Substantive Post? How About: "That Guy" Part Four

So I am sitting here trying to come up with a post containing substance, when all I can do is think about how much "That Guy" made me mad today.

If you want to know who "That Guy" is without reading the posts, a simple synopsis is that he's that guy in your life (could be a girl), usually at work but not necessarily, that you're about two seconds from beating the shit out of should he/she somehow finally step over the line... But he stays there, right at the edge of an ass kicking, pushing just enough buttons to keep you furious. He thinks that he's everyone's friend and that everyone finds his bullshit humorous. He's dead wrong...

And "That Guy" also rears his ugly head at other times in life. The guy that jumps the queue when driving. The guy that takes ten minutes when ordering at the drive through when you have six minutes to get lunch. There's dozens of examples in life when you end up saying; "Holy Shit, you're that guy. That guy that I would murder if it wouldn't make Jesus hate me."

Well today "That Guy" was in great form. That guy is doing everything he can to push the rules at work, seeing if he can somehow do whatever the hell he wants and not get fired.

In Late? ---- Fuck yeah, by about an hour, every other day. Not that we're hourly, but still, nice of the fucker to show up when he gets to it...

Not Dressed Professionally? ---- Yep, and that's not the worst part. Quote; "What, I don't have to deal with clients, and my boss is gone, so why not. You're just jealous..." When in fact we can have brand reps in at any time, and I'd like to make sure that they feel that the millions of dollars they spend with us is justified as being spend on the most professional company in the industry. Some jackass in jeans walking around doesn't convey "professional" it conveys "must be the mail boy." I guess I'm old fashioned, or he's a douche. I'm guessing that I might be right.

Long Lunches? ---- Another result of his boss being gone. The fucker disappeared for two hours today, left his phone on his desk, and had info that we somehow needed... Not that I felt that he could ever produce anything that could not better (yeah, I know I'm being a hater, it was a long day), but the one time that a project he was assigned to would have been useful, he's nowhere to be found and incommunicado.

The list goes on and on, but today we managed to get ourselves into a very good yelling match, in which I called him a lazy sack of shit when I had enough of his shit... Apparently "lazy sack of shit" pushes his buttons more than any other statement known to man. He was fucking pissed. I was enjoying every second of it. Of course, when the argument continued, I could not hold back on the reasons that prove his "lazy sack of shitness".

I brought up the fact that I make more than him, even though he went to a ridiculously fancy private school that I will not name, simply for the sake of not associating that institution with that P.O.S. (You've heard of it...)

I brought up the fact that I've been promoted above him twice in the past year.

I brought up the fact that he does less at work, and expects more for it than anyone in the history of his job. Evidenced by his interviewing for a promotion that he got denied on, and being the only guy that didn't get a raise at the end of the last year. (Yeah, I went there)

And then, to drive it home, I just fucking fired one last shot over the bow...


"And then there was the whole; 'fired from the job that you had before here,' and getting your current job just because you knew someone, and not on merit."


I think I might have gone a bit far.


Then I called him a douchebag.

Post 200

Well... 470something if you count the old blog (some of you guys were there for that, right?).

It has been a long ride, and I'm not anywhere near done. Real post tomorrow or perhaps as late as Friday. I've been so damn busy with this whole Superbowl thing...

The beer planning, not watching them. Though in that respect I'm on Superbowl IX and just watched the Steelers hand the Vikings there asses (sorry M.D.M., just recounting history). The Purple People Eaters pretty much looked like a bunch of purple wearing pansies.

Drinking On Fridays

Now that I am up at 8:30AM thanks to the guy who DIDN'T go out with us last night calling me at 8AM to ask how it went. Let me tell you all how my Friday night went...

So there is a great thing in the world of drinking, and that thing happens to be Friday Night.

Friday night is that miracle time when you can get absolutely blasted because you have two full days to recover. The night that partying is easy, because there are a million reasons you want to, thanks to a week of work and just having left it all behind. And of course, the night that you damn well better have a Designated Driver, because the law don't give a damn why you're drinking.


Last night we had some beer people in town, and there is a new girl on my team at work (I say new, I've worked with her for 4 months, but hey, I've been busy), so the whole team decided in an impromptu fashion, to go out and have a blast. Just some of the friends from work getting together to shake their asses and have a fun. Not a work party, which we do, but those are different because there is a level of decorum expected from management and such (thank God we don't have bullshit "fraternization" rules, we're expected to get along with everyone).

So we all meet up at Château Hacker (the endearing term for the monstrosity of a house that Alyssa and her husband live in) to prefunk a bit and gather everyone together before departing to the club. Given my behavior LAST WEEKEND, I volunteered to be one of the the Designated Drivers...

The night was a mix of Coors Light, Blue Moon, Jägermeister, Grey Goose, and Diet Coke. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to guess what I was drinking, but I had a great time. Every one of them is a "funny drunk" and so being the sober guy isn't taxing. We closed the place down, and then on the drive back home, all of the drunks were DEMANDING food. Hello 24 hour drive through.

I have done some very difficult things in my life. Extracting the food order from three drunk friends while at the drive through ranks somewhere near the top of the list. I ordered nothing as I was pretty sure that the food they did get was going to be spit in after the ordeal at the speaker...

Watching three drunks attempt to compile cash to pay for fast food while in the drive through line ranks right at the top of my list of fun things to do. Three people produced $90 (a ten and then four twenties) to buy $24 worth of fast food. Just bills handed out at random. Of course, I hand the lady two twenties (the damn sign on the window says nothing bigger than a $50, who the hell needs to pay for fast food with a hundred dollar bill, if you have $100 on you, you shouldn't be eating fast food) and then sit there waiting trying to think about how I am going to make change for everyone... Apparently that was not an issue. I ask them and get; "I don't care, fill your car with gas, you drove," as a unanimous response after a few seconds of drunk debate. Fine by me.

So we depart from the fast food joint, breaking the rules as we go (RULE 31: No drunks can eat in my car), but it was a fun night and I knew that food would sedate all of them. Though the spontaneous "2 Of Amerikaz Most Wanted" singalong was wickedly entertaining...

And the fact that three drunks knew EVERY WORD of the song perfectly...

I mean, they could have been singing back-up for Pac and Snoop, PERFECT...

I love my job and the people I work with at time...


Anyways, everyone was crashing at the Château Hacker, so there was only one house to get back to. I got them there, got everyone inside, and headed home. I got home just past 3AM...


Now it's going to be a long day of watching TV. It's here.

Patience Are For Doctors

I am not a patient man. When I say I want something, I want it yesterday... I want it the day before yesterday, and an explanation about what the hell took so long.

This is why me and shopping online are a bad combination. Shipping shit takes time, and I don't like time.

God has blessed my with a huge city in which I can find just about everything that I could ever want, and it's all within an hour drive. Even though our sales tax is high enough to fund a small country for decades, I buy a majority of my things locally because I'm not a waiter. I'm a "nower". I even have the Executive Membership to Costco because that means that I get to shop there an hour earlier than everyone else, meaning NO LINES.

And at times, this whole lack of patience is less prominent than one might think. But now is not one of those times.


I found an item that I wanted, and could not find locally. So I had to order it online. It's been shipped from Plano, TX, and it will be here on Friday... But it's MONDAY!!! For God sakes, I could drive to Plano and be back by Friday. What did they send it, Express Tortoise?

And the worst part is that the damn company had no other shipping option. Just, buy this and we send it. See ya when it gets there.

So here I sit, checking the tracking info to see just where the Terrapin bearing my package happens to be...

Did I Drink Last Night?

So I remember every second of the football games last night.

And I remember drinking every second of those games as well.

I was so past trashed, that the term "derailed" comes to mind.

So I took a shower and went to bed. Then I woke up this morning at 2AM, and felt thirsty but like a million bucks. No hangover, just the need for some water and desiring another shower. So I spent the morning reading blogs (38 of them), updating my sidebar (new blog links), listening to my Zune (this thing is PRICELESS), and drinking nine bottles of water. All of which took three hours.

Which means I need to go get in the shower five minutes ago.

Giving Up

And it's just at the point where I feel that I might as well admit that the Patriots are going to end up winning the Superbowl.

They play the Chargers today... Victory is all but written in the history books already.

And then either the Packers (let's face it, probably the Packers) or the Giants. Both of which are teams that I would like to see do well. Brett Favre could win one more before retiring, and Eli Manning could make his brother look like a douche.*

But I can't see either of those teams possessing the talent in every position that it's going to take to beat the Pats.


So in short, kiss my ass Belichick. Quit cutting the sleeves off of your sweater, you look like a hobo got into the stadium and put on a Motorola headset.




*And I love the Colts.

A Good Year

So one of our suppliers decided that I should get a gift to celebrate my hard work in making last year one of their best ever.

And I got a pair of court side Sonics tickets, and THIS:


So amid the myriad of crap on my desk I have really great basketball tickets and a bottle of wine that makes the tickets look boring. The wine is my age, both of us just taking our time getting better since 1983. But just like the wine, the debate is complex. For what reason should I open the 1983 Graham's? Save it for my birthday in July (the QC for me and the wine) seems to be like the reasonable response, but I'm not sure. This could sit in the bottle for another ten+ years and still be amazing or be even better.


And an UPDATE:

Here is the last email from my guy on Vacation about the resolution of "SquirrelGate"

"Well, as per the advice of (I shit you not) "The Critter Catcher" I lit a fire and even kept it going all day. No squirrel has been seen in the fireplace since, so I hope he made it out. Actually, now as my wife and I clean up the black soot rodent prints, a little part of me hopes that he didn't. This has got to be the weirdest vacation ever. I'll see you on Monday."