Drugstore Cowgirl

One of my better friends is courting a girl that needn't be courted. I have never met her but his stories are absurd. First, she was disappointed that she did not have the time to pop some percasetts nor dilaudid before seeing a movie.. or as a last resort, sneak in a bottle of Jack.

She asked him to attend a fund raiser for the victims of the Katrina hurricane. She told him that there would be lots of finger foods and an open bar for 40 bucks a head. Probably, the classiest part of her proposition would probably have been the part when she told him that she usually has to safety-pin a note to her sweater before attending an open bar. The note would contain writings of her address so someone, anyone, can wheel barrel her home when she gets influenced by overwhelming alcoholic toxins.

I asked him how he felt about this. To my surprise, he answered that he thought it is good for two reasons. One, is that she will be more “available” when she gets trashed.. and two, now he will finally know where she lives.

Maybe cupid drank some 80 proof.

Trust Walking

Do you work with any older guys, the ones who have been called "dinosaurs" for devoting most of their life to just one cause or organization, thrown around the ringer for many years as they approach retirement? You know, the ones that wait for anyone that will listen to them, always hiding around the corner of the office with a cup of coffee and a snide remark concerning upper management. The ones that tell you the same story over again from time to time, not only telling their stories, but reliving them as they speak.

I remember two years ago, I was in our cafeteria with such a coworker, who has a surprisingly wonderful sense of humor for someone having been divorced, having battled through substance abuse and now clinging on to his job amidst rumors of being next on the list to be let go. He over-rationalizes his work day's accomplishments to combat the mounting small talk of his lack of productiveness and initiative.

Back then, he spoke to me about not being able to trust anyone in this world but yourself. "People cheat you, people screw you over, people leave you in the cold, people change on you, people die before you.. the only one you can truly count on and trust is yourself." I remember how I nodded to the beat of his words to keep his aging engine alive during a cold, bleak winter afternoon, although I really wish I could express my disagreement to his words.

I had lunch with this fellow again this afternoon, as we were both in training at a ridiculously distant location. He repeated this story to me again, and this time, it was a cool late summer day, and again I nodded to the beat of his words, but this time to keep my engine alive. I really wish I could express how much I agreed with his words.

There's someone for everyone..

Taken from a website, listing interesting classified ads..

Yesterday:

You looked ravenous at the McDonald's on my corner. I was scavenging in the trash for leftovers when our eyes met; then I saw a half-eaten McNugget. Glanced up and you were gone. Dessert? Meet me at the corner of Sixth and Vine.

Checkpoint Charlie

We decided to go out one day, out to a social environment. I was among 2 other males, all in our late 20's, so the three of us inherently appeared to crave women. In fact, at that time, we all simply wanted to do something typical, like going to a bar. I hadn't been out in almost a year, but when we did go out, we usually frequent working class establishments. This time we were in a different city (Halifax), just looking for a place to unwind and relax, kick back, and try a local beer and pretend that we knew the difference. All the places within our vision had that corporate TGI Fridays look, with the formula mahogany tables and Old English fonts.. not the sawdust we were accustomed to frequenting.

As expected, we were stopped immediately at the door by a bouncer, who began to inspect us like a male chimp does when a female chimp is introduced to the cage. I peered into the establishment, and as I figured, the place was missing something.. customers. Anyway, back to checkpoint charlie.. he asked for our identification and we all took out our driver's licenses.

He began asking simple questions like our names, what state we lived in, and any other clever questions he could infer from a New York State driver's license. Then he began to stare at my friend's license in particular. It must have been close to a minute. I wonder which word was giving him difficulty..? Meanwhile, three girls walked in, right past us without the spot check.

I realized what was occurring.. the bouncer was staring at my friend's picture on his driver's ID. It was taken when his hair was quite long, down to his shoulder blades. It was objectively a terrible look. He looked like his older sister wearing a wig. Currently, his hair is quite short. The bouncer turned to him and said, "Is this really you?"

"Yup," said my pal while casually nodding his head.

"Okay, just doesn't look like you. Do you have a sis-"

He quickly interjected, "It was taken a while ago.. I know, I know.. the hair."

The bouncer looked again at the picture with a sour look on his face, "How old are you?"

"According to my ID, I'm a dirty old man."

We all began to snicker, even the bouncer. We thought that would help us through. We actually wound up getting refused on account of my attire. I was wearing camouflage pants. Somehow this was against the dress code. Needless to say, Navy crew members were all around the city that weekend. This was the third time in my life that I was refused entrance due to my attire. When will I ever learn that in order to best supply my funds to an establishment, I must conform to the image that is needed to milk the rest of the suckers. A half an hour wasted being interrogated and we couldn't get into an empty bar. Typical. Just typical.

Morning Rush

Ah yes.. this is what I miss most about NYC.. the coffee sold off the street right before a stressful day at work.. for 10 minutes before the morning rush, you can enjoy an over-sugarfied treat. To me, the design on the cup is of Campbell Soup fame.

Back Down South!

So.. we roadtripped down south.. this time to Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama and Virginia. Line dancing, beer guzzling, yee-haw shoutin', mesh hat wearing adventure! What a ride.. So much character in the deep south that it is charming.. I wonder what it is about the South and my fascination with working class America. I guess I yearn for a day to kick back with a cold one and listen to some slow country rock.. don't ask..

Turn it down.

Don't you wish that we always had to whisper? We may actually listen to each other better..

Stronger, Better, Faster!

It is sometimes unreal how the human condition adjusts itself when one aspect of your life changes. A real domino effect occurs everyday, and like string theory predicts, things are really smaller than they appear. I have decided to change my life and my lifestyle.. for that matter to a new one, and I am immediately reaping the benefits of a new, welcomed change. I find myself blazing through days, yearning naps whenever possible and being more productive than ever before. I think it is important to define what productive means. Sometimes just waking up is productive while some other times it is only a fraction of the day ahead.

As a result, I'm listening to new music and walking to a new beat. It is funny how deep down inside, we never really loose confidence in ourselves, we just loose sight of our potential.

I'm thinking of a wonderful day, one in which I have been waiting for some months now. One perfect day can set you straight for a while. It all occurred to me while sipping a lemonade and that song "Sex and Candy" from Marcy's Playground was playing, and it put the biggest damn smile on my face. You know, the type of smile you have when your greatest adversary kindly smirks at you letting you know that they respect your existence and appreciate your strategy. If you can make yourself smile with nobody around, it is the greatest gift you can give yourself. Am I emerging from my coma? Perfect timing for the new weather. Let's see how this plays out..

Don't Mess With Texas!

Just came back from 10 days of Texas for a work conference with a colleague. I had a great time; lots of studying and training, and lots of seeping in the southern lifestyle. For a tall Jewish guy and a small Chinese girl, we stood out like a sore thumb, but there is something to be said about southern hospitality.. we were treated like family. Everyone there has super nice cars and trucks. They have all these "W" stickers on the back of the SUVs. It's BUSH COUNTRY BABY!

Remember when you were a little kid, sitting in the back seat of your parents car on a long trip, bored out of your mind.. and then when you passed a truck, you could make a clutching movement with your arm and if the trucker was nice enough, they would blow the steam out the top of the truck.. Well, in Texas, if you hold your middle three fingers in front of your face in the shape of a "W", they return the favor. Gotta love it. It was really different for us. I was also on the lookout for guns, but I didn't see any.

In our hotel, there was a Rabbinical conference. We rode the elevator with them many times. They were all joking about the choice of the location for the conference and all the beef in Texas that "ain't kosher." We spent a lot of time in the huge Texas malls, filled with GAPs and Starbucks.

There was a popular indoor ice rink that many locals frequented. It had a huge sign that read, "Home of Tara Lipinski." Too bad we missed the rodeo. I would have loved to watch a grown man dressed up like a clown trying to distract a bull.. I heard ZZ Top was in town. Oh well... My colleague was sad to say goodbye, but I told her, "hey kid, we'll always have Texas.."

Prison Flicks

Someone very close to me just got sentenced to jail in the New York State correctional facility. Sadly enough, the person was a member of my immediate family. Don't worry, it wasn't for a violent crime, but a crime nonetheless. Today, I went and sent a letter and a whole bunch of books through the postal service.

I apologize if I have been out of commission as of late. This drama, coupled with a long term relationship breakup has sent me into an isolated state of thought. I have been very reclusive as of late, not choosing to accommodate several offers of being social. I have also ended a very short term relationship with a wonderful person that I thought would fill a void. I realized that I was only going down that path of leading someone back to the starting point. I still have the ability to make myself laugh.. and I am grateful for that one gift that I believe was given from the great heavens above. I have began to like myself more and more as I spend more alone time.. but, I realize one thing I cannot escape.. we are social beings. I have started to crave short conversations, late night coffee chats, and the act of reuniting with an old pal. I am almost ready.

So, the Big House huh? Yeah.. this is a trying time where up is down. But I remember one short little story that touches on the theme I have started this entry with and also with my previous one and makes me giggle. I would hate to paint a story were prejudiced remarks are only being emitted by the stereotypical man of the masses. Here's a different take on a similar story..

My first professional job was to be the back office support staff for a major investment bank in New York City. It was an explosive experience for me. I went throught eight interviews, each time having the stick shoved that much deeper inside until I would bleed the answers they wanted. The process took almost a month to complete and as each round progressed, I noticed that many of the faces that I identified with during the process were vanishing.

After getting the job, coincidently, it was tax season. I was lifted from my geek duties on the computer and sent to the tax reporting office. Everyone at the office was ultra conservative and reserved. The office needed extra labor for tax reporting so we had to learn all the tax regulations of the great United States revenue system.

We all kept to ourselves and many coworkers voiced their fears that they were being secretly tape recorded through various clandestine measures: bugs in the elevator, recordings in the bathroom, small transceivers in the lunch room and so on.. most people were nervous enough not to open up. One guy insisted on 'signing' to me in the men's room. He didn't even know sign language so it was a makeshift attempt. To their credit, I did witness two firings due to 'questionable behavior.'

Ok, lets start this story.. The company hired a few accountants to help out in the tax season. One such accountant had the name Arthur. Arthur was a 50 something Jewish accountant that sported the typical accountant motif: nice vintage dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tucked under right after the elbows, a neatly trimmed blond/red beard, bald spot, thin glasses, bad posture, dark slacks and black shoes, electronic watch.. and on and on... he had a style I liked; he was definitely stuck in the late 70s.

Arthur was in my group which consisted of about thirty people. It was a multicultural group; I do remember a girl from South America that I began taking a liking to.. another story though.. But I remember there were two black guys who were a blast to hang with. They were one of the few coworkers that didn’t care about being a puppet. One guy was named Karl, a Brit that used to photograph soccer clubs in England, and the other guy was named Roger.. and he seemed pretty normal other than the fact that he loved to talk about women all the time.. but I guess that is normal. Karl and Roger always joked about the fact that they were the only visible black people in the office.

It was funny watching Arthur use a computer. He would type only with his two index fingers at a pace reminiscent of the minutes passing by your life by while watching C-SPAN. He would always shout, "Oww - wah.. Jay-sus Chryssssst.. just khill me already with these damn computers!" in a very Woody Allen trochaic manner.

One day, the head trainer appeared and told us that she needed two volunteers to learn tax law concerning corporate bonds. Nobody volunteered so she simply picked Karl and Roger since their proximity to her was simply unavoidable. Anyway, Karl and Roger were gone all day and the remainder of the group finished the daily lesson quite early. We decided to continue, and our group started to learn tax law concerning corporate bonds. We were trained for the last two hours of the day. The head trainer reappeared with Karl and Roger. Our trainer sporting a small smile, sarcastically said to the group "Hey everyone, it's Karl and Roger.. guess where they've been?"

Arthur nonchalantly lifted his head from the books and with a serious face answered in that all-knowing New York Jewish accent, "Prison?"

Can't Win

At work many years ago, I rode the elevator one morning in Florida, heading down to the ground floor. The elevator stopped at the sixth floor. Enter Bert, a sixty-four year old "work dinosaur" that wore the most outlandish clothes.. white cowboy boots, stone washed black jeans, a bullet earring, a flowered shirt and blue-blocker glasses.. He smelt like he just hit by the Marlboro truck.

Bert slams the button for the second floor and shouts, "Ahhh crap.. I have to go to Horowitz to settle this account. F*ckin' Horowitz, always counting every single penny!"

As he shouted the "H" in Horowitz I was inundated with stong tobacco currents. I begin to chuckle.. it was too early in the morning to see an old man all riled up.

Bert turned to me again, "You know buddy, if there is one thing I learned about Horowitz, it's that you can never trust a jew.."

I really wasn't faded as I expected nothing less from Bert. Normally I wouldn't care but I felt like making 'conversation'..

"But Bert, I'm Jewish.."

He turned to me again and with a straight face muttered, "Then don't trust yourself."

Rock N' Bowl !!

Very rarely do I get swept up in a moment, but this one was memorable. My old high school pals and I met up in the city of New Orleans, a simply magical city if you deviate from Bourbon Street. We went to MidCity Lanes, an amazing piece of American culture that seems to have been frozen for 30 years.

We downed some cheap beers, listened to the live music and hit the lanes. After a while, all I could remember was the blaring sound of ACDC's "For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)" and we somehow found ourselves in a heated competition against the girls one row over from us. I think we lost, but simply a memorable night! I actually saw my friends dance!

MidCity Lanes (Rock N' Bowl) is not located in the most decent neighborhood, but trust me, it is well worth the visit on a late Saturday night.

On Course

I am energized after suffering through three days of a long seminar titled something like "Executive Management Training." I am not a manager, nor an executive, just staff. I know they have plans for me in the future.. but this stuff doesn't interest me at all..

I work in the IT field. I do not deal with the issues that were being presented in this course. It seemed like a help desk management course and it is quite dry. Is it me, or are all of these seminars taught by the same guy?.. you might know him by these distinguishing features:

Attire / look and feel:

1. Ponytail (and balding in the front) -- Howard Hessman style
2. Enlarged tummy (aka "The Old Spare Tire")
3. Tie with a Dali print
4. Gold rimmed glasses
5. Cell phone clipped to his belt
6. Missing teeth on the side of the mouth (and multiple fillings)
7. Pen in breast pocket (usually a bic) -- but he's a bit dangerous not using a pocket protector

Mannerisms:

1. Lisp (especially with the letter 'S')
2. Always squats at eye level while monitoring group activities
3. Overexaggerated hand motions to prove a point when there is not enough evidence in his argument

Catch Phrases / Buzz Words:

1. "Robust"
2. "Quality Control"
3. "Change Management"
4. "Granularity"
5. "Black boxes"

So, the first day, we filled out our name plates with our first names on them with big markers and had to introduce ourselves and explain what we want to get out of this course and what we thought about our immediate managers. I was daydreaming that on my turn, when they asked me what my role is within the organization I would say, "Yea, ok.. Hi everybody. I'm just a fu*k chimp for upper management.. an overglorified secretary like everyone else!" ..but I opted for the more politically correct, watered down response.

This course started off with a blast and maintained that same power stride, characterized by half of the 30 attendees leaning their hands on their temples.. shaking their heads in disbelief and stretching every 20 minutes while seated -- oh, and the yawns!! Thank goodness they had a nice selection of teas.. the cinnamon tea was especially flavorfull. I was delightfully over-hydrated. That is where the fun stopped..

And, what's a seminar without the catch phrases and typical lines. Here are a few memorable quotes I endured (my thoughts in italics):

"If we can take one thing back from this course I hope it is that we can all learn from each other."
and how to stop payment on your check..

"Accept change, welcome it, make it fun."
If you could of only have seen the pure ecstasy in his face..

"No, you all should be on page 150.. What page are all of you on?"
Sounds of pages flipping everywhere.. madness!

"When you assume, you make an ass out of.."
I won't even finish remembering this old one..

"Change management is how we implement change."
Followed back-to-back by:

"Incident Management is how we deal with incidents."
Stop the press!

"IT (Information Technology) is also a customer of IT!"
I have no idea what that means..?

"In order to find out where we want to go, we have to know where we are."
Stop!! Please! For the love of...

(He was imitating tech support staff): "Hello sir.. How come you have Windows 95? (pause) Woa.. BIG questions!"
Even out of context, it makes as much sense as it did while 'in context.'

"Does anyone know the four P's of Quality Control?"
How could we possibly know the 4 P's.. a term you made up!?!

"I always say, the cost of education is expensive, try the cost of ignorance?"
I've heard that before.. it ain't yours!

"An eye for an eye.. taken right from Italian law.."
Hmmm.. maybe you missed that day in history class about that little place called Mesopotamia, or some reading material about creation..

"Problem control means we are controlling the problem."
Gold!

"Does anyone know the difference between a major change and a minor change?"
Hmmm.. Shall I go out on a limb here..?

So, you get the point. Furthermore, like any other computer talk, there were multiple three letter acronyms floated at us at an alarming rate. I thought it was additionally interesting to find the instructor having difficulty remembering what the last letter in the acronym meant on several occasions.. then venturing a guess..

After our free lunch (which I think some people think the food tastes better when it's free), we were all struggling to remain conscious. Eyes wide shut..

When we returned from lunch, a jazzified version of the 1812 Overture was blasting on the overhead speakers, followed by a musak version of the 2001 Space Odyssey. I thought I was going insane at this point.

And of course, we were promised to leave a half an hour early which never happened because the guy who always gets drunk at the Xmas party started asking tons of questions and making ridiculous comments to prolong the process. I should have checked his coffee for some 80 proof.

The climax of the day occurred when I was daydreaming about how George C. Scott was so cool for dismissing Hollywood commercialism by boycotting the Oscars, only to be dressed in a bunny suit right before his death for an Energizer commercial (probably for a rent check). I was set back to reality as I noticed that an another attendee was having difficulty trying to explain a situation and the instructor started making short, strange motions with his arms and feet, almost breakdancing moves (reminiscent of the robot).. He would make these actions and abruptly stop after each sentence the attendee made, almost in an effort to visually display that we need to communicate in a clear and coherent manner.. looked like he was playing twister on meth.. seriously! That was a first! Folks, I think we have a live one here!

Oh, and the cherry on top has got to be when a male manager squeezed my ass while we all left for lunch.. as a joke, "cause I was in the way..."

Yet, there are two things I did learn from this seminar:

One: We are all eventually replaceable. In a matter of one or two decades, monkeys could walk in the morning to our office with propeller hats with our names on them and do our jobs.

Two: Hearing the nonsense from this course and all the silly comments and debates from the staff with this instructor, I realized one old saying is very true: When you argue with a fool, so does he.

Thanks for hearing me vent.. It was a long few days...

Room for Rent: SWF looking for SWM 1/3 her age

Relocating to another city becomes exponentially easier when your grandmother lives there. Such was the case for me a few years ago. Our family calls her 'Oma,' the German word for grandmother.. even though she isn't German. She generously offered her guest room to me for as long as needed to get properly accommodated. For that, I will always be indebted to her unconditional love. Overall it was a wonderful experience, but I remember a few 'memorable' moments.

The pullout couch, became my bed. It had a wonderfully crafted metal bar that situated itself in the most thoughtful position to encourage poor posture the next day. At times, it felt like sleeping on a beach: a nice thought the night before, but one long, rough night. I felt like I was at odds with this beast every night before bed.

It was mid-summer and temperatures were intense at times during the night. I detest air conditioning, favoring a good fan any day of the week. So, I closed my door at night as my Oma pumped the AC on full blast. During the night, she would sweetly open the door thinking I would want to benefit from the cool air flowing down the hallway. I am usually an extremely light sleeper but those nights, I considered myself so lucky to beat the pullout couch bar that I was out like a baby. A few nights of the week, my dear Oma cooked fish at 3 am. This must be an Eastern European thing..? The smell carried itself down to corridor into the opened door leading to my room. Waking up in the middle of the night to the powerful fragrance of carp or bass was a unique sensation. Needless to say, my eyes remained wide open and fixated on the ceiling fan until it was time for work.

The second part of this story relates to the attire that an Eastern European grandmother sports at home. Casual wear one could call it.. it resembles a maternity dress of sorts.. like a big poncho or something. Definitely comfort over fashion. So, she wore this type of loose fitting gown, kind of like the bloomers of pajamas. It was light blue and that is all of the detail I care to recall.

The issue being, that while I was preparing for work, I would meet her in the kitchen first thing in the morning. The gown seemed too loose fitting in the wrong areas, probably due to extended wear. The chest area was way too exposed and the blue was not blue enough to shun the morning light from revealing a top heavy silhouette. Trust me, this is the last thing any young man needs to deal with before work. For this, I had to mentally divide her body in horizontally sectioned zones:

Zone 1: from the top of the head down to the lower part of the neck
Zone 2: from the solar plexus down to the waist *
Zone 3: from the waist down to the knees
Zone 4: from the knees to the feet

* Danger Zone

This system came in handy as I would look at only zones of her body. My line of vision would never have a flowing motion, but rather possess a choppy action. Zone 1 was the primary target. If my eyes were to drift (naturally), they would go straight to the 'safe' zones of 3 or 4. Intermittent blinking was also an integral aspect of this technique. So, as a ray of light pierced through while a southern wind blew in from the open window, I would hear a robotic voice in my head exclaim, "Zone 3 -- Stat!" It was the perfect system for the most imperfect situation.

Well, those were some memorable moments during my three month stay with her. I loved our long talks about her youth and we took some long strolls atop the mountain; she really loved that. We never had a negative moment throughout the duration of my stay and I will never forget what someone so special did for me. The best part of the experience, was that I stopped calling her 'Oma.' Her new name, which still places a huge smile on her face, is 'Pal.'

Thanks for everything Pal.

So, How are You Feeling Today?

I have left the city of people and random interactions to climb the mountains and lend myself to becoming a statue, overlooking where I once lived before.

Make Me Wanna Holler

I try to listen to music with a different focus. To me, the music lies in the bass and the peripheral sounds. I would always concentrate on the bass scales and the rhythm guitar more than the lead vocals or lead guitar -- sometimes I feel treble is a distraction.

One fond memory came when I was six and for some reason I was always attracted to Motown music. On my family road trips I grew increasing bored with the monotony of long car rides. My younger sister would begin to sing songs from popular radio stations and barely get the words right. Sometimes, she would loop every two sentences of the song over and over again. Usually those two lines were not even accurate.

Since I never paid attention to the lead vocals, I would simply hum music, except this one time. During Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On," I knew of only one verse. A little more than halfway through the song, the background singer starts singing, "My body wants it.. My body wants it.."

Two red lights lit the back of the car and all eyes were on me.

when reality finally sets in

Would the cold of winter make us stronger?

It seems the quiet coldness of winter brings a sense of grounded reality to any situation. Each day and each second is a struggle in the winter; you earn every sliver of your memory. The warmer seasons lend themselves to dreamlike sequences where memories blend into each other.

Winter memories are cold and real, but you never remember the cold, just the real. Constricting pupils force a sharp perception of everything during our frosting. This in turn, allows one to notice all of the fine imperfections that are so excusable in the pleasant warmth. Is it winter when I'm awake and summer when I'm dreaming?

Would have loved to have caught her in the fall.

A Slice of Humble Pie.

I am finally beginning to realize the difference between work and labor. When I was a child, to my parent's dismay, I aspired to become a toll booth collector. I watched the portly gentlemen sitting down all day, collecting money, without a care in the world. That was the job for me! Where do I sign? But now, I am caught in a world of unpaid overtime and unrealistic goals. I also find it strange to be so thankful to have the opportunity to get up in the morning and go to work.

Two years ago, my old pal in New York got fired over Labor Day weekend. Think about that for a second. He has relived the episode over and over countless times, telling me that he thinks he is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. I actually believe him. Even I memorized the encounter of the canning:

"N, step into my office.. close the door behind you. Look, I might be wrong.. hey, prove me wrong.. I just don't think you are suitable for Industrial Design.. Prove me wrong.. Listen.. I'm going to let you go after work today. I wish you well, but you should consider another profession. But, prove me wrong.."

In his left hand, N was holding a dry cleaning stub for the boss's wife and in the other hand the cappuccino that the boss told him to fetch. Every morining when he wanted his yuppie coffee, he used to shout, "Hey N, Crap me!" and giggle senselessly to himself.

That weekend, I remember taking my pal to his favorite restaurant, 2nd Ave. Deli, and then we whisked off to Brighton Beach to take his mind off things. We watched the garbage collect on the shore and a humongous woman flashed him as we strolled by barefoot.

His company actually wound up hiring him on a contract basis for another two months. I remember how low he felt when he returned to the office, everyone aware of his situation. Then, they actually let him go earlier than what his contract stipulated. To continue this painful story even more, he was actually asked to return on contract yet another time. He finally said, "What the hell, I feel like Billy Martin!" and told them to shove it where the sun don't shine.

Until you've danced with the Canman at Midnight, that slice of humble pie is just waiting for us under that glass case on the counter. Oddly enough, the worse the job is, the worse it is to get that dreadful visit from the Canman.. most likely 'cause you're working at that job since you have no options... and like everything else in life, you're only as good as your options.

In the beginning..

The Eskimo has fifty-two names for snow because it is important to them; there ought to be as many for the word "setback"..

... I wonder how many other blogs commence with this title..?