Those of you in the know, are aware that I stopped taking meds over three years ago. Nothing for pain, sugar, high BP or that niggling little thing in my head that causes headaches sometimes. For the most part I feel infinitely better because the meds I was on always seemed to make me sick. Well tonight, even though the kidney or UTI is clearing up on its own, my hip is a brutal bitch of razor blades soaked in alcohol and I have caught a hellish cold. I am about to douse my soul with original Green Death NyQuil and hope I wake up...refreshed and rested.
For those of you who were with me about 18 years ago when I tried to "Rip Van Winkle" through the first girl I ever fell for getting married to her high school sweetheart by drinking two huge bottles of NyQuill and going to sleep in December with the window open and the window fan on high...don't worry this isn't like that. I am sick and fucking whiny and wanted to tell the world.
By the way, Stacie and Alex, if you guys read this, I am really sorry for being that fucking dumb 19 year old retard and putting you guys through that. Thanks for sticking around. I think I invented EMO that night...I am really sorry to the world for that too.
If you haven't heard from me by Christmas, someone call Joe and Sarah and tell them to check on me, that smell might be the comatose fat man in the Alabama Room.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
All I want for Christmas
In a totally random and somewhat odd move for me I am asking for a Christmas gift this year. Normally I like to stay away from Christmas gifts, with exception those to my Parents and My Brother and Sister-in-Law (don't worry guys I am sure the gift cards and meals will still be forthcoming). However this year I will be treating myself to a brand new scanner and printer to finally take care of all those fantastic old photos we found in my Grandfather's home, and that has lead me to the idea of what I really would love to have.
You see in the end of this month and start of January, I will be leaving the comfort of Joe and Sarah's home and moving back into my own little apartment. Being as it seems I am to be cursed with so many good looks, cooking talent and so much raw personalty as to frighten every woman away from me thus leaving me destined to the simple bachelor life. I would like reminders of all of the people out there who do care for me. So, my idea is this...I would like all of you to send me a photograph. Be it of you alone or with your family, formal, casual or whatever. I would like to turn the walls and spaces of my little future bachelor pad into a museum of my life.
It doesn't need to be framed, I'll frame them all before I put them up, it doesn't really even have to be a physical photo, email me me a picture and I'll print it and take care of it myself. I only ask that no matter how you send it to me you include the names of everyone in the shot, ages and the date. One of the most heartbreaking things ever for me was going through all my Grandfather's memories and finding so many pictures with no names or dates and knowing that the last person who could have told me who they all were has just left this life.
I will even offer to break out the old Minolta, dust it off and shoot you myself if you want,and are close enough. That's how important this is to me. I loved photography more than anything at one point in my life, until I ruined it by making it a job instead of keeping it my art and joy. I haven't done a serious shoot in well over 10 years now, but I will fill rolls of film if I have to.
Even though I don't plan to die anytime soon, I want to be sure I leave a box full of memories behind me ...and I want names to go with those faces.
Jeffrey Works
113 S. Charity ln. or jworks@worksrecruiting.com
Warner Robins, Ga 31088
You see in the end of this month and start of January, I will be leaving the comfort of Joe and Sarah's home and moving back into my own little apartment. Being as it seems I am to be cursed with so many good looks, cooking talent and so much raw personalty as to frighten every woman away from me thus leaving me destined to the simple bachelor life. I would like reminders of all of the people out there who do care for me. So, my idea is this...I would like all of you to send me a photograph. Be it of you alone or with your family, formal, casual or whatever. I would like to turn the walls and spaces of my little future bachelor pad into a museum of my life.
It doesn't need to be framed, I'll frame them all before I put them up, it doesn't really even have to be a physical photo, email me me a picture and I'll print it and take care of it myself. I only ask that no matter how you send it to me you include the names of everyone in the shot, ages and the date. One of the most heartbreaking things ever for me was going through all my Grandfather's memories and finding so many pictures with no names or dates and knowing that the last person who could have told me who they all were has just left this life.
I will even offer to break out the old Minolta, dust it off and shoot you myself if you want,and are close enough. That's how important this is to me. I loved photography more than anything at one point in my life, until I ruined it by making it a job instead of keeping it my art and joy. I haven't done a serious shoot in well over 10 years now, but I will fill rolls of film if I have to.
Even though I don't plan to die anytime soon, I want to be sure I leave a box full of memories behind me ...and I want names to go with those faces.
Jeffrey Works
113 S. Charity ln. or jworks@worksrecruiting.com
Warner Robins, Ga 31088
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Quote of the week...
"She is a good friend and a warm box of awesome that I would love to find in my size. The chip at the bottom of the bag, all the flavor but you can never quite reach it."
Then I just threw my suit bag over my shoulder and walked away, I know how to make an exit.
Then I just threw my suit bag over my shoulder and walked away, I know how to make an exit.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving morning 2009
Ok first off there will be some pretty strong language in this note, so if you are easily offended or under the age of 18 STOP reading now.
I woke up in an excellent mood today, ready for a great holiday and glorious meal that will all but destroy my diet. Oh well, such is life and I am happy with life at the moment. While trying to decide if I really wanted to go up to Rose Hill and eat breakfast and reflect my brother, Joe, let me know we need a few things for meal prep still and asked if I was going out if I wouldn't mind picking them up. Of course I didn't mind, so off to the Kroger I went.
When I got to Kroger the parking lot was packed, as I expected it would be, but I was feeling chipper so i didn't let the crowd get to me and I headed on in. I needed aluminum foil, some sodas for our guests, tea for me and some dog food. Hell if I am eating good then the babies are eating good so I got them some treats too, I love me some Spike and Missy. Next i decided to grab some sweet rolls from the bakery for Joe, Sarah and I to munch on while preparing dinner today, those rolls looked absolutely delicious I couldn't wait to get them home.
Now, with all my goodies loaded up I head to the checkouts and as expected the lines are freaking packed. Fuggit, I am in no hurry so I pick one and wait my turn. Things were sailing right along and I patiently waited till the guy in front of me placed his stuff on the conveyor and put the little divider up and then I started placing my order up to be checked out next.
Ok, here is where it goes awry, those of you that know me know I have a FEW quirks...don't touch me needlessly and don't touch my food EVER. I also have a certain way I like to put my groceries on the line for checkout usually with breads, produce and soft products last so they are bagged last and don't get squished. That is not unreasonable, to my mind.
Anyway all my things loaded up, I place the divider behind my order for the guy behind me to start placing his groceries up. On the what I would guess is a 6 foot conveyor my groceries are taking up maybe 2 feet. Well, as the attractive young girl (with blue in her hair, God I love blue hair) starts ringing in my order I look back and the asscrack mother of trash behind me is picking through my shit and piling it all up so he can make more room for his stuff.
Yeah, I didn't take it well and MAYBE just maybe I overreacted but here is how it went down from there.
"Excuse me, would you mind not handling my shit? I really don't want flattened sweet rolls because you need to cram your fruit loops on the line." I said in what might have possibly been a hostile tone.
"Huh?" The moron asked. I should point out now that I was in full Bama regalia(hoodie and hat) and the dog licking bitch boy was wearing UGA gear...this couldn't have went well.
"My fucking food, in your filthy mitts, could you please stop touching it. I don't really want you piling shit on top of my sweet rolls, because I, in fact, want sweet ROLLS not fucking pancakes." I somewhat perturbedly stated.
"Man, you got a potty mouth, chill out" I was informed by the mental giant.
"Really? I am about to have a potty-fucking-fist when I shove it through your shit-fucking head. Now, de-paw my motherfucking sweet rolls asshat." I advised in a less than cordial tone.
At this point he set my stuff down and shut up, and refused to make further eye contact, and the blue haired cashier who had never even batted an eye had just kept on ringing my order and simply smiled and asked how I was doing.
"I am doing great, how are you?" I replied completely calm as if nothing strange was going on.
I was still steamed but I wanted this asshat behind me to think I'd drop him and walk away without ever thinking about him again, so nonchalance was key here. I finished my transaction, place my bags back into my cart and told the cashier to have a happy Thanksgiving. I then turned to numbnuts behind me and said "Roll Tide Motherfucker" and walked out the door, smiling.
I was still so ill, I had forgotten why I bought sweet rolls and stopped in the Sonic drive in on the way home and bought us all breakfast. Oh well, those rolls will be awesome tomorrow morning I guess.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
I woke up in an excellent mood today, ready for a great holiday and glorious meal that will all but destroy my diet. Oh well, such is life and I am happy with life at the moment. While trying to decide if I really wanted to go up to Rose Hill and eat breakfast and reflect my brother, Joe, let me know we need a few things for meal prep still and asked if I was going out if I wouldn't mind picking them up. Of course I didn't mind, so off to the Kroger I went.
When I got to Kroger the parking lot was packed, as I expected it would be, but I was feeling chipper so i didn't let the crowd get to me and I headed on in. I needed aluminum foil, some sodas for our guests, tea for me and some dog food. Hell if I am eating good then the babies are eating good so I got them some treats too, I love me some Spike and Missy. Next i decided to grab some sweet rolls from the bakery for Joe, Sarah and I to munch on while preparing dinner today, those rolls looked absolutely delicious I couldn't wait to get them home.
Now, with all my goodies loaded up I head to the checkouts and as expected the lines are freaking packed. Fuggit, I am in no hurry so I pick one and wait my turn. Things were sailing right along and I patiently waited till the guy in front of me placed his stuff on the conveyor and put the little divider up and then I started placing my order up to be checked out next.
Ok, here is where it goes awry, those of you that know me know I have a FEW quirks...don't touch me needlessly and don't touch my food EVER. I also have a certain way I like to put my groceries on the line for checkout usually with breads, produce and soft products last so they are bagged last and don't get squished. That is not unreasonable, to my mind.
Anyway all my things loaded up, I place the divider behind my order for the guy behind me to start placing his groceries up. On the what I would guess is a 6 foot conveyor my groceries are taking up maybe 2 feet. Well, as the attractive young girl (with blue in her hair, God I love blue hair) starts ringing in my order I look back and the asscrack mother of trash behind me is picking through my shit and piling it all up so he can make more room for his stuff.
Yeah, I didn't take it well and MAYBE just maybe I overreacted but here is how it went down from there.
"Excuse me, would you mind not handling my shit? I really don't want flattened sweet rolls because you need to cram your fruit loops on the line." I said in what might have possibly been a hostile tone.
"Huh?" The moron asked. I should point out now that I was in full Bama regalia(hoodie and hat) and the dog licking bitch boy was wearing UGA gear...this couldn't have went well.
"My fucking food, in your filthy mitts, could you please stop touching it. I don't really want you piling shit on top of my sweet rolls, because I, in fact, want sweet ROLLS not fucking pancakes." I somewhat perturbedly stated.
"Man, you got a potty mouth, chill out" I was informed by the mental giant.
"Really? I am about to have a potty-fucking-fist when I shove it through your shit-fucking head. Now, de-paw my motherfucking sweet rolls asshat." I advised in a less than cordial tone.
At this point he set my stuff down and shut up, and refused to make further eye contact, and the blue haired cashier who had never even batted an eye had just kept on ringing my order and simply smiled and asked how I was doing.
"I am doing great, how are you?" I replied completely calm as if nothing strange was going on.
I was still steamed but I wanted this asshat behind me to think I'd drop him and walk away without ever thinking about him again, so nonchalance was key here. I finished my transaction, place my bags back into my cart and told the cashier to have a happy Thanksgiving. I then turned to numbnuts behind me and said "Roll Tide Motherfucker" and walked out the door, smiling.
I was still so ill, I had forgotten why I bought sweet rolls and stopped in the Sonic drive in on the way home and bought us all breakfast. Oh well, those rolls will be awesome tomorrow morning I guess.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
In my head
Have you ever woke up with a song in your head? I mean out of nowhere, fresh from dreamland you wake up with a song in your head. It wasn't playing on the radio, wasn't the last song you heard before bed, but you wake up and it is there word for word and the melody repeating in your thoughts. That happened to me this morning with the song "A Long December" by Counting Crows.
Now let me defend my musical tastes, just in case you have something against Counting Crows. I love music in general, all of it. If you were to shuffle my iPod right now you are going to have upwards of 9k songs to pick from. The selection has a ton of Old Punk like The Ramones, Black Flag, Minor Threat and Fugazi. New(er) Punk like The Distillers, Rancid, Greenday and Blink 182. I have damn near every song Garth Brooks and George Strait have done plus some other country here and there. Rock legends like Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Creedence Clearwater Revival and The Who. Pop songs from Justin Timberlake, Jordan Knight and Pink. Hair Gods Poison's greatest hits, selected works from White Lion and Guns-n-Roses. Great Rock that to me defies categorization Dinosaur Jr., Social Distortion and Cake. And of course the work of The Goddess herself Tori Amos and the massively talented Sara Bareilles. My favorite band ever The Cure, greatest rap group ever Outkast, 90's Grunge, 80's Hair, Classical, Spoken Word, etc... etc... etc... ad nauseam.
The point is I LOVE music and have a huge sampling to choose from that it makes it interesting to me that one song that I can not remember the last time I heard was randomly stuck in my head this morning. I think maybe my Inner Jeffrey, my subconscious, is speaking to me.
I am sitting as I type this blog and listening to the song and breaking down the lyrics to see what hidden meaning my subconscious is secretly sending me messages with. Here is what I have chosen to hear.
"And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass "
What I took from that verse is not to over think things, enjoy them as they happen, savor them for what they are (not what they could or couldn't be). Hope springs eternal, don't deny it, embrace it, nurture it and appreciate the opportunity as it happens or you'll regret it when its gone. The cold hard past will best serve you staying there (in the past) and the warmth of something new is always just around the corner. Live life like I always had, in the moment and without fear or failures and risks.
But that's just my take on it. Maybe Inner Jeffrey just thinks I'll need to wear a hoodie today, it might be a little chilly.
Now let me defend my musical tastes, just in case you have something against Counting Crows. I love music in general, all of it. If you were to shuffle my iPod right now you are going to have upwards of 9k songs to pick from. The selection has a ton of Old Punk like The Ramones, Black Flag, Minor Threat and Fugazi. New(er) Punk like The Distillers, Rancid, Greenday and Blink 182. I have damn near every song Garth Brooks and George Strait have done plus some other country here and there. Rock legends like Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Creedence Clearwater Revival and The Who. Pop songs from Justin Timberlake, Jordan Knight and Pink. Hair Gods Poison's greatest hits, selected works from White Lion and Guns-n-Roses. Great Rock that to me defies categorization Dinosaur Jr., Social Distortion and Cake. And of course the work of The Goddess herself Tori Amos and the massively talented Sara Bareilles. My favorite band ever The Cure, greatest rap group ever Outkast, 90's Grunge, 80's Hair, Classical, Spoken Word, etc... etc... etc... ad nauseam.
The point is I LOVE music and have a huge sampling to choose from that it makes it interesting to me that one song that I can not remember the last time I heard was randomly stuck in my head this morning. I think maybe my Inner Jeffrey, my subconscious, is speaking to me.
I am sitting as I type this blog and listening to the song and breaking down the lyrics to see what hidden meaning my subconscious is secretly sending me messages with. Here is what I have chosen to hear.
"And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass "
What I took from that verse is not to over think things, enjoy them as they happen, savor them for what they are (not what they could or couldn't be). Hope springs eternal, don't deny it, embrace it, nurture it and appreciate the opportunity as it happens or you'll regret it when its gone. The cold hard past will best serve you staying there (in the past) and the warmth of something new is always just around the corner. Live life like I always had, in the moment and without fear or failures and risks.
But that's just my take on it. Maybe Inner Jeffrey just thinks I'll need to wear a hoodie today, it might be a little chilly.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Home
I need to blog something because its been a day or two, and to be honest I have a lot going on in my mind. Things I have to sort through, things that seem wicked awesome and too good to be happening to me and the normal my mind is walking in the wilderness again stuff. i will sort some of that stuff out but let me throw out a quick blog on my return to work at my old store to satisfy my need to blog. Hope it holds you over till I get something better from between my ears.
Today was my first day back at work at my old store, I returned to many people smiling and being really happy to see me again. I have to be honest it surprised me.
I have a lot of people I really like there and even a couple that I call friends, but it was the other people that really shocked me. People I hadn't considered would have a positive opinion of my return that were smiling and shaking my hand, people that came from the other end of the building just because they heard I was back. I had one guy that I have know since my first stint with Lowe's that even grabbed me and hugged me. I am totally not a touchy person, but I even let that slide. I mean how can you let your phobias and hang ups interrupt someone who is that happy to see you?
I guess the main source of my surprise is that while at work, I am really an ass. I don't mean in my normal sarcastic, dry and somewhat dark humor kind of way either. I am the guy that knows the best way to get a job done and will take over any situation to get it done right. I lead by example and will call anyone out on their bullshit. I am pro company all the way, when people start bad mouthing my company I defend it. Not blindly, but I work for a great company that does treat it's employees very well.
Finally, I am the kind of person to say what is on my mind. Like it or lump it you rarely have to guess what is on my mind. Just ask, I'll tell you.
I have found a lot of people will dislike you for that, today I found out just as many will forgive it and even appreciate it, given time and absence.
I found out that you really can go home, and that there is really no place like home.
Today was my first day back at work at my old store, I returned to many people smiling and being really happy to see me again. I have to be honest it surprised me.
I have a lot of people I really like there and even a couple that I call friends, but it was the other people that really shocked me. People I hadn't considered would have a positive opinion of my return that were smiling and shaking my hand, people that came from the other end of the building just because they heard I was back. I had one guy that I have know since my first stint with Lowe's that even grabbed me and hugged me. I am totally not a touchy person, but I even let that slide. I mean how can you let your phobias and hang ups interrupt someone who is that happy to see you?
I guess the main source of my surprise is that while at work, I am really an ass. I don't mean in my normal sarcastic, dry and somewhat dark humor kind of way either. I am the guy that knows the best way to get a job done and will take over any situation to get it done right. I lead by example and will call anyone out on their bullshit. I am pro company all the way, when people start bad mouthing my company I defend it. Not blindly, but I work for a great company that does treat it's employees very well.
Finally, I am the kind of person to say what is on my mind. Like it or lump it you rarely have to guess what is on my mind. Just ask, I'll tell you.
I have found a lot of people will dislike you for that, today I found out just as many will forgive it and even appreciate it, given time and absence.
I found out that you really can go home, and that there is really no place like home.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Interviewing
This morning I went on a job interview. Now even though it was for a move within the same company I work for, I dressed up and practiced my answers in the mirror. I think when you go on a job interview you need to go and show that you want the job. Nothing says "I don't want this job" more than someone who can't interview or even look the part.
Being in management I have had to do several first, second and final interviews with people who "want" a job. Here are some of the most comical mistakes I have personally seen from my experiences. I am writing this in a "how to" format but really it is more to relate some of the oddness of people who want a job but do not know how to get one. Plus, I didn't have any great idea for a blog today.
1. Do NOT wear a hat, or ripped jeans and T-shirts. You may only be interviewing to be a cashier or night stocker, but nothing makes a first impression more than the clothes you wear. As an interviewer I will see you before I speak to you and without wanting to I will assess your appearance and start forming my opinion of you. I once interviewed a guy that came in for a first interview wear dirty jeans, a Tim McGraw T-shirt, an absolutely filthy ball cap and boots caked in mud. I don't expect you to dress in your Sunday go to meeting finest but come on...really? Wear clean clothes and as a rule I try to dress to a standard above what might be a step or two above what is required of the job I am interviewing for. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt may be acceptable once you have the job, but a polo and khakis say you care about about looking good and really want the job, a nice oxford and slacks with a pair of wingtips says even more but that's just me.
2. Bathe. This should be easy, but I once interviewed a man that smelled so bad I had to open the door halfway through the interview and excuse myself for a moment to "Take an urgent business call." If your BO is this bad, you HAVE to be able to smell yourself, please for the love of God invest in some soap and a hot shower. Not only did this guy's stink leave a lasting impression on me, it interrupted his interview and I failed to glean one good comment from any of his answers because all I could hope for was him to finish and get out of the tiny little office with me.
3. Do NOT smell like a perfume truck that just collided with a freight train of after shave. This kinda goes hand in hand with bathing but even clean people often make the mistake of dousing themselves with fragrance. It has the same effect as BO, stink is stink.
4. Speak Clearly and intelligently. Do not mumble, do not use words you do not know the meaning of and never EVER talk to your interviewer like they are your "homie". I had a lady in on her final interview that spoke so low that I had to ask her to repeat everything she said, in fact the only word I always understood her to say was "inconsequentially". As in, "At my last employer I was the only person trained to build databases and excel spreadsheets. Inconsequentially I became a valued asset to the team."
I have a friend who interviews for her firm often in Atlanta, she told a story once about a guy who came in for an accounting team manager position. He was dressed in a very professional suit, spoke clear and answered questions well. Unfortunately, towards the end of the interview he began to get comfortable and when asked how he would prove to be an asset to the firm he replied...
"Aww you know shawty I'd just be about it...y'know what I'm saying?"
guess what stuck in her mind most after the interview.
5. Act like you want the job. I don't mean be desperate, but nonchalance isn't going to impress anyone. A standard question in our first interview series is "How do you feel you will prove to be a valuable team member if hired to work here?" I have had some crazy answers to this one but my all time favorite reply was...
"Well, you know man, mainly I don't need this job. I just need something to hold it down until something better comes along. I mean I got a lot more going on than just wearing a little vest and watering plants."
W(hat)TF does that have to do with the question, W(hy)TF would you even say something like that in an interview and W(ho)TF does this guy think he is? I wear a little red vest all day long for my job, so does my boss, his boss and on up the chain till you get to the guys that run the company...and guess what they wear...and this guy was too good to wear one?
I assumed he was right, that he didn't need the job, and he didn't get it. Inconsequently, it sucks to be him...
Being in management I have had to do several first, second and final interviews with people who "want" a job. Here are some of the most comical mistakes I have personally seen from my experiences. I am writing this in a "how to" format but really it is more to relate some of the oddness of people who want a job but do not know how to get one. Plus, I didn't have any great idea for a blog today.
1. Do NOT wear a hat, or ripped jeans and T-shirts. You may only be interviewing to be a cashier or night stocker, but nothing makes a first impression more than the clothes you wear. As an interviewer I will see you before I speak to you and without wanting to I will assess your appearance and start forming my opinion of you. I once interviewed a guy that came in for a first interview wear dirty jeans, a Tim McGraw T-shirt, an absolutely filthy ball cap and boots caked in mud. I don't expect you to dress in your Sunday go to meeting finest but come on...really? Wear clean clothes and as a rule I try to dress to a standard above what might be a step or two above what is required of the job I am interviewing for. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt may be acceptable once you have the job, but a polo and khakis say you care about about looking good and really want the job, a nice oxford and slacks with a pair of wingtips says even more but that's just me.
2. Bathe. This should be easy, but I once interviewed a man that smelled so bad I had to open the door halfway through the interview and excuse myself for a moment to "Take an urgent business call." If your BO is this bad, you HAVE to be able to smell yourself, please for the love of God invest in some soap and a hot shower. Not only did this guy's stink leave a lasting impression on me, it interrupted his interview and I failed to glean one good comment from any of his answers because all I could hope for was him to finish and get out of the tiny little office with me.
3. Do NOT smell like a perfume truck that just collided with a freight train of after shave. This kinda goes hand in hand with bathing but even clean people often make the mistake of dousing themselves with fragrance. It has the same effect as BO, stink is stink.
4. Speak Clearly and intelligently. Do not mumble, do not use words you do not know the meaning of and never EVER talk to your interviewer like they are your "homie". I had a lady in on her final interview that spoke so low that I had to ask her to repeat everything she said, in fact the only word I always understood her to say was "inconsequentially". As in, "At my last employer I was the only person trained to build databases and excel spreadsheets. Inconsequentially I became a valued asset to the team."
I have a friend who interviews for her firm often in Atlanta, she told a story once about a guy who came in for an accounting team manager position. He was dressed in a very professional suit, spoke clear and answered questions well. Unfortunately, towards the end of the interview he began to get comfortable and when asked how he would prove to be an asset to the firm he replied...
"Aww you know shawty I'd just be about it...y'know what I'm saying?"
guess what stuck in her mind most after the interview.
5. Act like you want the job. I don't mean be desperate, but nonchalance isn't going to impress anyone. A standard question in our first interview series is "How do you feel you will prove to be a valuable team member if hired to work here?" I have had some crazy answers to this one but my all time favorite reply was...
"Well, you know man, mainly I don't need this job. I just need something to hold it down until something better comes along. I mean I got a lot more going on than just wearing a little vest and watering plants."
W(hat)TF does that have to do with the question, W(hy)TF would you even say something like that in an interview and W(ho)TF does this guy think he is? I wear a little red vest all day long for my job, so does my boss, his boss and on up the chain till you get to the guys that run the company...and guess what they wear...and this guy was too good to wear one?
I assumed he was right, that he didn't need the job, and he didn't get it. Inconsequently, it sucks to be him...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
A repost from my FB Notes...
I just wanted to repost this story from my Facebook notes, I really love this story (now that i am far removed from it) and wanted it to be up and easier to share with the world...
For the love of a waffle
For the love of a waffle
Ok, before I start this little mini rant, let me say I know I could improve the way I do things a little better and yes I know I should have a backup plan for circumstances such as this.I don't keep checks, they are archaic and lets be honest here little pieces of paper with all your personnel information on them just laying around for someone to find do not seem like something a responsible person would have in this modern age of internet banking, PINs and debit cards that even vending machines accept now. Cash? pfft who carries cash anymore? I guess people who know that shit does in fact happen.
That said I am ill and need to vent.
Friday night I left work and went to the grocery store to buy my weekly groceries, its how I live. Every Friday I go to the store and buy food and necessities for the weekend and upcoming week. I do not keep a whole lot of extra stuff in the apartment because, as a single man, extra foods tend to spoil before I get to them. So after shopping for about 45 minutes I had my cart full of groceries and when I went to pay for them with my Bank of America, Visa Debit card I got and unauthorized transaction message..."probably just a glitch let's try again"..."Unauthorized again, maybe as credit?"..."Unauthorized still, I am sorry sir" the politely pierced semi attractive college checkout girl said in a somewhat mocking tone. I walked out of the store feeling more than a little embarrassed and made a show of pulling out the sidekick and calling the number on the back of my card as I went to illustrate that this situation was obviously a mistake that a phone call will clear up quickly.
It wasn't.
Bank of America's computer thanked me for my call, assured me I was important to them and then told me the call center was closed until 9am the next morning. That night I had the last of the frozen dinners I had bought the week before and was forced to drink tap water.
I wake up before work call BoA to get this whole card mess straightened out before I head into Saturday morning work and after 15 minutes of BoA's computer telling me how important I am I get to talk to a real live person, Jeremy. Jeremy asks who I am, what my "secret pass phrase" is, how many accounts I have, mother's maiden name, state account in question was opened in, my home address, phone number and finally "How can WE help you today?" I wanted to ask Jeremy why the polite computer didn't share all the answers to his questions with him, I had to answer those questions just to be put on hold to answer them again, but I was worried Jeremy might need to put me back on hold to find that answer and I did have to be at work in an hour.
I explained the night before's problems with buying my groceries, the embarrassment and the fact that BoA said I had plenty of money just waiting for me both online and through their super polite computer. Being an obviously savvy financial guru, Jeremy pulled up my information and determined..."Uh, well, ahh it looks like your card has been blocked."
Great Zeus! I am so glad I called this guy, I had no idea.
Hopeful not to insult Jeremy's keen powers of assistance, I dared to ask why my card had been blocked. I mean, I didn't call and ask it to be blocked, so not being a CPA or Banker I didn't really understand the ends and outs here. "Ummm, well, it looks like, umm, I think that 'THE SYSTEM' blocked you card, ahh well kinda by mistake"
THE SYSTEM and "by mistake" concern me a bit. I know these terms as a layman, but surely they have much more far reaching and adverse definitions in the world of banking.
I dare again to ask Jeremy if it is at all possible that he have my card unblocked. "Umm, well can you hold a minute please?" Jeremy asks, but obviously he knows the answer is yes because before I can reply I hear the polite computer's voice telling me all about some new programs and offers that BoA has setup for me their "valued customer".
Nice of the computer to keep me company while I wait on the mastermind of Wall Street to come back. The conversation is limited though, I mean I am sure that the "Keep the Change" program is awesome and I am glad that someone will be right with me because my call is important to them but, it seems to be the only thing the nice computer can say for the entire 10 minutes Jeremy is gone solving my issue.
"Umm, Sir?" I hear Jeremy ask, as if I would have abandoned this call after only a half an hour. "Yes Jeremy i am still here" I reply.
"I can't unblock your card, but I did get you a new card sent out overnight. You should get it in the mail, umm tomorrow. Ahhh, well umm, I guess really it'd be like Monday because umm today is Saturday and the mail doesn't, umm work on Sunday."
After asking Jeremy if there were no better options, he did come up with "You could just go to the nearest branch and make a withdrawal, umm I guess."
OMG! Why hadn't I thought of this...Oh, because I have just moved to Troy and the closest branch is either one hour and forty-five minutes away in DeFuniak Springs Florida or two hours away in Columbus Georgia, and I now have 15 minutes to get to work.
"Oh, that sucks. Umm is there anything else I can do for you today sir?"
"that sucks"??? I began to doubt Jeremy was the mental giant I had him pegged for, I lost my patience and hung up the call and left for work. That day I got by on some bottled water we were giving away as a gift for people who bought MDA shamrocks and some of those lemon girl scout cookies someone had left in the breakroom. At home I steamed a cup of rice for dinner and had more tap water. Troy was beginning to feel like Hell.
Sunday it snowed in Troy.
I went to work, had another bottled water and about 20 peppermints I found stashed in the Admin office. That night I steamed more rice, found a single serve can of Lima Beans and a bag of microwave popcorn and more tap water.
Monday, I was off work and waited the arrival of the mail with baited breath, I practically pounced on the mailman as she approached the apartment complex boxes. I offered to marry her if she could just find it in her heart to find my mail for me first, I explained the card situation and she explained that the mail was divided into the stacks and arranged to go into the boxes in order and she could not get my mail for me.
Now I remembered why I was divorced.
Alas, when she finally got to my box, she handed me my mail and there was no card in there. Dejected, I walked back to my apartment steamed more rice and drank more tap water. I called BoA again, but after 20 minutes of company with the friendly computer I just gave up and figured that I would just get my card tomorrow and I could occupy my self by just playing a little World of Warcraft.
"Account Blocked, invalid card information on file"
Oh well, I will just stream a movie on Netflix.
"Account Blocked, invalid card information on file"
I watched some of my old DVDs and played Freecell, last night I ate the last of my rice and drank an obscene amount of tap water. I purposely stayed up late so I could sleep until after the mail ran and then I was gonna treat myself to a huge breakfast at the local Waffle House.
Tuesday morning, 11am, I walk down and check the mail. In my box was a single plain white envelope. My God, my heart felt like it actually skipped a beat, I could taste the syrupy waffle goodness and my first soda in 4 days already.
The envelope was my car insurance bill from State Farm. Tears actually ran down my face at this point.
Angry beyond reason, I stormed back to my apartment, got on the phone and spent 20 minutes cussing at the friendly computer until Melinda picks up the line. I am pretty sure the first words she hears from me are "... damn douchebag fucks" Nonplussed, Melinda introduces herself and asks me my name, what my "secret pass phrase" is, how many accounts I have, mother's maiden name, state account in question was opened in, my home address, phone number and finally "How can I help you today?"
"Melinda, the first thing you need to know is I am extremely angry, so putting me on hold for anything longer than a fart is going to make me explode." I state as an opening to show just how serious I am. I explain that Jeremy promised me a card yesterday, and I didn't get it, that I was understanding that things happen so I waited and it still didn't come today. I told her I was very upset and "wanted a waffle so bad I was thinking of putting my spleen on eBay (only I can't because my account is blocked,because of invalid card information on file) just for the cash to get one."
To her credit Melinda stayed calm through my tirade and without ever putting me on hold determined that my new card had in fact not been sent out until Monday and not through the US mail but via Fed Ex overnight and I should receive it today. Melinda even had a tracking number if I would like to write it down. I did, and then apologized if I had seemed rude. Melinda assured me it was alright and that she was sure it was a very stressful situation I was dealing with and that she understood my being "perturbed". I thanked her again for her help and told her there wasn't anything else I needed assistance with at this time.
I went to my computer, logged into fedex.com and entered my tracking number...
Mar 2, 2009 9:07 AM /Shipment information sent to FedEx
Mar 2, 2009 8:50 PM COLUMBUS, GA/Picked up
Mar 2, 2009 10:42 PM COLUMBUS, GA/Left FedEx origin facility
Mar 3, 2009 12:16 AM ATLANTA, GA/Shipment exception
Mar 3, 2009 1:08 AM MEMPHIS, TN/Arrived at FedEx location
Mar 3, 2009 4:25 AM MEMPHIS, TN/Departed FedEx location
Mar 3, 2009 5:03 AM BIRMINGHAM, AL/At dest sort facility
Mar 3, 2009 7:40 AM MONTGOMERY, AL/At local FedEx facility
Mar 3, 2009 8:16 AM MONTGOMERY, AL/On FedEx vehicle for delivery
MY CARD WAS SHIPPED FROM 2 HOURS AWAY IN COLUMBUS GEORGIA YESTERDAY AND WENT TO ATLANTA GA. THEN MEMPHIS TENNESSEE THEN TO BIRMINGHAM ALABAMA TO GO TO MONTGOMERY ALABAMA TO BE PUT ON A TRUCK TO COME TO TROY!!!!!!
In about 23 hours my card left from about 100 miles away on a 1300 mile airplane ride to end up about 45 miles away and be put on a truck and as of 1:00pm still has gotten to me.
My Father often uses the expression "going around your ass to get to your elbow" now I know what that means.
And all I really want is a waffle.
/end rant
My Brother Jack
I want to see if this helps shed a bit of light onto the root of my unique sense of humor. I think my sense of humor is an excellent amalgamation of my Father's dry wit and my Mother's quick intellect and quirky humor. This story will also add some understanding to just how different growing up in my Family had to be compared to all you "normal" people, and probably raise just a little pity and a ton of amazement for my Brother Joe. How that kid turned out as well adjusted...(well for a Works boy anyway) is beyond me sometimes. Also, you'll get to find out why my dear Friend Jacki is truly such an amazing person.
Now, my immediate Family consists of four of us, Pop and Mom Works, me and my Brother Joe. I am the eldest child, a whopping 6 years older than Joe. The day that Joe was born is the first day that I remember almost the entire day of, before that I have snatches of events and times but not a whole day. It was important to me, I was going to be a Big Brother and there were a lot of responsibilities that went with that. Mom and Dad prepared me for this a I have to say for his first three years I was a dutiful Big Brother I looked over him when he was an infant, watched him crawl and always keep my Matchbox cars and Tonka trucks away from where he might get hurt on them. When he was a toddler I would walk along side to keep him from falling...or at least run to tell Mom that he fell...again.
When Joe was three years old though my nine year old creativity and imagination got the best of me, well of Joe really. I started to make up stories for Joe about our older brother, Jack. How he was big, strong and could wrestle bears (just like the Legendary Paul "Bear" Bryant). Joe would listen, and smile and play along to the stories I told of Jack flying planes, climbing mountains and jumping out of airplanes just like Dad used to. Joe loved these stories, and I strung them on for probably more than a year until one day Joe's mind started to working and as any normal three or four year old's would.
"Bubba, why don't Jack ever send us birthday cards, or come home for Christmas presents?"
Unflappable and quick thinking even at nine I had an answer.
"Joey, I am not supposed to tell you, but Jack got ate by a bear while wrestling it in the circus in France."
Of course his sweet little face crinkled up and flushed immediately and as his first sobs turned to moans then plaintive wails of grief, I knew my proverbial goose was cooked ( if I'd known what proverbial meant) .
As Momma came into the room to see what was wrong, Joe ran to her and was near inconsolable.
"What's wrong my baby?" Momma asked the crying toddler.
"Bubba said Jack got ate by a bear Momma" my Baby Brother wailed.
"Well, that's not something Jeffy should tell you, come on its nap time now."
I listened as Mom took Joe to his room and sweet talked him till he fell asleep, had I knew what it meant I would have been waiting for the other shoe to drop as Momma came out of the room and pulled the door to behind her. I was in for it now, and she was gonna tell Dad about this too when he got home, things looked bleak.
"Jeffy, you really need to be more careful about the kinds of things you tell Joey. Remember you are his Big Brother. You shouldn't hurt his feelings like that."
That was it? Of course, I took Momma's words to heart and I guess more out of gratitude of not getting punished or have Dad sit me down for one of his talks, I never brought Jack up again. In fact Jack only made two more appearances in my Families Life after that.
The next time was when Joe was in Kindergarten and was asked to name all the members of his Family. Momma was volunteering in his class as a teacher's helper and had to correct him when after naming Dad, Mom, Bubba(me), Mawmaw and Pawpaw and Pepper(our dog at the time) he named his Biggest Brother Jack...
I am not sure how it happened but somehow poor Joe had gone all this time and not realized that our Brother Jack was just my imagination and stories. Better yet, willingly or not my Mother had become my accomplice in what is still my best hoax ever! I guess Joe thought after I had "let slip" the tale of poor Jack's demise that Jack had become something we just didn't talk about anymore, it was too hard and sad for the Family.
Incidentally, from that day forward Joe has never fallen for any of my crap, and to this day I still see that look of disbelief in his eyes when I tell him anything that might sound just a bit too much like a tall tale.
The next time Jack surfaced was about 9 or 10 years ago, somehow in retelling the tale of Jack to some friends I thought it would be fun to see if I was a good enough story teller to sell a grown up on the story of my brother who was eaten by a bear...in France.
(Jacki, I love you and I am almost sorry for putting this story out there...almost)
I had a darling new friend named Jacki, who is honestly the sweetest and most loving person I know who isn't my Mother. Early in our friendship I learned that Jacki trusted me enough that if I told her something was the way it was she believed me or would at least play along to help me get a few jokes in and then I'd let her off the hook and we'd all have a great laugh.
Well, after sitting around and having just finished telling my other friends about Jack, Jacki came in and inquired what we were talking about. I started telling her about my older brother and how I had admired him so as a child and how it crushed out family when he had been killed by a bear while performing with the circus...in France. I mentioned how hard a memory it was for everyone in my family and that all the men had an unwritten rule to NEVER mention Jack around Momma.
During the whole time I looked around at everyone who knew the truth about Jack, and saw them hiding smiles as they could all see that Jacki was wrapped in attention and falling for this story. Sometime after I finished the story but before I let Jacki off the hook, she had to leave. we all had a good laugh and argued about whether she had really fallen for my outlandish tale or not.
Then I didn't think about it again, until about two months later when Jacki came over to my parent's house with me to meet my Mom and Dad for the first time. Add to that fact that my Families Best Friends, my second Parents and Brother from another Mother, The Duffy's were in town to visit and this was a huge thing. I had warned Jacki about the root of my humor and how my Dad and Uncle Bill were absolutely incorrigible and almost merciless at the ribbing they would give someone. I warned her to be careful with everything she said to them because even the most innocent sounding question would lead her down a slippery slope.
Jacki was a champ that night too, she walked right into the living room was introduced to everyone and sat right down next to Mom and joined right into all the talk just like one of the family(which she is, by the by). She avoided all the verbal traps Dad and Uncle Bill put out for her, and even caught Uncle Bill at his own game when he asked her if she had ever seen a beaver.
"I know better than to even respond to that" she said
We all fell out as Uncle Bill insisted that he didn't know what she meant, that it was an honest question.
"I think this young Lady is too smart for you William Duffy" my Aunt Peg said and we all had a laugh.
That lead to Jacki getting to hear "The Dam Story"(which I will have to post up one day soon) and then as the conversation fell back into reminisces of our Families growing up, someone brought up the story of Jack. We talked about all the things Jack had done and Joe being so upset to learn that Jack had been eaten by a circus bear...in France.
With the most soft and sweet voice ever and kindness in her eyes Jacki looked over at my Mother and said
"I hope this isn't upsetting you, them talking about your loss so."
Silence...and then slowly all eyes in the room turn to me.
I squirmed under the stares of Momma and Aunt Peg, but reveled in the approving nods and winks of Dad and Uncle Bill and the raucous laughter already pouring from Sean.
"Young man, you didn't." Aunt Peg said
"OH YES HE DID!!!" My Uncle Bill's loud Brooklyn accent boomed through the room.
I sat there in disbelief, I had completely forgotten that I had tried to sell Jacki on the story of Jack and that I had never told her the truth of that story. But now it seems that I pulled off my greatest hoax a second time.
We all laughed and enjoyed the night as I laid out the truth of the story to her and how Jacki had now become an inseparable part of it.
Its still one of the best stories ever, but as Jacki and I have become better Friends and I have really learned just how intelligent and strong a Lady she is, I wonder how much of that night was just Jacki showing that she belonged in the room full of Works and Duffy and how much was her playing the part of the sweet young Lady that believed the things her Friend told her.
Now, my immediate Family consists of four of us, Pop and Mom Works, me and my Brother Joe. I am the eldest child, a whopping 6 years older than Joe. The day that Joe was born is the first day that I remember almost the entire day of, before that I have snatches of events and times but not a whole day. It was important to me, I was going to be a Big Brother and there were a lot of responsibilities that went with that. Mom and Dad prepared me for this a I have to say for his first three years I was a dutiful Big Brother I looked over him when he was an infant, watched him crawl and always keep my Matchbox cars and Tonka trucks away from where he might get hurt on them. When he was a toddler I would walk along side to keep him from falling...or at least run to tell Mom that he fell...again.
When Joe was three years old though my nine year old creativity and imagination got the best of me, well of Joe really. I started to make up stories for Joe about our older brother, Jack. How he was big, strong and could wrestle bears (just like the Legendary Paul "Bear" Bryant). Joe would listen, and smile and play along to the stories I told of Jack flying planes, climbing mountains and jumping out of airplanes just like Dad used to. Joe loved these stories, and I strung them on for probably more than a year until one day Joe's mind started to working and as any normal three or four year old's would.
"Bubba, why don't Jack ever send us birthday cards, or come home for Christmas presents?"
Unflappable and quick thinking even at nine I had an answer.
"Joey, I am not supposed to tell you, but Jack got ate by a bear while wrestling it in the circus in France."
Of course his sweet little face crinkled up and flushed immediately and as his first sobs turned to moans then plaintive wails of grief, I knew my proverbial goose was cooked ( if I'd known what proverbial meant) .
As Momma came into the room to see what was wrong, Joe ran to her and was near inconsolable.
"What's wrong my baby?" Momma asked the crying toddler.
"Bubba said Jack got ate by a bear Momma" my Baby Brother wailed.
"Well, that's not something Jeffy should tell you, come on its nap time now."
I listened as Mom took Joe to his room and sweet talked him till he fell asleep, had I knew what it meant I would have been waiting for the other shoe to drop as Momma came out of the room and pulled the door to behind her. I was in for it now, and she was gonna tell Dad about this too when he got home, things looked bleak.
"Jeffy, you really need to be more careful about the kinds of things you tell Joey. Remember you are his Big Brother. You shouldn't hurt his feelings like that."
That was it? Of course, I took Momma's words to heart and I guess more out of gratitude of not getting punished or have Dad sit me down for one of his talks, I never brought Jack up again. In fact Jack only made two more appearances in my Families Life after that.
The next time was when Joe was in Kindergarten and was asked to name all the members of his Family. Momma was volunteering in his class as a teacher's helper and had to correct him when after naming Dad, Mom, Bubba(me), Mawmaw and Pawpaw and Pepper(our dog at the time) he named his Biggest Brother Jack...
I am not sure how it happened but somehow poor Joe had gone all this time and not realized that our Brother Jack was just my imagination and stories. Better yet, willingly or not my Mother had become my accomplice in what is still my best hoax ever! I guess Joe thought after I had "let slip" the tale of poor Jack's demise that Jack had become something we just didn't talk about anymore, it was too hard and sad for the Family.
Incidentally, from that day forward Joe has never fallen for any of my crap, and to this day I still see that look of disbelief in his eyes when I tell him anything that might sound just a bit too much like a tall tale.
The next time Jack surfaced was about 9 or 10 years ago, somehow in retelling the tale of Jack to some friends I thought it would be fun to see if I was a good enough story teller to sell a grown up on the story of my brother who was eaten by a bear...in France.
(Jacki, I love you and I am almost sorry for putting this story out there...almost)
I had a darling new friend named Jacki, who is honestly the sweetest and most loving person I know who isn't my Mother. Early in our friendship I learned that Jacki trusted me enough that if I told her something was the way it was she believed me or would at least play along to help me get a few jokes in and then I'd let her off the hook and we'd all have a great laugh.
Well, after sitting around and having just finished telling my other friends about Jack, Jacki came in and inquired what we were talking about. I started telling her about my older brother and how I had admired him so as a child and how it crushed out family when he had been killed by a bear while performing with the circus...in France. I mentioned how hard a memory it was for everyone in my family and that all the men had an unwritten rule to NEVER mention Jack around Momma.
During the whole time I looked around at everyone who knew the truth about Jack, and saw them hiding smiles as they could all see that Jacki was wrapped in attention and falling for this story. Sometime after I finished the story but before I let Jacki off the hook, she had to leave. we all had a good laugh and argued about whether she had really fallen for my outlandish tale or not.
Then I didn't think about it again, until about two months later when Jacki came over to my parent's house with me to meet my Mom and Dad for the first time. Add to that fact that my Families Best Friends, my second Parents and Brother from another Mother, The Duffy's were in town to visit and this was a huge thing. I had warned Jacki about the root of my humor and how my Dad and Uncle Bill were absolutely incorrigible and almost merciless at the ribbing they would give someone. I warned her to be careful with everything she said to them because even the most innocent sounding question would lead her down a slippery slope.
Jacki was a champ that night too, she walked right into the living room was introduced to everyone and sat right down next to Mom and joined right into all the talk just like one of the family(which she is, by the by). She avoided all the verbal traps Dad and Uncle Bill put out for her, and even caught Uncle Bill at his own game when he asked her if she had ever seen a beaver.
"I know better than to even respond to that" she said
We all fell out as Uncle Bill insisted that he didn't know what she meant, that it was an honest question.
"I think this young Lady is too smart for you William Duffy" my Aunt Peg said and we all had a laugh.
That lead to Jacki getting to hear "The Dam Story"(which I will have to post up one day soon) and then as the conversation fell back into reminisces of our Families growing up, someone brought up the story of Jack. We talked about all the things Jack had done and Joe being so upset to learn that Jack had been eaten by a circus bear...in France.
With the most soft and sweet voice ever and kindness in her eyes Jacki looked over at my Mother and said
"I hope this isn't upsetting you, them talking about your loss so."
Silence...and then slowly all eyes in the room turn to me.
I squirmed under the stares of Momma and Aunt Peg, but reveled in the approving nods and winks of Dad and Uncle Bill and the raucous laughter already pouring from Sean.
"Young man, you didn't." Aunt Peg said
"OH YES HE DID!!!" My Uncle Bill's loud Brooklyn accent boomed through the room.
I sat there in disbelief, I had completely forgotten that I had tried to sell Jacki on the story of Jack and that I had never told her the truth of that story. But now it seems that I pulled off my greatest hoax a second time.
We all laughed and enjoyed the night as I laid out the truth of the story to her and how Jacki had now become an inseparable part of it.
Its still one of the best stories ever, but as Jacki and I have become better Friends and I have really learned just how intelligent and strong a Lady she is, I wonder how much of that night was just Jacki showing that she belonged in the room full of Works and Duffy and how much was her playing the part of the sweet young Lady that believed the things her Friend told her.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Heroes
I have many little sayings, catchphrases and verbal idiocentricity, I guess we all do really. Among one of my most common is to call someone "My Hero". For example, "You got all those plants racks onto the tables and watered? You're my hero." or "You saved some cheese dip for me? You're my hero." I guess what that should translate to from its Jeffenese form is actually " Thank you, I am grateful you did that."
Now, if I have ever called you my hero in that fashion, I hope you know that I am thankful for whatever you did, but you aren't really my hero. Seriously, I hope I didn't just break your heart.
A Hero in truth is something much more dear and special. Its not the characters in the comic books I still love reading from time to time, not the actors or the characters they play on TV and in the movies. A Hero sure as fuck isn't a God forsaken TV show that had an awesome first season and then turned into a flaming pile of dogshit thereafter...but I digress.
A Hero shows through their actions, and character what a person should strive to be. A Hero sets an example without trying, and raises the bar so high through their everyday Life that the rest of us must struggle to keep it in view. And a Hero does it all without knowing that they are Heroic.
A Hero is something I personally am blessed to have two of in my life. Mom and Pop Works, my Parents.
Pops is easy to break down on the subject of his Heroism for me. He was a highly scouted baseball talent who at the age of 17 with the Vietnam war still going on, convinced my Grandmother to sign the waiver that would allow him to go ahead and join the Army. He went through basic training then jump school to become a paratrooper and graduated top of his group and was sent to Ranger training. Again the top of his class Dad was put through MAC V recon school, where he graduated second in his class behind a Navy Seal. Once Dad went to Vietnam he led a four man patrol of what are know as a LRRPs(pronounced Lurps). For those of you not aware of what a Lurp is, here is a quick excerpt from Wikipedia...
"the U.S. Army Special Forces trained volunteer LRRP's for the purpose of locating enemy units in guerrilla warfare, as well as in artillery spotting, intelligence gathering, forward air control, and bomb damage assessment. Early in the war long range reconnaissance patrols were performed by a limited number of infantry battalion Recon Platoons. Later LRRP units were provisional platoon-sized units. By 1967, formal LRRP companies were organized, some having two platoons, each with eight six-man patrols. Training was notoriously rigorous. Similar missions, although more likely to be clandestine, deeper penetrating, and more like Special reconnaissance, were run in Vietnam by the Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV) Studies and Observation Group (SOG)....Beginning in February 1969, all LRRPs were folded into the newly-formed 75th Rangers, bringing back operational Ranger units. The Army had disbanded Ranger units after Korea, but kept Ranger school, on the theory that spreading Ranger School graduates throughout the Army would improve overall performance."
Basically Pops and three other Soldiers went out into the jungle on their own for sometimes three to four weeks at a time and scouted the enemy, fought the enemy and supplied valuable information back to the main units of the US military. It was dangerous and not what one did if their interest was doing their time and going home safe.
I am not going to go into any crazy war stories about my Father here but Dad did three tours in Vietnam was shot in all three and is highly decorated for his actions during those tours.
That's Hero worthy enough I know, but I'll go up on a mini soapbox here and say that any man or woman that volunteers to serve in our military and defend our freedoms is Hero worthy, wartime or peace.
Thank you all for you Service.
No, what makes Dad My Hero is the Life he has lead and provided to his Family. After Pops left the Army he traveled us around and made a living doing a lot of different things, he had jobs that pulled down insane money but would keep him gone away from his Wife and Kids so he always looked for something better that would keep him closer to us. We had some fat times and some lean times, but as children my Brother and I always can say no matter what our Parents were always a part of our everyday lives.
Let me pause now in talking about Dad to start telling you about Mom, as the two are perfectly linked and the only stainless argument out there against my dislike of Marriage.
My Mom was a sweet intelligent little girl who says she knew from the moment she saw my Father that she was in Love and that was the man she was going to marry. She even started telling people that she and Dad were engaged while he was still in Vietnam. The only problem, of course, being that she and Dad hadn't even been on a date yet...oh and Dad was engaged to some other hussy. No worries there though, all things in time.
Mom wrote letters of support and encouragement to Dad during his time in Vietnam and once between tours he came back and took Mom out on a date to thank her for her kindness.
Three dates later, there was only one girl for my Father and he asked her to marry him...
She said "no"
"What? Why not?" was all Dad asked her.
"Because I have to finish school first." Mom replied
"Well damn Diane, I didn't mean right now." He said
"Oh, well ok then" Mom answered. I think she still ended up dropping out of school so they could be wed before Dad headed back for his last tour, but she ended up going back and finishing school anyway, all things in time, like I said.
Mom was the perfect Mother and my very first best friend. She loves to tell the story about how Dad came home confused one day because a neighbor in the apartments we lived in had commented to him how much fun it sounded like his children had playing and running around together all day long. The source of the confusion being that at the time Dad only had one child, me, and no one was home all day except Momma and me...Like I said she was my first best Friend and the best Mother I could have ever asked for. I am sure my Brother Joe would agree ( and yes Jack too. Love you Jacki.)
Mom stayed home and took care of us until sometime after Joe started school, then she went to work to help make the family more money and support us kids. By this time Dad had started work as a Civil Servant on Fort McClellan in Alabama, a job that bought us our first home and really took a lot of financial pressure off the Family. Not that us kids ever really knew about that kinda stuff, Mom and Dad gave us Love and attention and I doubt we would have been spoiled rotten little hellions had money been any different. My Parents are people of value and they worked hard to teach us to be good people ourselves, I hope and try my best every day not to fail them.
When the Post started to lose jobs and get ready to close down Dad moved us to Warner Robins Georgia, where he had transferred into another civil servant job at the Air Force base there. It was also just after that that Mom began to have some health issues and found out that she had Multiple Sclerosis (MS). Here is some more Wiki on MS...
"Multiple sclerosis (abbreviated MS, also known as disseminated sclerosis or encephalomyelitis disseminata) is an idiopathic disease of suspected autoimmune cause, in which the body's immune response attacks a person's central nervous system (brain and spinal cord), leading to demyelination...MS affects the ability of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord to communicate with each other. Nerve cells communicate by sending electrical signals called action potentials down long fibers called axons, which are wrapped in an insulating substance called myelin. In MS, the body's own immune system attacks and damages the myelin. When myelin is lost, the axons can no longer effectively conduct signals.[1] The name multiple sclerosis refers to scars (scleroses—better known as plaques or lesions) in the white matter of the brain and spinal cord, which is mainly composed of myelin....Almost any neurological symptom can appear with the disease, and often progresses to physical and cognitive disability[1] and neuropsychiatric disorder.[6] MS takes several forms, with new symptoms occurring either in discrete attacks (relapsing forms) or slowly accumulating over time (progressive forms).[7] Between attacks, symptoms may go away completely, but permanent neurological problems often occur, especially as the disease advances."
Wow, That would terrify anyone in to the fetal position and hiding under the covers, huh?
Not my Mother, instead she decided to see if the MS would qualify her to apply as a Handicapped person for a a civil service job on Base. It did, and she was hired into the Records office in the hospital on the Base. Mom worked there and was truly the sweetheart of the hospital and a second Mom to many of the young airmen that worked there with her, During her career she won many awards for her hard work even as the MS ravaged her body. One year she was named The Air Force's Handicapped Civilian Employee of the year and was even featured on local news and papers. Mom worked happily at the hospital until her disease had finally taken such a physical toll on her that she couldn't.
Good Hero worthy stuff, huh?
I am not done yet.
My parents went on to start keeping foster kids in their home, hard luck kids that no one ever gave a chance or worse had been beaten, abused and hurt their whole lives. My Mother and Father took I don't know how many kids in and weren't just a "three hots and a cot" to them. They made them our Family, no matter how long a kid stayed with Mom and Dad, they were given love and shown attention, made sure they had clothes, did their schoolwork and knew that they were safe under our roof. There are young people out there I run into all the time that still call my Parents "Mom and Dad"
Dad retired and he and Mom went traveling for a few years later. They went all over the place, even up to Alaska in their motor home. Dad wanted to get out and see things with Momma while she could still enjoy it, and enjoy it she did. She can sit for hours and talk your ears off about the places they went, people they met and things they did.
Eventually, Dad got an offer to come to work out on base for a contractor doing the same thing he had retired from and for a considerable amount of money. Seeing as it was starting to get harder on Mom to stay out on the road all the time, They came home and Dad went to work and they traveled on the weekends.
As the MS starting taking a hard physical toll on Mom, we worried how she would do with it. She had been so strong with it for so many years but now it was starting to really show up and aggressively fight her.
No need to worry, this Lady is a Champ.
When the MS started affecting her eyesight, Mom got a magnifying glass to read with. When MS took the functional use of her right hand, Mom taught herself to write left handed. When MS started to affect her ability to walk (and after many falls out of stubbornness, I might add), Momma got a cane, then walker, then a scooter and now her wheelchair. No matter what this disease takes from her, Momma just keeps fighting and refuses to be beat.
For his part Dad is right beside her EVERYDAY, he takes care of her, helps her eat, clean up and lifts her in and out of bed, into the bath...whatever she needs. He got rid of his wicked awesome truck to get a van with a ramp system that allows Mom to roll right into the van and lock her wheelchair into place on the passenger's side next to him. He started his own business as a recruiter, right out of their home so he could stay busy doing something he enjoys and still be right there if and when Mom needs him for anything.
And he does it all without complaint or expectation of praise. That is his wife and the woman he loves. This is what is done and to him there is no other way it could be, its the way all great men live.
I hope when tested I have half the resolve and strength that my parents have shown in their lives, I know I will make it through just fine if I do.
This wasn't meant to be a detailed life story of my parents just an example of why they are my Heroes. I could type for days the stories that they have shared with me and memories that I have of them. I just felt I need to ramble out a little homage to them and show I am grateful for who I came from.
I Love you Mom and Pops.
Now, if I have ever called you my hero in that fashion, I hope you know that I am thankful for whatever you did, but you aren't really my hero. Seriously, I hope I didn't just break your heart.
A Hero in truth is something much more dear and special. Its not the characters in the comic books I still love reading from time to time, not the actors or the characters they play on TV and in the movies. A Hero sure as fuck isn't a God forsaken TV show that had an awesome first season and then turned into a flaming pile of dogshit thereafter...but I digress.
A Hero shows through their actions, and character what a person should strive to be. A Hero sets an example without trying, and raises the bar so high through their everyday Life that the rest of us must struggle to keep it in view. And a Hero does it all without knowing that they are Heroic.
A Hero is something I personally am blessed to have two of in my life. Mom and Pop Works, my Parents.
Pops is easy to break down on the subject of his Heroism for me. He was a highly scouted baseball talent who at the age of 17 with the Vietnam war still going on, convinced my Grandmother to sign the waiver that would allow him to go ahead and join the Army. He went through basic training then jump school to become a paratrooper and graduated top of his group and was sent to Ranger training. Again the top of his class Dad was put through MAC V recon school, where he graduated second in his class behind a Navy Seal. Once Dad went to Vietnam he led a four man patrol of what are know as a LRRPs(pronounced Lurps). For those of you not aware of what a Lurp is, here is a quick excerpt from Wikipedia...
"the U.S. Army Special Forces trained volunteer LRRP's for the purpose of locating enemy units in guerrilla warfare, as well as in artillery spotting, intelligence gathering, forward air control, and bomb damage assessment. Early in the war long range reconnaissance patrols were performed by a limited number of infantry battalion Recon Platoons. Later LRRP units were provisional platoon-sized units. By 1967, formal LRRP companies were organized, some having two platoons, each with eight six-man patrols. Training was notoriously rigorous. Similar missions, although more likely to be clandestine, deeper penetrating, and more like Special reconnaissance, were run in Vietnam by the Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV) Studies and Observation Group (SOG)....Beginning in February 1969, all LRRPs were folded into the newly-formed 75th Rangers, bringing back operational Ranger units. The Army had disbanded Ranger units after Korea, but kept Ranger school, on the theory that spreading Ranger School graduates throughout the Army would improve overall performance."
Basically Pops and three other Soldiers went out into the jungle on their own for sometimes three to four weeks at a time and scouted the enemy, fought the enemy and supplied valuable information back to the main units of the US military. It was dangerous and not what one did if their interest was doing their time and going home safe.
I am not going to go into any crazy war stories about my Father here but Dad did three tours in Vietnam was shot in all three and is highly decorated for his actions during those tours.
That's Hero worthy enough I know, but I'll go up on a mini soapbox here and say that any man or woman that volunteers to serve in our military and defend our freedoms is Hero worthy, wartime or peace.
Thank you all for you Service.
No, what makes Dad My Hero is the Life he has lead and provided to his Family. After Pops left the Army he traveled us around and made a living doing a lot of different things, he had jobs that pulled down insane money but would keep him gone away from his Wife and Kids so he always looked for something better that would keep him closer to us. We had some fat times and some lean times, but as children my Brother and I always can say no matter what our Parents were always a part of our everyday lives.
Let me pause now in talking about Dad to start telling you about Mom, as the two are perfectly linked and the only stainless argument out there against my dislike of Marriage.
My Mom was a sweet intelligent little girl who says she knew from the moment she saw my Father that she was in Love and that was the man she was going to marry. She even started telling people that she and Dad were engaged while he was still in Vietnam. The only problem, of course, being that she and Dad hadn't even been on a date yet...oh and Dad was engaged to some other hussy. No worries there though, all things in time.
Mom wrote letters of support and encouragement to Dad during his time in Vietnam and once between tours he came back and took Mom out on a date to thank her for her kindness.
Three dates later, there was only one girl for my Father and he asked her to marry him...
She said "no"
"What? Why not?" was all Dad asked her.
"Because I have to finish school first." Mom replied
"Well damn Diane, I didn't mean right now." He said
"Oh, well ok then" Mom answered. I think she still ended up dropping out of school so they could be wed before Dad headed back for his last tour, but she ended up going back and finishing school anyway, all things in time, like I said.
Mom was the perfect Mother and my very first best friend. She loves to tell the story about how Dad came home confused one day because a neighbor in the apartments we lived in had commented to him how much fun it sounded like his children had playing and running around together all day long. The source of the confusion being that at the time Dad only had one child, me, and no one was home all day except Momma and me...Like I said she was my first best Friend and the best Mother I could have ever asked for. I am sure my Brother Joe would agree ( and yes Jack too. Love you Jacki.)
Mom stayed home and took care of us until sometime after Joe started school, then she went to work to help make the family more money and support us kids. By this time Dad had started work as a Civil Servant on Fort McClellan in Alabama, a job that bought us our first home and really took a lot of financial pressure off the Family. Not that us kids ever really knew about that kinda stuff, Mom and Dad gave us Love and attention and I doubt we would have been spoiled rotten little hellions had money been any different. My Parents are people of value and they worked hard to teach us to be good people ourselves, I hope and try my best every day not to fail them.
When the Post started to lose jobs and get ready to close down Dad moved us to Warner Robins Georgia, where he had transferred into another civil servant job at the Air Force base there. It was also just after that that Mom began to have some health issues and found out that she had Multiple Sclerosis (MS). Here is some more Wiki on MS...
"Multiple sclerosis (abbreviated MS, also known as disseminated sclerosis or encephalomyelitis disseminata) is an idiopathic disease of suspected autoimmune cause, in which the body's immune response attacks a person's central nervous system (brain and spinal cord), leading to demyelination...MS affects the ability of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord to communicate with each other. Nerve cells communicate by sending electrical signals called action potentials down long fibers called axons, which are wrapped in an insulating substance called myelin. In MS, the body's own immune system attacks and damages the myelin. When myelin is lost, the axons can no longer effectively conduct signals.[1] The name multiple sclerosis refers to scars (scleroses—better known as plaques or lesions) in the white matter of the brain and spinal cord, which is mainly composed of myelin....Almost any neurological symptom can appear with the disease, and often progresses to physical and cognitive disability[1] and neuropsychiatric disorder.[6] MS takes several forms, with new symptoms occurring either in discrete attacks (relapsing forms) or slowly accumulating over time (progressive forms).[7] Between attacks, symptoms may go away completely, but permanent neurological problems often occur, especially as the disease advances."
Wow, That would terrify anyone in to the fetal position and hiding under the covers, huh?
Not my Mother, instead she decided to see if the MS would qualify her to apply as a Handicapped person for a a civil service job on Base. It did, and she was hired into the Records office in the hospital on the Base. Mom worked there and was truly the sweetheart of the hospital and a second Mom to many of the young airmen that worked there with her, During her career she won many awards for her hard work even as the MS ravaged her body. One year she was named The Air Force's Handicapped Civilian Employee of the year and was even featured on local news and papers. Mom worked happily at the hospital until her disease had finally taken such a physical toll on her that she couldn't.
Good Hero worthy stuff, huh?
I am not done yet.
My parents went on to start keeping foster kids in their home, hard luck kids that no one ever gave a chance or worse had been beaten, abused and hurt their whole lives. My Mother and Father took I don't know how many kids in and weren't just a "three hots and a cot" to them. They made them our Family, no matter how long a kid stayed with Mom and Dad, they were given love and shown attention, made sure they had clothes, did their schoolwork and knew that they were safe under our roof. There are young people out there I run into all the time that still call my Parents "Mom and Dad"
Dad retired and he and Mom went traveling for a few years later. They went all over the place, even up to Alaska in their motor home. Dad wanted to get out and see things with Momma while she could still enjoy it, and enjoy it she did. She can sit for hours and talk your ears off about the places they went, people they met and things they did.
Eventually, Dad got an offer to come to work out on base for a contractor doing the same thing he had retired from and for a considerable amount of money. Seeing as it was starting to get harder on Mom to stay out on the road all the time, They came home and Dad went to work and they traveled on the weekends.
As the MS starting taking a hard physical toll on Mom, we worried how she would do with it. She had been so strong with it for so many years but now it was starting to really show up and aggressively fight her.
No need to worry, this Lady is a Champ.
When the MS started affecting her eyesight, Mom got a magnifying glass to read with. When MS took the functional use of her right hand, Mom taught herself to write left handed. When MS started to affect her ability to walk (and after many falls out of stubbornness, I might add), Momma got a cane, then walker, then a scooter and now her wheelchair. No matter what this disease takes from her, Momma just keeps fighting and refuses to be beat.
For his part Dad is right beside her EVERYDAY, he takes care of her, helps her eat, clean up and lifts her in and out of bed, into the bath...whatever she needs. He got rid of his wicked awesome truck to get a van with a ramp system that allows Mom to roll right into the van and lock her wheelchair into place on the passenger's side next to him. He started his own business as a recruiter, right out of their home so he could stay busy doing something he enjoys and still be right there if and when Mom needs him for anything.
And he does it all without complaint or expectation of praise. That is his wife and the woman he loves. This is what is done and to him there is no other way it could be, its the way all great men live.
I hope when tested I have half the resolve and strength that my parents have shown in their lives, I know I will make it through just fine if I do.
This wasn't meant to be a detailed life story of my parents just an example of why they are my Heroes. I could type for days the stories that they have shared with me and memories that I have of them. I just felt I need to ramble out a little homage to them and show I am grateful for who I came from.
I Love you Mom and Pops.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Work
Being the lazy ass that I am its 9:45am and I have just rolled out of bed. I don't have to be at work until 12:30pm today so I can lounge around and kind of relax, take the rest of the morning slow. I though I would take a few minutes to say somethings about my Job, work and Life as I see them.
First off, I have never in my life been one who wants to be defined by my work. I kind of get the heebees when I hear people ask one another "what are you?" or "what do you do?" and the reply is always their job title or function. I do not want to be what I do for a living, I want to be Jeffrey and I want to be defined by what I do and who I am in Life, not the 40 to 50 hours a week I spend making money to support my Life.
Even if I had some wicked awesome job like Soldier, Fireman, Actor, Writer, Teacher or Chef, I would prefer to be know as Jeffrey, if I must have a title call me Son, Brother, Friend, that funny guy that will say whats on his mind and apologize later that it hurt your feelings...you know titles or monikers that reference my Life and who I am and what I do with said Life.
That being said I work as a manager for a major retail home improvement store. I have worked for this company for 5 years now and besides the past 10 months where I made a painfully stupid choice to move away from everyone to try to "improve" my career, I have been very Happy with my Job. It is a very easy job, you show up for work, you help customers, you stock shelves, help more customers, you clean up messes, more customers, push some reports and paperwork and generally help customers. At every level of employment with my Company that what it is really about. It is not mentally straining, sometimes it is physically taxing but not really ever so bad I come home sore and the schedule is not set Monday-Friday 9 to 5. But there are advantages to the schedule thing too. If I open I am off work by 4 or 5pm and have plenty of time to do things in the afternoon, if I close I have all morning to lay around and goof off a bit. Mids just suck and screw up your whole day, but its part of the Job so I deal with it, they are rare anyway.
My Job is not rocket science, you don't need a degree or any real education past basic reading, writing and math skills. I have had people tell me I am "too intelligent" for my job, or that I could "do so much better". People think because I wear a little red vest with a name tag on it that I am functioning at a lower level of existence than they are. I love to be out at a restaurant meeting the friends of friends that brag about their degrees and their button down oxford shirt and dress slacks job that is paying them $60 to $80K a year. They brag about their shiny new sports car, the expensive big house they just bought and blah blah blah. Then in the next breath they talk about there crushing taxes, sky-high interest rates on their student loans and credit cards, their mortgages and best of all the ulcers and headaches cause by the stress of their labors.
I get to tell them that I have a car payment, rent and no credit cards. Basic bills and that's about it. I wouldn't know an ulcer if it bubbled up on my ass and called me Billy. Sure I have some pretty annoying people to help and I do have to be nice to them because they are the customer, but once that's all said and done even the shitty people make great and funny stories to share.
Oh and the pay?
Well its not $60-$80k a year but my last stub had me at $41k ytd with two and a half months left to go in the year...I guess I make up the difference in having a true Life separate from "what I do" and its worth every penny not to be defined by my employment and more so by who I am.
First off, I have never in my life been one who wants to be defined by my work. I kind of get the heebees when I hear people ask one another "what are you?" or "what do you do?" and the reply is always their job title or function. I do not want to be what I do for a living, I want to be Jeffrey and I want to be defined by what I do and who I am in Life, not the 40 to 50 hours a week I spend making money to support my Life.
Even if I had some wicked awesome job like Soldier, Fireman, Actor, Writer, Teacher or Chef, I would prefer to be know as Jeffrey, if I must have a title call me Son, Brother, Friend, that funny guy that will say whats on his mind and apologize later that it hurt your feelings...you know titles or monikers that reference my Life and who I am and what I do with said Life.
That being said I work as a manager for a major retail home improvement store. I have worked for this company for 5 years now and besides the past 10 months where I made a painfully stupid choice to move away from everyone to try to "improve" my career, I have been very Happy with my Job. It is a very easy job, you show up for work, you help customers, you stock shelves, help more customers, you clean up messes, more customers, push some reports and paperwork and generally help customers. At every level of employment with my Company that what it is really about. It is not mentally straining, sometimes it is physically taxing but not really ever so bad I come home sore and the schedule is not set Monday-Friday 9 to 5. But there are advantages to the schedule thing too. If I open I am off work by 4 or 5pm and have plenty of time to do things in the afternoon, if I close I have all morning to lay around and goof off a bit. Mids just suck and screw up your whole day, but its part of the Job so I deal with it, they are rare anyway.
My Job is not rocket science, you don't need a degree or any real education past basic reading, writing and math skills. I have had people tell me I am "too intelligent" for my job, or that I could "do so much better". People think because I wear a little red vest with a name tag on it that I am functioning at a lower level of existence than they are. I love to be out at a restaurant meeting the friends of friends that brag about their degrees and their button down oxford shirt and dress slacks job that is paying them $60 to $80K a year. They brag about their shiny new sports car, the expensive big house they just bought and blah blah blah. Then in the next breath they talk about there crushing taxes, sky-high interest rates on their student loans and credit cards, their mortgages and best of all the ulcers and headaches cause by the stress of their labors.
I get to tell them that I have a car payment, rent and no credit cards. Basic bills and that's about it. I wouldn't know an ulcer if it bubbled up on my ass and called me Billy. Sure I have some pretty annoying people to help and I do have to be nice to them because they are the customer, but once that's all said and done even the shitty people make great and funny stories to share.
Oh and the pay?
Well its not $60-$80k a year but my last stub had me at $41k ytd with two and a half months left to go in the year...I guess I make up the difference in having a true Life separate from "what I do" and its worth every penny not to be defined by my employment and more so by who I am.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
My first real post
I hope this will be my first legitimate post on this blog, the first couple were kind of random musings and rambling non-sense.
I would like to speak on an upcoming event that has me really excited. For those of you who read this and know me you may be surprised.
I am extremely excited about the upcoming wedding of my two Friends Brad and Jordan.
Yes, a wedding has me excited. Me, the hater of all things marriage related, who extols a great length the antiquity and farce that out-dated practice has become. I am excited and unapologetic for myself over it.
I shouldn't be anti-marriage, other than my own failed marriage I have been first hand witness to marriages working out to almost unheard of percentages. I have Parents who are still married, Family and Friends who have stayed together and honestly in all I would hazard to guess that at least 85% of other people's marriages that actually touch my life are still going strong.
Maybe I'll rail at Marriage later, its not the point here...
The point is that I am excited, and when I get excited that means something serious is going down. The warm center of the universe just got warmer people, pay attention.
This excitement comes from so many levels. The first should be that this is going to be an absolutely fabulous day for Jordan and Brad, as it should be for them and their families. I say should be because, well, this is my blog and this shit is about me.
Yes, I am most happy to see two of my good Friends have such a wonderful day and I am the weepy little bitch type who will let a tear slip at the joy of it all, I can not wait to be witness to the shared moment of two people who mean a whole lot to me.
I am also honored, excited and overjoyed that Brad thought enough of me and our Friendship to ask me to be an usher at his Wedding. I don't know what an usher does, but I know I wear a tux and this is a huge fucking day for two great people and they asked me to be a part of it, there is no way on God's green earth I'll fuck it up.
Next I have missed everyone's weddings and now I will finally get to go and be a part of it. For one reason or another I missed all my friend's getting hitched. Either I was an ass and pissed them off and didn't get an invite, I was considered to big a risk to show out and do something stupid and didn't get an invite or some other crazy crap. The worst was being so broke and pathetic that I missed my Brother and Sister-in-Law's wedding because I was to proud to ask my Dad to loan me the money to travel to it and in a craptastic job that wouldn't have given me the time off if I had. Honestly, I have very, very few regrets in my life and missing Joe and Sarah's wedding tops the damn list.
Third reason for excitement, I can afford to be a good guest/Friend. I am actually making enough money to buy a decent gift AND not have to cut out anything non-essential (like food or gas) out to do it. I just have money in the bank to buy a gift, get a hair cut, new shoes and whatever other things I'll need to be presentable. I am not going to be a scrub slacker...well I am not going to look or act like it anyway. I am a slacker, that's just me, but I won't look it that day.
Finally, I have a freaking date to the wedding!
With a Woman...an attractive one at that too.
Ok, to be fair to this young lady, she and I are friends and I doubt this counts as a "REAL" date. I panicked over going to a wedding and being the old single fat dude there that would have to sit at the kid's table like Ben Stiller in 'The Heartbreak Kid' and asked my friend if she would go with me. She graciously accepted, and has fast become one of my most favorite persons ever. I never even thought that this might be a major inconvenience or how much effort goes into attending this sort of thing, but she didn't even blink or bat an eye, absolutely awesome. I owe her big time.
To recap why I am excited...
I get to see two great Friends share a moment, I get to be a part of it, I won't look like a scrub and I will have an absolutely stunning young lady on my arm. I am going to be the second luckiest guy there that day. If you are going to be there bring a camera, its not often you get to see the warm center of the universe in a tux... or anything dressier than a $10 Target polo for that matter, and I'll want plenty of pics for my Facebook page to brag over.
I would like to speak on an upcoming event that has me really excited. For those of you who read this and know me you may be surprised.
I am extremely excited about the upcoming wedding of my two Friends Brad and Jordan.
Yes, a wedding has me excited. Me, the hater of all things marriage related, who extols a great length the antiquity and farce that out-dated practice has become. I am excited and unapologetic for myself over it.
I shouldn't be anti-marriage, other than my own failed marriage I have been first hand witness to marriages working out to almost unheard of percentages. I have Parents who are still married, Family and Friends who have stayed together and honestly in all I would hazard to guess that at least 85% of other people's marriages that actually touch my life are still going strong.
Maybe I'll rail at Marriage later, its not the point here...
The point is that I am excited, and when I get excited that means something serious is going down. The warm center of the universe just got warmer people, pay attention.
This excitement comes from so many levels. The first should be that this is going to be an absolutely fabulous day for Jordan and Brad, as it should be for them and their families. I say should be because, well, this is my blog and this shit is about me.
Yes, I am most happy to see two of my good Friends have such a wonderful day and I am the weepy little bitch type who will let a tear slip at the joy of it all, I can not wait to be witness to the shared moment of two people who mean a whole lot to me.
I am also honored, excited and overjoyed that Brad thought enough of me and our Friendship to ask me to be an usher at his Wedding. I don't know what an usher does, but I know I wear a tux and this is a huge fucking day for two great people and they asked me to be a part of it, there is no way on God's green earth I'll fuck it up.
Next I have missed everyone's weddings and now I will finally get to go and be a part of it. For one reason or another I missed all my friend's getting hitched. Either I was an ass and pissed them off and didn't get an invite, I was considered to big a risk to show out and do something stupid and didn't get an invite or some other crazy crap. The worst was being so broke and pathetic that I missed my Brother and Sister-in-Law's wedding because I was to proud to ask my Dad to loan me the money to travel to it and in a craptastic job that wouldn't have given me the time off if I had. Honestly, I have very, very few regrets in my life and missing Joe and Sarah's wedding tops the damn list.
Third reason for excitement, I can afford to be a good guest/Friend. I am actually making enough money to buy a decent gift AND not have to cut out anything non-essential (like food or gas) out to do it. I just have money in the bank to buy a gift, get a hair cut, new shoes and whatever other things I'll need to be presentable. I am not going to be a scrub slacker...well I am not going to look or act like it anyway. I am a slacker, that's just me, but I won't look it that day.
Finally, I have a freaking date to the wedding!
With a Woman...an attractive one at that too.
Ok, to be fair to this young lady, she and I are friends and I doubt this counts as a "REAL" date. I panicked over going to a wedding and being the old single fat dude there that would have to sit at the kid's table like Ben Stiller in 'The Heartbreak Kid' and asked my friend if she would go with me. She graciously accepted, and has fast become one of my most favorite persons ever. I never even thought that this might be a major inconvenience or how much effort goes into attending this sort of thing, but she didn't even blink or bat an eye, absolutely awesome. I owe her big time.
To recap why I am excited...
I get to see two great Friends share a moment, I get to be a part of it, I won't look like a scrub and I will have an absolutely stunning young lady on my arm. I am going to be the second luckiest guy there that day. If you are going to be there bring a camera, its not often you get to see the warm center of the universe in a tux... or anything dressier than a $10 Target polo for that matter, and I'll want plenty of pics for my Facebook page to brag over.
Why?
Ok, I guess before I go off on whatever crazy rambling I decide to post up here I should throw a few things out there about myself but first let me answer the big question I know is on your mind.
A Ruben and bag of cheddar Sunchips with a cold bottle of Aquafina.
Well, that's what I'd like to have for lunch tomorrow anyway. Not the question on your mind? My bad, but you'll notice the title of my blog is not "Mindreader answers life's questions", so i hope you were not expecting too much here.
No, the title of my blog is "inflated sense of self", and that comes from me taking an outside looking in view of myself. I am the center of the universe, i am the warm glowing middle of all the is real and anything and everyone just doesn't really exists when not in my presence or on my mind. That's not really true, but it is how I catch myself acting sometimes. The fact the I titled the blog in all lower case letters shows that at least I am intelligent and humorous enough to realize how small I am when I stop being Jeffrey and I stop and look at me and my actions from the outside.
You'll also notice in my writing I have a very selective use of capitalization and proper names. The biggest example will be when I turn all mopey and weepy and reminisce about my failed marriage. I let go of the hurt and anger a long time ago and can break out some really funny (and sometimes vulgar) humor about it, but I still talk about it and its still relevant to me. It was a major part of my life and no amount of time will change it...anyway back to the capitalization issue I have. I will often refer to my Ex-wife as Her and She, I simply do not use Her name. If I ever type the name Stephanie I will not be referring to Her. Likewise if I type "her" or "she" I am not referring to Her. I always believe that capital letters are to show importance and not using Her name but still giving Her a capitalization still shows She was important but still lets me dig at Her, in my mind anyway.
I also will Capitalize people's monikers if they are important to me. For example...Mom, Pops, Grandparents, Brother, Sister and Friends.
Ok now that's out of the way a little about me...
I am Jeffrey, I am 37 and I work in a Job that is awesome because I can do it and do it very well without using up any of my most treasured personal resources.
Time, Patience, Intelligence and Effort.
My Job pays me fairly well, I am not rich but I can pay my bills and have extra to screw around with, and allows me to daydream and generally live inside my head all day long while earning said pay.
I am currently single but I am not opposed to the idea of Someone else being in my Life, I just do not know how to meet Them. I don't like clubs, bars or churches and for some reason most any place you would go to meet people who want to meet people.
I don't have any tattoos or piercings but I love women that do, as long as they are not dumb. Ignorance and Stupidity are my ultimate turn-offs. Not just in women, but in people in general.
Past that if you know me you already knew that and more, if you didn't you'll probably learn more than you'll care to if you keep reading whatever randomness leaks out of my head onto this blog...
A Ruben and bag of cheddar Sunchips with a cold bottle of Aquafina.
Well, that's what I'd like to have for lunch tomorrow anyway. Not the question on your mind? My bad, but you'll notice the title of my blog is not "Mindreader answers life's questions", so i hope you were not expecting too much here.
No, the title of my blog is "inflated sense of self", and that comes from me taking an outside looking in view of myself. I am the center of the universe, i am the warm glowing middle of all the is real and anything and everyone just doesn't really exists when not in my presence or on my mind. That's not really true, but it is how I catch myself acting sometimes. The fact the I titled the blog in all lower case letters shows that at least I am intelligent and humorous enough to realize how small I am when I stop being Jeffrey and I stop and look at me and my actions from the outside.
You'll also notice in my writing I have a very selective use of capitalization and proper names. The biggest example will be when I turn all mopey and weepy and reminisce about my failed marriage. I let go of the hurt and anger a long time ago and can break out some really funny (and sometimes vulgar) humor about it, but I still talk about it and its still relevant to me. It was a major part of my life and no amount of time will change it...anyway back to the capitalization issue I have. I will often refer to my Ex-wife as Her and She, I simply do not use Her name. If I ever type the name Stephanie I will not be referring to Her. Likewise if I type "her" or "she" I am not referring to Her. I always believe that capital letters are to show importance and not using Her name but still giving Her a capitalization still shows She was important but still lets me dig at Her, in my mind anyway.
I also will Capitalize people's monikers if they are important to me. For example...Mom, Pops, Grandparents, Brother, Sister and Friends.
Ok now that's out of the way a little about me...
I am Jeffrey, I am 37 and I work in a Job that is awesome because I can do it and do it very well without using up any of my most treasured personal resources.
Time, Patience, Intelligence and Effort.
My Job pays me fairly well, I am not rich but I can pay my bills and have extra to screw around with, and allows me to daydream and generally live inside my head all day long while earning said pay.
I am currently single but I am not opposed to the idea of Someone else being in my Life, I just do not know how to meet Them. I don't like clubs, bars or churches and for some reason most any place you would go to meet people who want to meet people.
I don't have any tattoos or piercings but I love women that do, as long as they are not dumb. Ignorance and Stupidity are my ultimate turn-offs. Not just in women, but in people in general.
Past that if you know me you already knew that and more, if you didn't you'll probably learn more than you'll care to if you keep reading whatever randomness leaks out of my head onto this blog...
How long will this last
So, my Friend Kendryck started a blog and has been pretty regular in updating it, and entertaining me. I got to thinking about it and I have decided to try this blog stuff out myself.
Now, do I have any goals or direction for this blog?
No.
Will I be updating this blog on a daily basis?
Maybe...I'll try...but in the end probably not.
Any chance I am going to post like mad here and then one day just forget about it?
Yes.
The only unanswered question here is really...
How long will this last?
Now, do I have any goals or direction for this blog?
No.
Will I be updating this blog on a daily basis?
Maybe...I'll try...but in the end probably not.
Any chance I am going to post like mad here and then one day just forget about it?
Yes.
The only unanswered question here is really...
How long will this last?
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