The Price of the Gun Show

The only way I know how to begin this post is with a sigh.

Sigh...

Ladies, do you have any idea of what I go through to polish deez gunz?  Seriously!  Take a look at this:

Now, the other gun.

Oh, my shirt?  I left it over thurrrr...

Gunz is serious business.  And the polishing of said gunz can be a dirty, filthy task that is not for those lacking in testicular fortitude.  

I was in the locker room at the gym yesterday.  I was hunched over my gym bag putting my stuff away.  There I was, minding my own business, packing up my shit and getting ready to leave.  Then a man came out of the shower.

A older man.

An older, naked man.

Guess where his locker was?

He strolled across the locker room bare-ass naked and air drying his junk.  He walked towards me, took one step past, and hung a left.  Towards me.  As he reached for his locker which was one over and one above mine, he nearly put my eye out with his shriveled pecker.  It literally stopped inches away from my face.  WTF, people.

I immediately stood up, retreating my face from his happy place.  He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he parked his bologna pony in the no parking zone that is around me head.  How the fuck does a guy not know where he's sticking that thing?  I've seen some pretty disgusting shit in the men's locker room before but this was one of the worst.  Second worst, to be specific.

It would have been the absolute worst had it not been for my experience tonight.  Once again, it was in the locker room and I had just finished polishing my gunz.  I think it goes without saying that a men's locker room stinks to high heaven.  The stench is usually a combination of mildew, sweat, piss, shit, and designer imposters cologne.  I hope you weren't eating.

I walked in there tonight and I was assaulted with an unholy stank.  It was a funk to end all funk.   It burned my nose and throat to breathe.  It was especially punishing since I had just finished my workout and so my breathing was deep and heavy.  This wasn't the usual aforementioned potpourri.  One particular ingredient overpowered the rest.  There was One stench to rule them all.  It was shit.

Some cretin had taken a shit in the locker room.  No, I don't mean someone popped a squat on the can and pinched a loaf.  I mean someone dropped a deuce on the locker room floor.  

It was absolutely revolting.  There were about four light brown turds near the lockers, about 8 lockers down from mine.  Let's be clear here:  these were not dingleberries.  These were grade A, USDA certified turds.  They were strewn about a small area on the floor, not piled up.  This arrangement made the head count easy in case any of you were thinking I had to get closer to count.  You sick bastards.

The guy that came in several seconds after me was hit with the same stifling death cloud.  He flinched; he physically flinched.  He took a look around, noticed the shit, and jumped back.  What happened next was something I didn't understand.

He was clearly revolted by what he saw but he took a step forward, bent down, and stuck his face closer.  teh fuck, people?!?!  Looks like shit, smells like shit, hmmm...   Must be a cream pie!  I guess he couldn't believe what his senses were telling him.  I didn't need a double take to believe what I was seeing.  However, I did have trouble believing how teh fuck someone can just take a shit on the floor of the men's locker room.  

Despite the misfortune of finding something so vile, there were at least two people worse off then I was.  One was the guy that had to stick his face closer to believe it.  The other was the guy that stepped in it.  There was a partial footprint in one of the logs.  Some hapless soul had wandered in, probably smelled the incredible stench, but didn't think to look down before stepping towards his locker.  And yes, I checked my shoe.  It wasn't me.  

So that's what I go through several times a week to polish deez gunz.  Don't ever take it for granted.  Feel free to scroll up and look at them again.  Feel free to touch yourself, too.

Blue October Concert

While at work today, I went to take a leak sometime around 2:30 in the afternoon. I strolled up to a urinal that was in mid-flush and I immediately realized that the guy who was there before me had asparagus for lunch. Yeah, I know. That's fuckin sick.

I absolutely had to share that with everyone. Not only does it make up for my utterly unimaginative title for this post, but I feel it gives the reader some insight into my mental playground. It's fun sometimes. Other times it smells funny.

Here are some pictures from the Blue October concert my roommate, gf, and I went to recently. It was at the Club Nokia which is in the new LA Live complex that is next to Staples. The venue is very new and by far the purtiest that I have been to. The staff was a bunch of n00bs but that's probably par for a new joint. The drinks were pricey but that's par for a concert in downtown LA.

Here's a pic of the stage before the show got started.


Technically, this was in the middle of the show as it was after the opening band's set. Honestly, I don't consider this particular opening act as part of the show; it'd be an insult to the show. Perhaps, it would qualify as a side show.

It was this lackluster band called "Ours" and I really don't care to link their website. It was by far the most craptacular opening act I had ever seen. I think they should change their name to "Theirs" as I don't want any of it. It's all Thurzzz. Prior to the concert, my homie Brent told me that Ours was "kinda" big however many years ago. And yes, he did the air quotes when he said, "kinda." Now I understand exactly what he was driving at although I think he overstated their prior success.

Here's a pic of Blue October rocking out.


We paid a little extra (~$5) to get into the VIP area which included balcony seats and access to the VIP bar that was pass a security guard, beyond a velvet rope, and up an elevator. You know, kinda like getting into the Bat Cave. On the right of the pic, you can see all the unimportant people standing in their unimportant people area next to other unimportant people. Please, join me in an evil laugh. Muahahahahaha!!!

I'm glad we purchased the balcony seats. Not only because I am a very VIP, but it was also assigned seating so that you could sit down and take a nap during the opening act. The unimportant people area was all general admission. We also lucked out and got seats pretty close to the edge of the balcony as you can tell by the railing in the pic. It woulda been nicer if were closer to the center of the stage but ah well.

Also, you can sorta make out some camera guys at the foot of the stage. They were shooting a video for one of their new songs "Say it". Maybe we'll be in it. I did flash my man boobs after all. They actually played this song twice because they were shooting the video. I guess they needed to be sure that they had enough useable footage. Maybe they wanted more shots of my fabulous teats.

Here's another pic of the band. The lead singer is spittin his lyrics on the masses.

I honestly think he's a very talented lyricist. I'm able to understand what he's trying to say without thinking about it too much. It just kinda clicks most of the time. The analogies that he uses to describe emotions are spot on. I may not feel like he does but I am able to understand what he is feeling.

They did a lot of new material from their album that was released a few days after the concert. It's called "Approaching Normal" for those that are interested. Despite not knowing any of the new songs they performed, I really had a good time and it got me looking forward to the album release. I highly recommend listening through some of the songs on their website.

They also performed a few songs from previous albums which was awesome. Though not enough if you ask me. Sadly, they skipped out on doing an encore. Encore fail, I know. Maybe they thought because they played "Say it" twice that the second time counted as the encore. Whatever. Overall, I thought it was a great concert and well worth being bent over by ticketmaster. DIAF, ticketmaster. May the genitals of every member of your board of directors be covered in infected, oozing pustules.

That sickening slide

Psschoooom!

Psschoooom!

Psschoooom!

Psschoooom!

Psschoooom!

That was just a sample of the 21 gun salute that I was doing at the gym.  It was riveting.  Had this not been a drill, each psschoooom would have had paaaaaaanties dropping.  Unfortunately, I didn't make it all the way through.  One of my gunz, the right battery, erupted in fiery pain somewhere around the 14th psschoooom.

With gunz flexed, I suspended myself 2 ft off the ground with a 30 lb weight between my legs.  While also holding a dumbbell between my feet, I proceeded with my set of tricep dips.  I lowered myself and slowly raised up again.

Psschoooom!

Back down and up again.  

Psschoooom!

Down, and slowly up.

hisssss...KABOOM!  My right man boob explodes in searing pain.  That slow, sickening slide of corded muscle coming undone creates a sharp, stretching sensation just adjacent to my armpit.  I let go of the weight and dropped off the station onto my bum ankle.  (Why do I have a bum ankle?  That's another story.)  I stumbled a bit and grabbed my boob in agony.  That was the end of that.

I had to baby my right gun for the rest of the night.  I managed to finish my workout with some modification to my routine.  Why didn't I stop for the night?  I don't let myself off that easily; I do have two gunz afterall. But it did get me thinking about how much it would suck to lose the use of my right arm.

If I were a smurf, then I would be lefty smurf.  

If I were Rick Allen, the drummer for Def Leppard, then I would not be able to keep a beat.

If I were a pirate, then I would be Captain Hook.  Yar no.

If I were Chris Brown, then I would not be able to lay down my strong pimp hand while steering the car.

If I were Voltron, then I would be missing the red lion and I would not be able to form my blazing sword.

Yeah, it would definitely suck.

Let's have a meeting!

As a worker bee in white collar America, I spend a fair amount of time sorting through some of the most colorful verbal diarrhea that has ever sullied the human senses. It's stench fills my nostrils, burns my eyes, and makes my ears bleed. These buzzwords and catch phrases are managerial tools used to convey a false sense of competence and "corporate cool." They are also a means of sugarcoating whatever unpleasant fact needs to be said; often to the point that the crux of the message is lost.

Here's some the bullshit buzzwords, a cornucopia of corporate ka-ka if you will, for those that have not had the pleasure of wafting this in first hand.

• Tasked - Usage: Who was tasked to scrub the toilet? This means "to delegate to," usually some shit job like scrubbing a toilet. The person doing the tasking usually doesn't want to do it themselves. Hence, they "task" someone else. Why not just say, "Who did we ask to scrub the toilet?" Clearly, because it's not as cool. I'm not as cool I guess.

• Buy-in - Usage: We got buy-in from the customer to scrub the toilet with a toothbrush. This means, "agreement or consent to do something." Often times, peeps don't want to be the one that pulls the trigger on decisions with any significance. So they mitigate any possible blame for failure by getting other people to agree to their half-baked idea like scrubbing a toilet with a toothbrush. Don't confuse this with a what a competent person does when he/she makes sure all interested parties are aware of the risks and rewards of a decision.

• Path forward - Usage: What's the path forward in order to clean the toilet? This means, "what's the plan." Managers will use this term when they have no idea how to proceed but still want to sound cool. I admit that these words have pass my lips before. But I washed my mouth out immediately afterwards.

The next three are currently my favorites. They invoke conflicting emotions in mah belleh. On the one hand, I want to laugh my ass off because they sound so silly. On the other hand, I want to punch a baby out of frustration that my leadership resorts to such trite statements.

• Take this offline - Usage: Let's not talk about urinals in a toilet meeting; we'll take this discussion offline. This means, "outside of the current meeting." As part of corporate America, you have to accept that you are "online" while in a meeting. So to take a topic "offline," you discuss it after the meeting. This one really chaffs my groin because it took a term that has technical connotations and perversed it into this asinine phrase.

• Circle the wagons - Usage: Circle the Wagons! Call Larry, Moe, and Curly and tell them the toilet exploded. This means, "assess the situation and determine a 'path forward'." Managers usually circle the wagons when the shit hits the fan for reasons that are not immediately obvious. So they hurry up and panic. Everyone and their mother is called into a meeting to figure out how to handle shit. Often times, this happens prematurely - before anyone has had time to investigate and gather facts regarding the problem. The most likely result of circling the wagons is realizing the need to investigate instead of turning to expensive knee-jerk reactions like wagon circling.

And my absolute favorite...

• Low hanging fruit - Usage: Let's start off easy by picking the low hanging fruit. This means, " to do all the easy stuff." The analogy is that the easy tasks are like low hanging fruit on a tree that are easy to pick while difficult tasks are high hanging fruit that will require more meetings to determine a path forward. (You see how I've learned to string this shit together? I r teh manager materialz!) Come on! Do I really have to go into why this one is my favorite? Suffice to say that every time I hear this, I feel an urge to slap the speaker's fo'head with my low hanging fruit.
  

More-est fun with Google!

As promised, here is the last installment of my "Fun with Google" series. I know it's been months since my last posting but I don't apologize for it. Free time was a bit scarce earlier in the year and most of it went to new activities that I have been trying to pick up. I didn't forget about this venture though. In fact, my head has been brimming with stuff to write about and I've probably forgotten about a few a long the way. Humanity will be the lesser for it. Oh, well. Fuck it. On with the fun!

For all those that have forgotten, here's how you play: This post contains pictures that are search results from Google! Images. Based on the pictures, you have to guess what I searched for that returned that particular result. The pic wasn't always on the first page of the search results; it could have been as deep as the third page. If you get stuck, then feel free to ask your kids for help. You know me - this is G rated family fun!

Pic 1.


Pic 2.

Pic 3.

Pic 4.

Pic 5.

The last one is kinda hard. Here's a hint: No, it's not "can." But it can be used to describe one.