won't be considered for employment. In my field I find it hilarious that many of the old-timers in my industry (Journalism and Communications, with a concentration in Print) got their gigs while in high school with no formal education. Now it's imperative for any aspiring person in this field to have a degree and a buttload of clips. If you are a year or two into your college experience and are still unsure of where you want to go with your major, this might make you feel better. My half-brother went to a college in Florida in 1987 to become a pilot. He has since changed his major more times than I can remember (I think he finally got something in the field of biology). He then went to medical school and became a pediatrician last year. Don’t hesitate to ask us old folk questions like the ones posed in this thread; that’s what we’re here for – and we won’t even bitch about how much more expensive things are now as opposed to the cost of living back when we were young with hopes and dreams.

Good luck. Just about every sports fan dreams of being a PBP broadcaster at one point in their life (for me it was during my 11th-12th grade of high school). Are you interested in any other areas of the field or just that?

• Guys in long-term relationships will appreciate this one. So yesterday the better half and I were driving around to a few stores. We stopped in this place close to our house that recently opened up a Sam’s Club. The former highlight of this shopping plaza used to be a Wal-Mart, but it got moved down the road a bit and now a Sam’s Club was taking up the place. Don’t ask why they just didn’t build a Sam’s where the newer Wal-Mart was constructed; I’m not. As we pulled in the plaza parking lot, I looked around to see if any new stores were being added to this place. One of them was a dollar store – I can’t remember its name. I mentioned this to Mrs. kkk, who then scolded me and said that store has always been there. I then pointed to the big banner on the building’s exterior that read, “Grand Opening” and was told “that didn’t matter because there has always been a dollar store there.” Yes dear. Later on that day we went into Kohl’s because her one friend is about to pop out another kid. This of course means the better half is going to spend 30 minutes looking at every baby outfit in stock. I never understood getting new clothes for babies because they will be growing out of them soon enough, or they are going to throw up/crap/pee all over these over-priced outfits. As I stood there listening to some brat playing this “sing along” device, I knew it was time to head over to another part of the store. I said I was going over to the cooking section and high-tailed it out of there. Although I bought some vacuum bags for food storage (25 percent off, baby) I was a bit disappointed that they were out of those space-saving storage containers. They’ve been pimped on TV as saving cabinet space and come in three different sizes. I bought some for the holiday season because they were on sale, and they were a pretty good buy. Before I had a plethora of food storage containers scattered throughout the place and I could never find the right lid or cover to fit the container I wanted to use. Fuck I’m getting old when I think this sort of thing is worthy of being typed up. Well, at least I’m not talking about my fiber intake and outtake … yet. • I’m thinking of adding a new feature that will appear every now and then (re: when I get bored of writing my usual stupid shit). If you want my take on a topic/issue just shoot me off a PM. And, no, I don’t know if the doctor dropped me on my head when I was born, so that one is out of the way. Blog Plugs • When he’s not rewriting history, Bored gave his opinion on NCAAs conference tournaments: He doesn't like them. I don’t follow college sports, but I watch the NCAA March Madness tournament. If conferences want to have some hippie post-regular season tournament, then let them. If anything, these tournaments seem to be a nice tune-up for the big tournament, and plus if some bubble team underachieved a bit in the regular season, they have the opportunity to make up for it by winning their conference tournament. Regarding “home court” advantages some teams have, eh, I really don’t care. Rotate the settings, but let them play. Oh, and I don’t care about this hippie World Baseball Tournament, so your lineup looks fine to me. • Lovecraft321 may not agree with me on politics, but we can agree on making fun of college hippies. When I used to live at Sappy Valley, these types were always in the middle of any demonstration, from legalizing drugs to lifting the Cuba embargo, and often made for great entertainment. However, instead of calling them “hippies” I prefer the term “pseudo hippie.” Basically, a pseudo-hippie is someone who protests the policies of a certain country (think sweatshops in some third-world country) but then isn’t able to pick out that country on a map. Another sign of pseudo-hippiness is when one of these cretins drive their parent’s SUV to some “Save the Planet” concert, or, better yet, their denouncement of talk radio while encouraging others to listen to “Rage Against the Machine” for the latest insight on how we’re being screwed over by The Man. The next time you come across one of their stupid rallys/protests/etc., look for the “Free Mumia” group that always populates these endeavors; it’s like playing a real-life game of “Where’s Waldo?” My personal highlight of interacting with these people came when some ugly skank (Or was it a really thing, long-haired guy? Who knows.) handed me a flyer telling me why Mumia should be freed. I took it, shoved it down my pants, did a few wipes (my briefs served as an effective barrier between the paper and the nether regions) and gave it back to her/him/it. And the reason there are only white hippies is because all the black ones got thrown in jail after getting busted for smoking a joint.

Everybody's situation is different, but if memory servers you're only in your first year. This is the best time to check out what else is out there. When I graduated high school, I went to a community college for two years. During that time I took a bunch of electives and decided what I was interested in. I always knew I'd fall in the English field, considering I hated math when the equations had more letters than numbers in them, and science was even worse (my highlight here was setting my one lab project on fire, burning a hole through my notebook). Why did you want to go into business in the first place? And Dogbert, why did you want to major in poli-sci? EDIT: What is "Physio"?

What would you do in regards to "physical fitness"? Sports training/rehab/etc.?

I dunno. That's how I use it. Another point to make is that what would you be interested in doing regarding Broadcast Journalism?

You don't need a message board feature to ignore someone.

You're right, we should just delete the whole damn thing. Not before you say something racist first.

For those that ever wondered what it is like to live the life of kkk, here’s a glimpse. (Don’t stare for too long or else you’ll probably go blind. Either that or feel the urge to put a bullet in your brain.) When the better half isn’t putting her six-plus years of higher education to use at her one job, she works at a pizza shop that she has been a part of for more than a dozen years. Part of it is because she likes it down there (and away from me), and another part is because she has amassed so much debt it makes Congress look frugal in comparison. Well, this is a local pizza shop, and they actually produce a good product, so many times we have ordered from there. When we first moved back to Pennsylvania in 2003, we were well within this place’s range of delivery, so there were no problems. However, when we moved in 2004 to our current place of residence, the better half told me that this place normally doesn’t deliver out to where we relocated. Bummer. A few days ago I got the urge for pizza (more like I didn’t have the urge to cook) and suggested we order from some place. Now whenever I ask Mrs. kkk where she wants to order from, she usually likes to place an order to “I Don’t Know.” Hey, don’t diss I Don’t Know – they have some kick-ass wings, although the breadsticks are a bit on the pricey side. Well after getting the “I don’t knows” out of the way, we settled on pizza. I wanted to order from her workplace, but remembered that we were too far out. Also, the better half has always told me never to order from there on Sundays because that is when all the stupid high school kids work there and the food is horrible. I then had an idea. Lets order from the newly opened shop that carried the same franchise name as Mrs. kkk’s shop? I wish I could have closed that Pandora’s Box, but it was too late. This new store had opened about a week or so ago, and it was closer to our residence, so I figured what could it hurt? Well from the phone call to place our order it was like the better half was in mystery shopper mode. The person who received our call, according to the better half, didn’t know anything about the current specials or coupons available for transactions. Then she had to ask us for our address TWO TIMES. Oh, and it took her a minute to figure out how much the total bill would be. Oh, and she sounded miserable, too. After the call, Mrs. kkk began bitching about all the things this poor girl did wrong. When our order came to the door, the pizza was slightly burnt (still good enough for me) and instead of leaving onions off the hoagie we ordered, it had the onions included, which meant I wasn’t going to eat my half of the sandwich. The better half then began going off on how the order was screwed up and that this new place had no idea what it was doing. When I tried to interject on behalf of this newly opened business and suggest that maybe after one week in operation there were still some kinks to work out, she shot me the usual “don’t question me” look I normally get when trying to infuse common sense into one of her rants. Mrs. kkk enjoys working at this pizza shop because she hates her other job, which is in a white-collar setting with her doing clinical research. Thankfully, she’s in the process of getting another job lined up and will be switching over to that study in September. However, no matter where she works during the day, in her heart she will always be that pizza maker. She could be CEO of a Fortune 500 company and will still work several nights a week at some shithole with no air conditioning and come home smelling like a mix of dough, peppers and sweat. Oh, and this botched delivery wasn't all bad; the people that cashed out our driver must not have known how to include the tip line to the final total of my credit card transaction.

Look at it this way. Would you rather "waste" six months now or finish your current degree path and then realize it was all for naught? You only spent one semester working toward your poli-sci degree, can't you transfer over whatever credits you have earned toward another degree path?

I'd say no because it looks like if a person has you on "ignore" they still have the ability to choose to read your posts at will anyway.

Then get another job to either replace/supplement your current income, you filthy laborer.

Whatever. It's not COMCASTIC enough for me. (When are they going to ditch this campaign? It's starting to get on my nerves.) So how was the game? And did you bang Lisa from Public Relations?

Awesome. I wonder what would have happened had I gotten all political back in high school. It wasn't until college when I became an extremist.

That's a real cover? You can keep your B Buns, Little Flips and Cha-something-or-others. Back in my day we had this: And we liked it.

Think about the amount of scratch I have in the bank and somehow find a way to go on with my life. Oh, and start talking bad about Republicans in the after-parties; that way I'll have a leg-up on next year's awards.

True that. Wasn't from me; I didn't upgrade to digital cable, even though you people keep badgering me to get it.

With all the shit that is going down in the world – Arabs at the ports, Cheney shooting friends, Bush showing he doesn’t care about black people by, well, doing anything – it’s nice to read a feel-good story of some commie high school teacher helping his students learn by comparing Bush to HITLER and getting recorded by a student. Having listened to a number of clips of this idiot on RIGHT-WING RADIO, it makes me regret not having any pinkos trying to indoctrinate me when I was a teen. Well, there might have been but I was too busy either trying to snooze or stare at the chick in front of me. (I always preferred to oogle a chick that was in front and to the left of me. That way not only could you look at her leg/thigh region, but also you would get a nice side view of the rack.) I hope I don’t sound like a terrorist, but not all of this teacher’s ranting seemed unhinged. For example, there was something about terrorists seeing the World Trade Center as a military target. OK, I’ll go with this. After all, we’re talking about 40-virgin-afterlife-loving psychos; why not try to see things from their perspective? However, the problem with this nimrod in the classroom was that there was no self-counterbalance to his loony assertions. Oh, yeah. IT WAS ALSO A GEOGRAPHY CLASS. I at least hope he was pointing to the proper country when telling these kids why it would be OK for China to bomb us since we were shipping cigarettes to that country. If this sort of thing goes on in this school’s geography class, I’d love to see the math curriculum. “OK class, if Bush kills 100,400 innocent Iraqis, and Halliburton’s stock rises 4 points because of it, how many civilians had to be murdered so the stock price could jump 2.5 points?” I can’t wait to hear this guy’s defenders say that now there is a “chill wind in the air,” and educators are more fearful than ever about having the academic freedom to teach our youth. If it hasn’t happened already, I’m sure it will by early next week. When I think back to my high school days, I’m pretty sure a number of my teachers were liberal. There was one in particular named Mrs. Dickensheets (yes, that was her real name) who I’m all but sure was a lefty. She told us how Oliver North’s false testimony at the Iran-Contra hearings was exposed because of basic math, or something like that. I don’t remember the specifics because I didn’t pay that much attention to this woman; not because I was a RIGHT-WING EXTREMIST, but rather because I was a teen-ager. The highlight of my interaction with Mrs. Dickensheets was when I was a junior in high school. I had a math class with her, and one morning all 11th graders had to have an assembly to go over how to pay for our senior prom. It had always been the tradition of every senior class to pass on the debt to the class after them, but now the administration was getting tough with this, which meant our class needed to come up with a way of paying for our prom. Well, we were supposed to sell these retarded Pizza Hut coupon cards; it went something like if a person bought five pizzas and showed this card, then their next pizza was free. Also, whoever sold the most cards won some gay prize; I can’t remember what it was. After the assembly ended I hung out with a few of my friends in the cafeteria and didn’t get back to class until about 20 minutes after every other junior in my math class returned. This of course gave Mrs. Dickensheets the perfect opportunity to harass me for my . She began asking me what the assembly was about, and said something about having to sell these stupid cards because we couldn’t freeload our prom costs onto the grade below us. She then said something that I didn’t take too kindly to and made a smart-ass remark – probably something like “I don’t care about this stupid contest.” When she asked why I didn’t want to be the person who sold the most cards and win the gay prize being offered, I responded, “Why bother when someone’s dad will force everyone in the building he works at to buy 20 cards each? Besides, I’m not even going to this stupid prom, so why should I give a crap about how it gets paid off.” After a rather extended pause from Mrs. Dickensheets, she went back to the blackboard and left me alone. There were a few other liberal teachers, but I never got the “time to brainwash the students” vibe from them, although a few didn’t like me for other reasons, which I’m sure I’ll explain why in due time.

You're welcome.

• Now there’s video showing that George W. Bush knew about Hurricane Katrina and the damage it could cause before it touched land. H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T. So I wasn’t the only one who woke up the day Katrina hit and went “What’s up with all these black people standing on roofs?” • I’ve always said people with advanced degrees are some of the biggest dipshits out there. My theory is that the more “knowledge” you acquire, the less “common sense” you keep. Now my theory is proven, what with this U-C Irvine psychiatrist alleging to have lost $1.3 million in one of those hundreds of Internet scams where a person from some noble family from a third-world country has millions stashed away in some account they can’t access and need your $1,000 or so to have the necessary paperwork done in order to get a hold of that money (I may not be accurate in how this works, considering I only read the first several words to these messages). • Well, we can at least take some solace in knowing that whenever Mexicans cross the boarder illegally, they will get fat, lazy and unhealthy like the rest of us. • Anyone remember that shooting at a Shittsburgh movie theater during 50 Cent most recent movie? Well, the same theater is at it again. Last night, during a screening of the Steelers Super Bowl DVD, someone called the cinema and gave a bomb threat. Thank God I live outside the city limits. • Am I the only one who doesn’t care about that Autistic kid who nailed a bunch of three-point shots in a basketball game? I mean, good for him and all, but from what I saw, it wasn’t like this kid had anyone playing tough “d” on him. Yes, I know I’m going to hell. • Speaking of “special children,” it is stories like this that show why I don’t go to the movies anymore. I don’t blame the theater for doing what they did (although a refund should have been given, imo) because what are they supposed to do? If you want to bitch about something, bitch about the people who complained about the kid. If the theater management would have said to the people complaining, “What’s the big deal – it’s just a kid laughing,” these patrons would have probably then bitched to the theater’s upper management, and believe me, district managers of theaters (or any other business with a lot of low-paying, entry-level jobs) don’t want to hear from whiny customers, no matter how stupid their complaints might be. In just about every job I have worked where a district manager was involved in our store’s chain of command, never once did I hear these people defend us over a stupid customer. In fact, being an asshole is what gets these people their jobs. One of my favorite district manager stories involved my time at Burger King. The name of our store’s District Manager was Barry, and he was an asshole. One night when we were busy, I was in charge of the “specialty station.” This means I was in charge of fries, onion rings, chicken and fish; the shittiest station to work if you are employed by the King. Anyway, I had just put down a basket of onion rings, and they went on top of TWO onion rings that had been laying there for about two minutes (It takes 80 seconds to fry the onion rings, and I had been steadily dropping baskets of these things). Anyway, Barry then looks at me and says, “Rotate your onion rings.” I told him to fuck off. Thankfully, three baskets of fries had just been ready for consumption and their ringers went off, meaning I got away with one. However, I didn’t get away with this. I worked with a midget who was a worthless piece of shit. Whenever there was work to be done, she would scamper off and hide, which wasn’t hard for her to do considering we always had a lot of empty boxes in the back room. Well, whenever she pissed me off, which was often, I would retaliate by putting the sandwiches I made near the top of the “burger chute,” where she couldn’t reach them. Have I said already that I’m going to hell? Well, for one supply order we were given these hippie burger wrappers that had zero traction, meaning they wouldn’t slide down the burger chute. One night when I was the only person making food this midget screamed at me and started to cry because I wasn’t sliding the food down all the way. Bitch, I COULDN’T. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Go around the counter and personally hand everybody their sandwich? Well a day or so later asshole Barry came up to me and barked, “kkk, I hear you’ve been picking on Lisa.” Not knowing what he was talking about, I replied, “Huh?” Wanting to get both sides of the story, this dickhead then said, “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t do it again or else.” After asking my one manager what just happened, and then being told of the great burger chute controversy from the previous night, I realized that asshole district manager was half the man I was. And the midget was one-third the worker I was, literally and figuratively.