quick with imagination

I can't think of anything to write, so here comes nothing.  

1. Through space and time
2. Breaking walls
3. Shattered through thought
4. Traveling through the void where time is left behind
5. There is no up, but lie there anyway
6. A giant flash of light
7. Straight as a line can be carrying strength and intensity
8. The fun has now begun and off to work I go

Killing Frosty Slowwwly

My family and I made the bastard out of snow.  He stood there looking evil, staring right through me with those beady eyes.  It's now been two days and he's still there.  I wanted to take him out yesterday but had a change of heart when I saw Marissa staring back at me.  I imagined her screaming no papa and banging on the window with tears in her eyes as I slaughtered her snowman.

I never cared for snowmen.  I watched too many Christmas shows as a kid and I couldn't believe that something made of snow could come to life and walk around.  I made dozens of snowmen as a kid and none of them came alive.  It's not like I ever gave them the chance.  I always made sure I didn't leave them by themselves to sit in the sun and die slowly.  If I was that snowman slowly melting away I'd want to find the nearest sharp object and kill the heartless sob that gave me life in the first place.  A good sized stick would make quick work of frosty's knee caps and a few karate chops later there wasn't anything resembling the cold abomination from the rest of the snow.  It was an abomination.  What gave this thing the right to exist?

People reading this may take side with the snowman.  You might relate to it and childhood memories might prop up and bring you back to a simpler time in your life.  I understand how you took special care to craft the snow into a figure you could relate to.  Maybe your dad didn't hug you enough so you formed a male snowman, tall and caring that would tell you good job.  It wouldn't ever tell you to clean your room or that your mother was a whore.

I had a long day at work.  It's been 3 days since we made the snowman.  They were discussing a new name for him.  I was staring out the window with a glass of wine planning my attack.  I imagined a blowtorch going up and down it's back.  How was I going to make this look like an accident I thought?  Michelle asked what I wanted for dinner, but I didn't hear her.  She asked again "Honey, what do you want for dinner!?".  I was standing in my warm living room with a glass of wine, but in my mind I was pushing frosty into a snowplow.  Nothing I said.  I'm not hungry.  The sun was starting to come out and frosty's head was starting to melt.  I could just let him die naturally.  I think I'm going to scoop the sidewalk to work up an appetite I told my wife.  I thought I could kill it before dinner.  Take Marissa said my wife.

Marissa went outside and slowly walked to the snowman.  I didn't want that thing near her, but she was fascinated with it.  Maybe something about it reminded her of me and then it hit me.  I could no longer hurt frosty than I could hurt myself.  As I was contemplating that Marissa kicked the snowman pretty hard and bit into him.  We took a couple chunks from his mid section and made snowballs and had some fun.  We left him there and in a few days he would be gone, melted away and forgotten.

parents who named a baby "Mitt"

Four little letters that make the difference between normal and crazy.  It's not even the letters I guess.  It's the order of the letters.  Tim sounds normal and Mitt sounds insane.  His dyslexic parents created an ambition craved monster.  I see it in his eyes when he's giving his speech.  I hear it in his voice.  I see it in his soul.  It's saying "hug me mother and tell me I'm doing a good job".  He isn't trying to win the majority of votes in the country.  He isn't even trying to get all the votes for the republican primary.  He's after two votes, his mother and father.  If that were to happen his life would become meaningful and rich.  After gaining his parent's approval his success and personal fortune would be more than just a checklist of things to do in order to be president of the United States

I'm not a psychologist, but I've had two quarters of sociology at a community college.  It doesn't take a genius to know that something is wrong with Mitt.  I do respect him and all that he's accomplished.  That said, I think he's a emotionless monster.  He would probably be the greatest president in history and would catapult this country into a new golden era.  He is the right person for the job because the job he wants no sane person would strive for.  In times of uncertainty we should embrace crazy.  Crazy breaks through barriers and challenges traditional thought.  Crazy is Apple making a fortune on a MP3 player.  Crazy got Neil Armstrong on the moon.  Crazy named a baby "Mitt".  I hope crazy can vote for Mitt so this country can get back on track.

I am going to vote for Mitt Romney, because I don't want to ruin his life.  His parents purposely named him Mitt. He should have been named Tim and he would have a normal boring life but instead he's Mitt and it's his destiny.

Three foot tall Christmas

It's December 8th and 6 in the morning.  My daughters getting tubes put in her ears today.  Everyone says it's minor surgery.  I remember before the surgery she was being grumpy when the nurse was trying to take her height.  She never did get her to stand and my daughter's height was a mystery.  When the nurse tried to get her to stand straight Marissa would fall limp like a sack of potatoes and lay on the floor.  The nurse got sneaky and out smarted my daughter by measuring her height on the bed sheet.  She marked the head and toe and then used a tape measure to get the magic number of 3 feet exactly.  She took her terribly bitter medicine like a champ but she wouldn't stand to be measured.  The medicine contained some narcotic or something and it was making her act really goofy.  She was laughing uncontrollably over things she normally wouldn't and her balance was off.  Everything was funny and in 10 minutes she would be asleep in surgery. So here we were in a hospital before surgery having a blast.  They wheeled her away in the bed and we watched her go down the hall with her little face peeking through her crib posts like a little toddler inmate.  My wife said that little girl had no idea what was about to happen.  That was the saddest part.  She was so happy and soon she would be awake and screaming out of surgery.

We have a little Christmas tree.  I drug it out of storage a few days ago.  There it sat upright but not decorated.  Michelle grabbed up Marissa and the angel for the tree.  We have a bay window that we put our little tree in.  Michelle set Marissa by the tree and told her to put the angel on the top. Marissa was standing next to the tree trying to put the angel on and I noticed something. They are the same height.  Today during surgery Marissa's height was 3 foot exactly and now we know how tall our tree is.  We've had the tree for as long as I can remember.  Next year she won't need help with the angel.  We've had the 3 foot tree since we met each other 11 years ago.  Every year Michelle would get the little tree out and we would decorate it together.  We better buy a bigger tree next year or I'll feel really old when she stands next to it.

Zen and the art of staying calm after seeing a snowplow push ice into my driveway after I spent two hours scooping

My neighbor fired up his snow blower way too early on this cold Sunday morning.  He's retired and gets up unhumanly early.  The snow gave him something to do.  Snow blower maintenance, getting gas, storage, and actual use of the blower were all tasks he treasured.  If I get that way someone please shoot me.  There he was at seven in the morning and heart broken.  The snow plow pushed a bunch of icy black snow up into his driveway.  His snow blower couldn't process it and he was forced to break out his shovel.  There we were, him and I shoveling snow like cavemen without technology to bail us out.  I had a big advantage over him because I was younger and in better shape.  He had a big advantage because his house faced the East and the sun was out doing most of his work for him.  I wonder if he picked out his house knowing it was Nebraska snow that feared the sun and the shadow-less driveway.  This icy snow was in basketball sized clumps and my half broken plastic shovel did little to help.  I picked them up and threw them in my yard.  This was the street's snow and I shouldn't have to pick it up.  The city owns the streets and if I throw my driveway snow into the street I get a ticket.  The city can push the street's snow into my driveway.  I issue them tickets but they never pay them.

My neighbor got done with his driveway in about an hour.  He had a snow blower, sun, and his wife helping him out.  There wasn't any snow left anywhere on his cement.  The final touch was him busting out a broom to remove the last bits of snow the shovel missed.  What an asshole.  I'm just trying to get mine to a point where my wife's car won't get stuck and this guy is sweeping.  I started on the sidewalk shoveling and I cracked a smile when I saw the snow plow coming by.  He was headed right for the neighbor's driveway with a bunch of snow.  He's going to push a shit load of ice up into his drive and the jackass is there with a broom sweeping. He must not have been able to drive too close to this guy's driveway because he veered out of the way like an infant was on the driveway.  I wonder if the insanely polished clean driveway scared him away.  He wasn't so nice to my side of the street and all my hard work vanished in an instant.  One second the end of the drive was clear of ice and debris the next it was a winter wonderland.  The plow driver waved at me and I waved back.  I can't believe I did that.  I should have flipped him off.

An hour later and I went in the house.  I made a cup of coffee and warmed up.  I looked out the bay window surveying the neighborhood.  All the houses around us had absolutely no snow in their drives.  It looked like god himself caused the snow to fall everywhere except the neighbor's sidewalks and driveways just like how they have the wonderful sun hitting theirs.  I wondered if that snowplow driver is laughing because I waved back at him.  My driveway had patches of ice and snow but my wife shouldn't have a problem getting in and out. This story will repeat itself five to ten times a year and there's no need to get angry.  Next time I see that driver I'll be ready with my middle finger and that will be good enough.

Modern Day Music

I feel old turning on the radio but my cd player is broke.  I heard that the songs on the radio are slightly sped up so they can sell more commercials.  That sums up my feelings on the modern day music.  The money is the driving force.  justin bieber was created by the music industry.  I refuse to capitalize its name.  They gave it a stage, a fancy haircut, some screaming fans, and a record deal and called it music.

What ever happened to bands like White Zombie?  The 90s were full of them.  I miss the anger and speed.  They sounded genuine. Maybe it wasn't an act and they really were messed up.  Alice and Chains, Nirvana, Snot  Sublime :( all dead   You know who needs to pick up the ball?  NiN, Smashing Pumpkins, Manson, and Korn  I haven't heard anything creative from that pack for a long time.  I blame the makers of today's heroin!  What are they taking out of heroin that made 90s rock awesome?  Tweak your formula back assholes!

My wife likes pop music.  Some songs have a catchy beat.  Those are what I like to call day ruin'rs.  Even though the song sucks it can get stuck you head all day and people might catch you singing a line or two and call you a faggot at work.

There is a newer genre of music called indie rock.  It got it's name from independence.  If I listen to any new music it's going to be indie rock.  These people don't care about money and most of the time they don't care about their fans either.  That's what I like about them.  They don't give a shit except creating something unique in their mind.  It's not about money or the fans or anything but their own crappy life.  They tell a story with their music and it's honest.  It's something real and I don't feel like I'm watching a commercial when I listen to it.  They aren't trying to sell me anything which is ironic because I'll buy the cd if I like the mood of it.

Today's music isn't made by artists.  The people in charge are the producers and music labels and they make the music.  They look for someone they can market and they sell.  It's the business making art instead of the art making business.

Modern Day Thanksgiving

I haven't cooked a turkey before.  I bought a small one at walmart.  It was about the size of a football.  This turkey came with directions and it's own stuffing and gravy.  Just like all turkeys without all the work I guess.  I read the directions on the bag but I skipped a very important step.  After I had the bird cooking for an hour or two I decided to check up on it.  Everything looked good except for something strange in the bird's butt.  It looked like a plastic bag.  I forgot to take the gravy and stuffing out of the butt.  That's where the stuffing is on a live turkey.  Why didn't I remove the stuffing on my turkey?  I read over the directions again.  There were only 4 steps.  Preheat oven to 380 deg.  Remove bag.  Cook until done.  Heat up stuffing and gravy.  When it said remove bag I thought it meant remove the turkey from the bag I bought it in.  Dam these modern day turkeys!  Why couldn't they put the damn stuffing bag outside the turkey so I don't cook the plastic bag like an idiot.  I should write a letter to butterball or whoever made this damn turkey and wrote the worthless directions.

The bag didn't melt so I just pulled it out of the turkey hole with a fork.  The gravy and stuffing was already warmed up so I could skip the last step in the directions.  I wonder what's left for advancement in the field of thanksgiving.  They should make a turkey that all you have to do is press a button and the bird gets cooked and out pops mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and don't forget the rolls.  Everything is done for us and it happened so fast that a turkey at the grocery store might have more tech than my cellphone one day.  It

I'm from a small town in Nebraska.  My mom used to butcher her own chickens and I watched them flop around after their heads got chopped off.  I watched mom and grandma yank the guts out of the chickens and I wonder if mom would be proud of me yanking that bag out of the turkey.  Maybe one day my daughter will tell her kids about how her dad used to have to yank the bag out of the turkey.

If I was you I'd think I'm strange

I hate feeling someone has figured me out.  No one wants to be labeled as boring.  I don't want to be labeled as predictable.  I live for that look of disbelief once I told an old man he wasted his life and his wife probably hates him.  They know I'm not serious but I'm sure they've never heard that before.  Life is too short so why should I worry about what I say.

On a scale of one to ten how much do you hate your life?  That's a good question to ask someone I've never talked to before.  I count the seconds until the shock wears off their face.  Someone asks me how I'm doing like they give a shit.  I say "I'm living the dream and I'm so lucky to be trapped here with you at work".  An older guy at work comes up and says hi.  I say "does your unit stop working at a certain age?"  You could have just said hi back he says and starts laughing then he said his fell off.  From that day forward he asks me if I saw his unit laying around on the floor somewhere instead of hi.

Life is a mystery because of people.  Everyone is different and when pushed everyone reacts differently.  If they aren't pushed they act like they're supposed to act.  I'm not going to act like the group because a group of people are usually wrong.  If you need an example google WW2 and look up a group of people called the nazis.TG997X4X57HV

2 wrongs make a right

I was trying to go somewhere else in my mind.  I didn't want to listen to this and my brain was trying to protect itself.  I bought a book on zen meditation and it's paying for itself right now.My body was in a room of coworkers who were listening to her talk about recounting inventory.  My mind was thousands of miles away on a sunny beach watching my daughter step in the warm sand and having the waves touch her little feet.  I rarely apply this technique but I really want to speak my mind which would in turn cause someone to fire me.  I should record myself doing this because I'm worried about going cross eyed in a group of people while zoned out.  As long as I keep my balance I think I'll be alright.

Nerds don't make good counting people!  I was arguing with the receiving team about why the techs shouldn't participate in inventory.  Their argument was the technicians get paid the big bucks and they are the smart ones so of course they should count for inventory.  We don't think like human people I explained.  Nerds don't have any common sense.  They are terrible at repetitious tasks because their brains are wired to solve new problems not solving the same problems over and over again.  I've been trying to distance myself from these dweebs for a while now.  I do believe I'm different.  I'll never wear two different kinds of shoes or work startrek into the conversation.  A nerd is someone who does something amazing like hack a ipod and then annoys the crap out of you with his talking about it.  

Everything was happening in a little conference room.  We write down the count on PAPER.  We hand it in and then the paper would be typed in a spreadsheet.  What happened with that spreadsheet is a mystery but it wasn't good.  The information on the spreadsheet didn't match the information in our inventory database.  The database and spreadsheet all existed in a room full of management who were in no doubt joining their collective thoughts together.  Those thoughts would create a plan of action.  That plan would help the spreadsheet numbers match the inventory or die trying.  I don't know what that plan was but we just did what we always did.  We waited for hours then they told us to recount some items.  They were all in that room with the door shut and once in a while a manager would step out and tell us to be quiet.  My lack of silence caused the wheels to stop spinning and everything grinded to halt.  My talking took the attention from the spreadsheet and focused it in the area of people.  If it's one thing they knew it's people. They know very little about database queries, pivot tables, and all the things necessary for bookkeeping.  They are good about rules and keeping people where they belong.

In less than one month we'll have the same people count the same inventory.  We'll have the same management in the same conference room looking at the same spreadsheet.  If two wrongs make a right then the conference room will soon be empty and the blame will be focused where it belongs.

a night with HERPANGINA

I'm glad that's over I thought to myself.  The previous day I worked from 8 in the morning to 10:30 at night.  It wasn't hard work but that's a long time to be stuck at work.   Michelle and Marissa were visiting her parents while I was working.  They stayed the night.  Michelle called me the next day and said Marissa didn't sleep well and she was drooling all night.  My heart stopped beating for a second.  She's acting normal said my wife.  She said she was going to the clinic in Grand Island and then they'd visit my parents.  I said OK and told her to give my girl a big hug for me.  She text ed me after the doctor appointment and said Marissa had herpangina.  I got on the internet looked it up and thought oh, that poor little girl.  She also had an ear infection.

I called Michelle at 6 or so.  I was worried about my daughter and I was wondering where the hell they were.  She said my parents just got home and Marissa won't eat or drink anything.  I was pretty pissed off.  I wanted to see my daughter and she kept talking about how bad she was doing.  She said that Marissa couldn't go to daycare for a few days and she was looking for someone to work for her.  I called my boss and explained the situation.  He let me have the next day off if Michelle had to work.  That night was rough.

They got home at 9 and she was crying.  She didn't fall asleep until 5:30.  She slept from 5:30 to 8:30 and she got up.  I was giving her Tylenol every 4 hours.  I don't think it helped much.  I am so proud of her.  At around 4:00 in the morning I laid down on a pillow on the floor and Marissa gave me a back rub.  She was in so much pain and couldn't sleep but she wanted me to be more comfortable.  I fell asleep but quickly woke up to a little finger in my ear.   She managed to scratch a little skin off from the inside of my ear.  I grabbed her hand and said "no Marissa" then she grabbed my whole ear and pulled.  This was my daughter's way of saying please take me to bed daddy I'm tired.  I put her in bed and she went right to sleep.

She woke up at about 9.  I gave her Tylenol, antibiotics, and a prescription lollipop.  The lollipop was too big for her mouth and she didn't like it.  I had to force it in her mouth and she was crying the entire time.  It was supposed to numb her mouth so she'd eat but it didn't work.  She wouldn't eat or drink.  I didn't want her to get dehydrated.  I filled the same syringe I used for the antibiotics up with Gatorade and squirted some in her mouth.  By the end of the day she hadn't slept or eaten anything.  She only drank what I forced her to drink.  I was really worried about her.  She slept 8 hours that night.  She always surprises me.  The second I think she can't do something she does it.

The next morning she ate some cereal and said owee at every bite.  She drank half a cup of gatorade.  I was so relieved.  She was improving.  She then took a 3 hour nap.  I took the nap with her.   When we got up I decided to go shopping.  We needed milk and food.  I bought some sugar cookies and gave Marissa one.  She ate the entire thing and drank some milk.  Later I tried one of the cookies and to my surprise they were wonderful.  They were really soft in the center.  Marissa has good taste.  I went out and got some McDonalds and tried giving her a french fry.  I felt bad.  She loves french fries but she couldn't eat them because it hurt her too much.  She would take one bite and then

Michelle stayed home with her on the 4th day.  I texted her at 10 in the morning.  She said Marissa was doing great.  That made my day at work a lot more enjoyable.  I got home and watched her eat an entire plate of spaghetti.  She drank 5 cups of milk.  Her stomach is so full.  :)  She's to the point where nothing bad happened ever.  No more owee when she eats.  No more dry diapers.

The illusion of authority

I have a trade and you have a desk with a phone.  Sometimes I wonder what crazy idea the powers that be will come up with next.  Most of the time it's something simple that they can control such as what color our floor outline will be.  The management is dysfunctional at best.  I think they disagree in an effort to find something to talk about.  The group consists of one common sense person, one person who knows, and two who don't have a clue.

The two that don't have a clue stick together.  They aren't that bright but keep employed by playing a game of cat and mouse with the company rules.  They've been playing that game for over 20 years. The woman never dials my extension.  Instead she will page me over the intercom.  She loves an audience.  If she notices a mistake she'll point it out in front of everyone in an attempt to humiliate that person.  She can't realize that most of the things she points out are wrong but because she does it around a group of people she rarely gets corrected.  Her guy counterpart demands respect and strict following of the rules.  I went to the bathroom and he was there brushing his hair.  I relieved myself and washed my hands.  He was still there combing his hair.  I looked at him through the mirror and didn't see any lights on.  I wonder what person told him that hairstyle is ok.  He has the hair of a 70s style bike gang but the job of Micheal Scott from the office.  He rides a Harley to work and walks around like he hasn't stepped off it yet.  I wonder if he has rickets.  His son used to work here.  He died in a car accident.  I feel bad for him.  That must have been terrible.

My direct supervisor is the one who actually knows what's going on.  He gets frustrated by the constant jabber of the other three.  They hold a lot of meetings and invite him.  I can tell he doesn't want to be there but if he doesn't go they'll make decisions without him.  He's a good guy and it isn't fair he has to listen to all that nonsense.  He is front the east coast and thinks everyone from Nebraska must be either a bitch or a 70s biker.

The common sense guy doesn't have an education.  He gets paid more that the other 3 people.  He likes the shop to be clean and organized.  That's a great idea and every manager on the planet has that idea already.  He shouldn't get paid that much because he has the big idea of keeping a clean shop.  He is well liked and gets results.  If you are his friend then he'll confide in you and give you more responsibility.  The Harley rider used to be in charge.  The area was a mess and the Harley rider's boss decided to let the common sense guy run the show.  Common sense came in and turned things around.  OMG thought Harley rider's boss and promoted common sense.  Common sense made a few mistakes but keeps the peace and runs a cleaner shop so everyone's happy.

All these people are in charge.  They tell us what we can and can't do.  They hold meetings and discuss how to make us more profitable and productive.  If they do a good job then they'll be rewarded.  Their job is to make us more productive.  If they want us more productive then they must challenge us.  They must reward us for good performance.  They must teat us like they would want to be treated.

all due respect

If someone starts their sentence "with all due respect" they're trying to tell you something.  With those four little words they're saying you're an idiot.  I'm one hundred percent right and you're a hundred percent wrong.  With all due respect you're an idiot.  I'm saying I don't respect you but believe that I do because you're an idiot.  Believe me when I say I'm giving you respect but inside I'm repeating the words idiot over and over.  With all due respect idiot I'm right.  I usually interrupt someone while they're trying to make their point with that phrase.   With all due respect shutup and let me say what's right and you sit there and listen to the truth pour into your brain with all my wisdom.

2s

She was yelling at me in baby talk and shaking her little index finger.   Papa was the only word I recognized.  It was so cute.  She had this intense and serious look in her face.  I imagined her thinking it through and coming to the conclusion that if she started yelling at me it would just break my heart and I'd be really sorry.   She was trying to force feed me another pretzel and I refused.  This was the last straw for my daughter and she let me know it.

My wife taught me that it's all about picking your battles.  Some things aren't worth fighting over.  I could have pretended to eat that pretzel and she would have been happy but where does it end?  One day it's a pretzel and the next it's the color of car she wants me to buy her.  Well, I didn't eat that pretzel and her first car is going to be a piece of shit.

She is the love of my life.

fish named blue

Day 13 of having the fish named blue.  I just fed her and I watched her as she watched back at me.  I wonder if she knows how easy it would be for me to destroy her.  I could but this is no ordinary beta fish.  The last two died but not this one.  She has a will to live.  I see it in her soul.  She made me cry in the fish bowl.  Just a couple drops to prove she could.

The first fish we bought was a goldfish.  We picked out the fastest and most lively goldfish at walmart.   We took our time picking it out because we waited for 20 minutes for someone to help us.  Some walmart worker who asked which one we wanted.  She scooped him out of his home and dumped him in an over sized ziplock bag.  Then she hooked the bag up to a machine that either sucked the air out or put some in. My wife found our old fish bowl and had it laying out ready for the new fish.  He looked so alive darting back and forth in his bag until I dumped him in the bowl.  My daughter named him yellow because of his color.  She pointed at him and screamed 'yellow'.  He died 20 minutes later.  The guys at work said the water was probably different temperatures.

The second fish we bought was a goldfish.  We picked him out at petmart.  When we got home we placed the bag in the water of the tank for 20 minutes and then removed the bag.  The guy at work told me if I did this then the fish would live.  He was wrong and the fish died an hour later.  We took a sample of water in to be tested and the guy at petmart said it had too much chlorine..  That's why the fish have been dieing.  It wasn't my fault.  It was the fucking city water.  He said our bowl was too small for a goldfish and he talked us in to buying the beta fish.

I wonder if this blue beta fish knows I'm about to dump her in a bowl that over 5 fish have died in before.  I can see her looking at me through the bag.  We bought special food, water, and didn't miss a step.  This fish won't die.  Her color is amazing.  She's all blue and greenish purple....and.. gawd I need to snap out of it.  I'm in control here.  If this fish screws up once she's going down the toilet.

My wife and daughter love the new fish.  She is now part of the family.  My daughter is sitting two inches away from the bowl with a pencil in one hand and a cracker in the other.  She is drawing a picture of the fish.  My wife comes home every day and worries that blue might be floating upside down.  She tells me that blue spits her food out because she doesn't like the taste.  I didn't even know fish could taste anything.  I dropped a pebble in and watched her eat it.  Sure enough she spit it out and then swallowed it again.  She was softening up her food I think.  Maybe she was doing the same with all of us.  She already got my daughter drawing pictures of her. The cat drinks from her bowl.  Blue will swim right up to the cat's tongue.  Mercury had a rough upbringing and she can handle herself.  She was raised in a trailer with two dogs.  Why is she not eating this fish?

Blue gets something new every week.  She got a house for her tank and pebbles to line the bottom.  Her water bills are getting expensive.  My wife read that we should change the water every 3 days.  Blue only swims in the expensive water.  We don't buy the cheap stuff.  We don't want to accidentally kill her like the other two fishes.

It's amazing how something so small can change our lives.  This little $3 fish is now something to worry about, take care of, and blog about.

Random weird stuff to say:

My wife  says compromising is something quitters do


No one understands how wonderful I think I am


watched two and a half men last night and today I feel retarded


I love everything about the foo fighters except the sound of the lead singers voice, the lyrics and their style of music.


I actually watched a little puff of smoke come out when I licked my index finger and put it on my shoulder.


Bob Marley makes me feel black.


peeing always cheers me up(only works if you're implying you can have a big unit)


Google+ makes me smile when all I want to do is cry


Good thing I tested that before I pushed it like a fart...


thinking before you speak is like....uh sh*t...


my normal is crazier than your crazy

Day 5 of no cigarettes

It’s been a busy week so far.  I’m right in the middle of it and I feel like calling in sick.  I didn’t sleep well.  It’s day 5 of no cigarettes and right now I’m wondering what I’ll quit next.  Will I turn into one of those health nuts who won’t eat meat.  I might quit drinking coffee.  No cigarettes or coffee, might as well quit breathing.  I can’t say that.  I gave up smoking for my daughter.  It was a sacrafice to god.  My girl is always getting sick with a cold or flu or something.  It seems like every two weeks it’s something we have to get checked out because she has a fever.  I’m not that religious, but I do believe in god and I’m sure he has the power to heal.  I pray for Marissa every night or try to.  I say “Please god keep Marissa healthy and happy” and ask to be forgiven for my sins.  It’s not that long or thought out of a prayer, but I think god is busy and if I had an inbox full of small talk I’d probably delete it and answer the important ones.  So my baby was up coughing at 3 in the morning and I was really worried about her.  I told god I’d quit smoking if he’d help my girl stay healthy.  So, it’s 7 in the morning now and it’s been 5 days without.  I’m taking a shower and I can’t believe i’m 32 and I’ve had my last cigarette.  I’ve been off and on smoking since I was 18.  It wasn’t as bad for you back then. haha  This day is going to be terrible.  I charged my ipod the night before and I have plenty of music to mellow me out.  I have my $100 bose headphones which sound amazing and my coffee is cooling on the counter.  I’m in pretty good shape.  I hate weak coffee.  I can’t even drink it so what I’ve been doing lately is just pouring the coffee into the machine without measuring it.  I just dump a whole lot in there.  Out comes this sludge like substance 10% water and 90% coffee.  It’s not that bad but every day it’s something new.  My coffee never tastes the same.  I like that feeling when I don’t know how something is going to turn out.  I hope Marissa makes it through her day without getting sick.  Those calls to work saying “Mark, I had to pick her up early cause she has a fever” just break my heart.  Gelled my hair, got dressed, found my shoes, and I’m ready to go.  I grab my coffee and two pops for the day ahead.  I have 2 minutes to get to my pickup or I’ll be late for work.  I get in the pickup and turn the key.  Dammit, I forgot to put on deodorant! Marissa didn’t get sick and she was in a great mood that evening.  She really cheered me up.  She doesn’t care if I smell bad.

I have a few tricks to getting through the day without deodorant.  The most important one is try not to sweat.  I have to be calm all day and not work too hard.  I can do that.  The next trick is that if I do sweat I just need to avoid everyone.  I made it to 3:00 without getting caught and I was feeling pretty bad.  I didn’t talk to any of my work friends all afternoon but it was for their benefit.

Saturday morning I woke up around 8 and looked through my pants pockets.  Yep, it really happened.  It wasnt a dream.  I crushed up my cigarettes and put the pack back in my pocket.  This is a big step.  Last night felt like a strange dream.  I got up every couple hours awaken by my girl’s cough.  I have to burn that sound into my brain so I wont be tempted to smoke again.  Today was my dad’s birthday.  He was turning 52 and we were headed back west to see him.  He was going to get on his harley and ride all afternoon so we were going to see my brother first.  My sister in law just got diagnosed with MS  She was getting headaches and went partially blind in one eye.  She was happy it wasn’t cancer.  We were too.

lower your locked in interest rate

The key to messing with bankers is understanding that underneath the evil they are in fact human.  Once you dig to the human piece of them it's easy to mess with them a little.  Ask for their cell phone number and any fax, email, or office numbers they would be willing to give.  In order to find the human part of a banker you have to piss them off first.  It's like softening up a steak before you cook it.  There are plenty of different techniques to make a banker upset.  Tell them "you don't actually earn your money because you produce nothing" or "your the reason America is so screwed up".  That might not do the trick so just threaten to blog about him and say you're going to use his real name. I'm not going to use this douchebag's real name cause he ended up giving in to my demands.  He made a wise decision

A banker doesn't want to care about your problems.  All they care about is money money money.  The more they talk to you the more money they lose.  They lose clients because you're taking up all their time. So keep on talking to them and ask a lot of questions.  They'll want to give a better deal so you shutup.  More likely though they'll try to pass you off to some other officer at the bank.  Don't let them do that.  Tell them how much you like dealing with them and you don't want to work with anyone else.  Talk about leaving if they quit.  You can also tell a long story about how to stick things out and suffer through the bad times.  It makes you stronger. blah blah  The point would be god hates quitters.  You spent time on this guy or gal and you don't want to lose them.

They don't have a job caring for you. Their job is to use your weakness to become richer.  I'm not being mean.  Take for example the email below.  I applied for a refinance and then the interest rates dropped dramatically.  Why should I be punished for my decision to refinance at the wrong time?  I'm not going to show the email that prompted this response from me.  It was me making him mad and then him showing it.  After sending this email I got a call from the guy's boss saying he'd drop the rate.

I should start recording my phone calls.  I prefer email to talking on the phone.  You both should step back and look at this from my view.  I was trapped in a terrible situation.  Interest rates dropped to 3.15 percent.  I was locked at 3.85.  What person in his right mind would close at the 3.85 percent when the current rate is 3.15?  You are telling me I locked my rate.  I'm telling you it didn't matter.  I was talking about this to a guy at work today.  He said when he refinanced a long long time ago the bank said he could lock his rate and if it went down before closing they would give him that rate.  That sounds like a reasonable thing to do.  The reason why a business fails is because it quits listening to its customers or potential customers.  Im not blackmailing you.  I'm trying to help you understand your customers.  Do you realize that what your asking us to put up with is crazy?  Lets say I go to BestBuy to purchase a TV for $2000.  I put a down payment on it for $20.  The next week it goes on sale for $1500.  You still want to sell it to me for $2000 and say you must or you wont get your $20 back.  We spent time getting it off the shelf and we earned that deposit.  Now lets say I find the same tv at WalMart for $1500.  Who in their right mind would want to go back to Best Buy because they threaten not to give them their deposit back??

You must listen to me as a customer.  I'm a very reasonable person.  Please Kenny, bring this up in your next meeting.  You seem like a nice guy.  If you really like working for your company you need to help it succeed.  Tell your boss that in order to better please your customers they should give them the lowest rate from locking to closing.  The only reason I left your bank is because of the deposit!  It sounds backwards because you required a deposit thinking that would keep me there.  I went with a different bank because I was locked in with a rate at your bank and you wouldn't lower it.  I had no reason to be loyal so the only thing keeping me from quitting was a good fair deal.

The only negative thing I have is that you wouldn't give me a lower rate when they dropped and now you won't give me my $500 back.  I feel like I payed someone $500 to kick me in the balls.  

I talk a lot on facebook and at my job.  Most people say I'm wrong asking for my deposit back.  Everyone agrees that I needed to get out of the 3.875 rate if I could.  What they're saying doesn't make sense to me.  They're saying pay Quicken and leave mad.  They should be saying stay at Quicken and be happy or something like that...

The BBB rating comes with a price and so does doing the right thing.  It sounds like you make a good business from doing the right thing.