kkktookmybabyaway

I don't get the whole "uncle" thing. When my half-brother was having his first kid, my old man was making a big deal of me being an "uncle." I guess because I was the youngest kid or something, but who the hell knows.

Dam, she probably thought you were a dirtbag and wouldn't tip. One time when the better half and I were in the "dating" stage of the relationship we were at some place where the guy waiter wouldn't even look at me and was a notch or two below full-fledged flirting with the future Mrs. kkk. I thought the whole thing was funny myself, especially since I was the one who paid the bill and supplied the tip, or lack thereof.

Peace out.

He skis. The only other person in his profession that I remember was that Peek-a-Boo chick. (I'm not counting snowboarders because I have no idea who any of them are.) I'm sure there have been worse, but this probably ranks up there.

Tell me Social Security isn't going to be around when I retire. That's fine. I accept that. But what the hell do you expect some person who's worked 40+ years and was told that pension/etc. was going to be part of his retirement? If those packages were going to bankrupt the system/company then they never should have been given in the first place, and management should have had the stones to say "no" to promising them in the first place.

That's CC? Didn't recognize her. All my pics of her are at least 15 inches in size compared to that tiny avatar. Err, wait a minute. I didn't recognize her because she doesn't look ghost-white from a distance. Yeah, that's it.

Then don't expect that pension to be around. I'm about as anti-union//etc. as one can be, but when you make a deal with your workers regarding pensions and that shit, you better back it up. Don't come crying down the road because you overpaid for the labor.

I love bosses. Especially the ones that don’t know what the fuck they are doing. I have been at my current place of employment for more than two years. When I first started working, I was told that I had pretty much a flex schedule, meaning that as long as I put in 40 hours a week, eight hours a day, I was in the clear. Fair enough. Now this job is about 25-30 miles from my house, and I have to brave two Interstates in order to travel to and from my job. I soon found out that an 8:30 a.m.-5 p.m. shift was going to involve a shitload of traffic. I then asked if it would be OK if I came in earlier. I was told that would be fine. After testing out what traffic is like early in the morning, I settled on working a 6:30 a.m.–3 p.m. Working this schedule is good because not only do I avoid the early morning jams, but also coming home isn’t nearly as bad as it would be if I was out on the road at 4:30 p.m. Well, even though I got my work shift OK’d by people much more powerful than me, and even though there are two other co-workers who work the same hours I do, and have had their schedule for years, everybody is shocked when they call my office at 3:05 p.m. and I don’t answer because I’m in the car heading home. I have worked this shift for two years now. There is no surprise to when I come in and when I leave. Now it’s bad enough when my one idiot boss decides to give me assignments to do at 2:50 p.m., but every couple of months we have a bunch of meetings that are scheduled for out-of-town representatives. Every three months a bunch of people come in from out of state and spend the day in meetings with us. There’s one meeting that I have to attend, and it’s funny because for the first year I worked here I didn’t come to these meetings. The reason? Nobody told me I was part of the meeting. However, what’s funnier is that this one meeting that I have to attend is ALWAYS schedules for 2-3 p.m., and it is always at least an hour long. I’m also never told ahead of time when these meeting are scheduled. Normally I really wouldn’t care about being out of the loop, but the problem is that I carpool with the better half, so whenever these meetings come around she has to find another way to get home. Well today was a fun day. When I found out this morning that my meeting was at 2:30 p.m. I called the better half and she made other arrangements to get home. I then sat at this 90-minute meeting and afterward did some work that was asked of me by some out-of-town reps. A workday that normally ends at 3 p.m. was extended three hours, which is fine for me because that means three hours of comp time. This is why I like working for an hourly rate. Sure getting a salary may seem more ‘professional” but if you get paid by the hour, you have a much better opportunity to resist getting buttfucked by your employers on time worked. I strongly recommend to anyone employed in the white-collar world to not only keep a log of when you arrive and leave your job, but to also keep a journal of what you do while on the clock. I know already that when I submit my timecard on Monday I’m going to be questioned about the extra hours I’ll have written down. Hey dipshit, I leave at 3 p.m. The meeting ended at 4 p.m. and then I was asked to burn several CD-ROMS, make 400 copies of a double-sided brochure, send off several e-mails containing attachments, make a few phone calls and update several web pages. You think I did all that shit for free just because I normally go home at 3 p.m.? Kiss my ass. I learned my lesson six months into this job when I spent about a week out of state on work-related matters. I busted my ass for 16 hours a day, waking up at 6 a.m. each morning and working into to middle of the night. When I got back, I requested to use some of the time I “banked” to move into the house that was recently purchased by the better half and me. You would have thought I said I wanted to fuck my boss’s wife with the reactions I got. “Oh, really. Now what makes you think you deserve those three days off?” “Because I worked 14-16 hours/day for four days, and you said I could bank these hours.” “Oh really now?” You fucking asshole. Ever since then, I’ve kept a journal of what I do and when I arrive and leave work. It’s funny now when they ask me about what they think is a discrepancy on my timecard and then I whip out several sheets of documented sheets explaining what I did during my time for that day. After a few incidents, they have pretty much left me alone, but even when you think you are in the clear, it’s still wise to keep your journal because you never know when they’re going to try and Jew you out of some work time. I should have learned my lesson when I was a high school puke working at Burger King and got screwed at that place, but that’s another story for another time.

Well we know you don't live in Vermont.

Well, after going on a five-game losing streak I changed my strategy to whatever hippie scheme the Pens were doing to "Crash the Net." Now I'm doing much better and I'm at the .500 mark 12 games in. Of course after playing well for a stretch I lost 10-3 Atlanta, who had the lowest point total in the league (?!) But the real reason for my post is that my starting goalie got tired after playing 10 or so games and had to be scratched for a few games. Do forwards and defensemen need similar breaks? If so, how many games can someone with good endurance last before taking a break?

I never had a problem with her, but it was funny to hear her say how great 2004 (or was it 2005?) was going to be, then we never heard from her again.

Oh, and I'm an uncle.

Well, that'll be one more Democrat voter 18 years from now. Peachy.

Boo. It's a shame that our jails are overflowing with inmates.

When you said "funny stuff," I hope you weren't talking about the Daily Show's content but rather the governor of a state got "served," or whatever you kids call it today.

I believe it. Been hearing how Mexicans will eventually outnumber blacks in another decade or two. Don't really care (Would YOU want to live in Mexico?), as long as they don't enter the U.S. in the back of a pickup truck or in the dead of night by running through people's backyards.

I thought San Diego was a bit on the conservative side, too, as far as urban areas go. Has that city been overrun by Mexicans as well?

I see Flyboy is on that list; I didn't know he was in Texas -- thought he lived somewhere else in the South.

That would scare me, too; seeing them get older and take on more and more of your traits. On a side note, there are several people who know me that question why I don't want kids because they'd think I'm make a great father. One time I babysat my niece and nephew and the next day or so my mother-in-law asked them how they liked "Uncle kkk" babysitting them and the niece said they loved it: "He let us run around the house shooting each other with squirt bottles." Haven't babysat them since.

As long as they're not yours. Oh, yeah. Congrats and stuff if that's what you're wanting to hear. How old's your first one?

Didn't you learn the first time, CWM? And is this with the same chick?

Well maybe they ran out of the fancy kind with the bumps on it.

Believe it or not, I try to be an understanding person. However, even I have my limits. At my workplace, I am our organization’s web master, which is a scary thought considering I don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time. Actually, it’s not that bad, but I am by no means an expert on this Internet thing. I can build a Web site in Dreamweaver, but don’t tell me I need to write HTML code or else I’ll sit in the corner and suck on my thumb while holding my security blanket with the other hand. About a month ago I got a letter from Verizon DSL saying that they were, “Migrating your web site to an improved hosting platform provided by Verizon SUPERPAGES.com,” beginning February 17. Your means of accessing your web site and email account will change.” Later on in the letter, they said, “You will receive two e-mails immediately after the migration.” Well, I have been keeping an eye out for any Verizon e-mail notices up until February 17, not wanting to miss out on any important updates. So far nothing. On February 17 I was checking my inbox and junk mail folder thinking maybe a Verizon e-mail ended up there by mistake. Still nothing. (Although e-mails about enlarging my penis constantly get through to my inbox, I’ve noticed that other messages that have actual relevance in my life don’t make the cut. Then again, adding a few inches onto little kkk can’t hurt.) I had to leave at 2:30 p.m. Friday, February 17 for an appointment. (My work schedule is 6:30 a.m.-3 p.m.) When I came back Tuesday (I had Presidents Day off), I found that I couldn’t access my e-mail, and neither could any of my co-workers. I called Verizon, and they said they don’t deal with e-mail/Internet matters anymore, that I would have to call the SUPERPAGES department. I called the SUPERPAGES people up and they said that they migrated all of our e-mail/Web site stuff, and that they sent an e-mail letting me know of the new password I was supposed to use to get into my e-mail account. The problem though was that this e-mail message letting me know of my password was in my e-mail bin that I couldn’t get into because I NEEDED TO KNOW THE NEW PASSWORD. After telling the tech guy this, he gave me the password and I got into my new and improved SUPERPAGES account. I noticed that they sent this goddamn message at 2:50 p.m. on a Friday afternoon right before what was to be a three-day weekend for many employees. You’re supposed to fire people at the end of a workweek, not give them technical information that won’t be accessible in another day or two. So after spending the early part of the week getting everybody’s e-mail accounts up and running again (as well as putting together the final touches of the monthly publication I mail out at about this time every month), I then went to the Web site and discovered everything that was password-protected is now free as a bird. Yippie. I then realized that I had to re-register the 200+ names that were granted access to various sections of the site. Now, for the trifecta, I discovered that the cgi bins needed re-done I know some of you reading this are computer geeks and took cgi bin/form creating as a remedial elective in school, but you’ll have better luck teaching a retard to swim by throwing him in the deep end of a pool than telling me over the phone that certain codes need changed from original IP addresses to new IP addresses, among other things. I’m not going to rag on the customer support people because they’ve been great, especially this one chick I’m talking to now who has had to put me on hold several times already because I don’t think she knows what she’s doing (which makes two of us for that matter). I’d rather interact with someone like this than some techie asshole that can’t believe I don’t know HTML as a second language. Besides, this is giving me ample time to talk to all you hippies instead of getting any real work done at my job. I also don't want to rag on this new SUPERPAGES thing, because from what I have checked out, there seems to be some neat stuff I can perform that I couldn't with the previous Verizon Web account. It's just that couldn't these people have notified me of these changes when I wasn't home for the weekend?

My n*gga. I'm not too keen on the makeup of CA, but from my understanding, there are a number of conservative areas, but they are outmatched by the more crowded urban areas. That's why those maps showing all the "Bush Country" are stupid. On a side note, it was funny during the whole Gary Condit fiasco a few years ago, he was always called by Big Media a "Conservative Democrat" in a "Conservative District."

What's he bitching about? Bush or the Dems that ruined his political career?