Archive for July, 2009

victim of gender

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on July 20, 2009 by wkct

Two stories where I was the victim because of my gender.

First one: I’m having a smoke out in back of my office when this guy rounds the corner. I’ve seen him before. He’s clearly gay and femmy. I looked up at his face out of reflex when he passed by me. The look he was giving back was amazing.

Imagine that Felix the Cat clock, the one with its eyes turned completely to one side, the the other. That’s what his eyes were doing, and on the rest of his face was a look of please don’t kill me, you’re an ugly troll.

WTF dude? I’m weird? I’m not the guy walking around like there’s a stick up his butt and his wrists are broken while wearing a freakin’ purse!

Second story: I was going over some work stuff in the office of one my my opposite numbers. She’s is a very cute chubby girl of South American decent, young and full of energy, very engaging, and many IQ levels above me.  This makes her very attractive.  Making her exceptionally attractive today was that she was hanging her generous breasts out of a very loose top.

I kept looking at her breasts. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t undo a million years of evolution during our meeting. I was like a cat, ready to pounce on two plump mice. So, I did what any mature man twenty years her senior would do; I shut my eyes.

That’s right, I went over her work problems with her with my eyes screwed shut. I figured that she’d assume I was thinking really hard. Actually, I was trying not to get hard.


my new bff

Posted in drugs, Society with tags on July 20, 2009 by wkct
I found a new miracle, and this is how I found it.
I have a recurring tooth problem that could be easily solved by yanking the cantankerous mother.  I’ve resisted though since I can usually get the infection to go away with a blast of antibiotics.  Once the dentist pulls your tooth, you’re under the gun to replace it or wind up with your teeth spaced like a jack o’ lantern.
Also, I’ve got some weird problem with my right foot.  I’ve injured it bad driving; some kind of repetitive strain injury.  Between the tooth hurting at the top of my body, and my foot hurting at the bottom, I’m literally squeezed by pain.
Until I discovered this new magic bullet; oxycodone.
It takes away the pain and replaces it with happy feelings.
All Friday, Saturday and Sunday I just had a nice happy oxycodone experience. Tooth pain, gone.  Foot pain, a thing of the past.  Coordination and judgment control, out the window.
I’m kind disappointed that this morning I woke up without the pains, and now I don’t have an excuse to take it.
Oxycodone is the opiate in Percocet.  In Percocet, oxycodone is paired with acetaminophen.  There’s the big controversy about taking drugs that are paired with acetaminophen off the market. Abusers and chronic pain sufferers supposedly give themselves liver damage by taking drugs like Percocet with other acetaminophen drugs that one can buy over the counter.
There’s been quite a libertarian-style response about the FDA’s recommendation.  I like the comments over at Nurse K’s site the best.

emasculation by pollution control

Posted in general, Society with tags , , on July 19, 2009 by wkct

I have been emasculated by the Federal Beast. Specifically, I’ve been emasculated by the Federal Beast’s demands for fuel efficiency.

I did a little research last night on my engine and decided I’d have a poke around. Check the oil, look for leaks, look like I know what I’m doing, typical guy stuff. I opened the hood, looked around and decided that I would figure out how to change my spark plugs.

I found the electronic ignition, three sparks at three weird angles and, ugh, well…

I know there are three other sparks facing the firewall, but actually seeing them is beyond the reach of even the most hardy man. They are hidden behind the alternator, the coolant overflow reservoir, and some other bullshit I’ve never seen before.

What the fuck???

I remember, maybe thirty years ago, standing in the engine bay of a 1969 Nova removing a water pump. No face on the engine, no fucking problem. Now, that’s the way cars should be, free of pollution control, computers, and weird ass sensors.

Computers should be nowhere near cars, except when you bully some Beardo the Weirdo by taking his Mac and running it over with a fatty tire.

Remember when you didn’t need a torque wrench, specialty tools, a computer and a high speed internet connection to change a radiator hose? You certainly didn’t need to remove three fourths of the engine to get to fuel filter. You could change out you’re crappy AM radio without frying the electrical system and you could install fog lights (which look cool though they are totally useless) without setting the car on fire and having the engine computer reboot to 1925.

See, you could take care of your own car, you could make many of your own repairs. You were in spiritual touch with the cowboys of long ago, who could comb and shoe their horse, or change their water pumps on the Chisholm trail.

Looking into the Gordian knot of hoses, wires and tubing, I realized that there was nothing I could do except fill the wiper fluid reserve. Later, I found that my penis had fallen off. I found it on the electric fan shroud. Totally emasculated by modern car technology.

full tilt hard on smokin’

Posted in addictions, quitting smoking failure, smoking with tags , , , on July 19, 2009 by wkct
OK, I haven’t blogged (not that anyone has noticed) for quite a while because I had nothing to report but failure.  I failed again.

I was just so tired of being in discomfort, of fighting the urge, of thinking about smoking for maybe a half an hour at a time that I gave in one Sunday so I could finally relax.

Now I have the opposite effect; I’m tight because I haven’t quit, and when I look inside, I find no desire to quit.  I’m even back to waking up and smoking in the middle of the night.

So this is how it happened…

I was filling up on gas at a gas station that has a mart. I was holding the pump while looking at the mart. I knew cigarettes were in the mart, peacefully sleeping until some lucky bastard bought them and brought them home to play.

I couldn’t get the idea of smoking out of my mind. It was like eight tracks of schizo smoke of consciousness. I was thinking, one, just one to get over this hump. Just one more trip to the top and I’ll be all right.

The pump clicked off, the kiosk beeped and whirled at me, I finished paying and then marched right to the mart, overpaid for a pack of stale Kools, and then ran (OK, wheezed) to my car. Coffee was so disappointed. I was so ashamed, but now I didn’t have to think anymore about quitting. For now anyway.