What’s wrong with free?

So I logged into WordPress today, contemplating writing a post about the books I’ve been reading and how much work is a drag on, well, everything, when I noticed the Freshly Pressed page had some things that caught my eye.  Two I dismissed as just ranting (imagine the gall of a blogger who rants incessantly!) and the other just got under my skin.

This post claims the reason people don’t want to spend money to use, say, Twitter, is because we’ve become accustomed to getting things for free on the internet, despite “shelling out the cash” for music and books in stores.  I disagree.

How long did it take for people to start “shelling out the cash” for things like Cable TV, Satellite, and Internet access?  Isn’t the RIAA still throwing a fit over piracy?  And then there’s the movie pirating which has led to every movie I’ve recently watched, both on DVD and on the big screen, to having a piracy PSA before the previews.  So is it, in fact, an Internet issue, or simply a human issue?

I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think we should have to pay for anything, period.  That’s not to say everything should be completely free, per se, but money is a lost cause.  What’s all that paper based on, anyway?  Many of these big businesses don’t pay for anything, really, as it’s all done on credit.  It’s pretend money.  I worked for a small restaurant two years ago and the guy didn’t pay rent or utilities for the first year.  He didn’t make it that long, so what did he end up doing to cover those expenses he hadn’t yet paid?  I’ve had several jobs where, as a manager, I signed an invoice stating we owed X company Y dollars for Z merchandise, but I never saw anything get paid except for in an Excel SpreadSheet.  When did it get paid, and by whom?

There are tons of people who couldn’t imagine walking into a store/restaurant/bar/cafe, acquiring food/supplies/drinks/etc, and then not paying for said merchandise.  Yet we do it everyday, with every swipe of our credit card.  I’ve had a credit card.  I maxed that little thing out to the tune of $2,000 dollars, which Providian Bank kindly paid, and then never paid it off.***

No one called me to ask where the money was, nor did anyone come and claim my merchandise back.  And it’s not even on my Credit History…anywhere.

The Internet doesn’t have a free problem, people do.

***As a side note, I wasn’t actually allowed to pay that bill.  Back in early 2002 Providian Bank sold $4.2 million in (Visa) accounts to a Pakistan based (MasterCard) company, who then was unreachable and never sent out cards or information.  Providian wouldn’t give me the information to reach them, nor could I pay my bill to them, and the Pakistani company was unable to help me without an account number, which they failed to provide me.  Thus, I got off scot-free, so to speak.  But look how many people have umpteen thousands (or more) in Credit Card debt that they can’t (or won’t) pay?  How many of them, exactly, have been prosecuted and put in prison for theft/larceny/whatever the charge may be?  Or even taken to court and forced to pay restitution?  I’ve heard of people being threatened, but I have yet to hear anything short of a Buelleresque “My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin’s aunt’s neighbor in Nebraska has a dog who gets groomed by a lady who…” about it, nothing concrete.  Ever.  So what’s that say?

And what do YOU wanna be when you grow up?

I want to be a DINOSAUR!  RAWR!*

Actually, I want to major in Physics and Art.  Yeah, I know, what a great way to become independently wealthy.  But at least I won’t have to be a starving artist, like now, working at some dead-end job and spending all my money on art supplies and praying I have enough ramen noodles to last until next payday.*  I can go work for NASA and spend all my money on art supplies and pray I have enough ramen noodles to last until next payday!  How much more exciting would that be, eh?

But actually, those are my two passions, and that’s what I would like to do, go to school for Art and Physics.  I keep trying to misspell “Physics” as “Physicalics”, which, thankfully, isn’t as bad a Freudian slip as, say, “Phallics”.  I think if I were to start typing “Phallic” all over the place I’d just shoot myself because, honestly, if things were that bad, I’m obviously either too psycho to even qualify for a desperate one-night-stand, or too ugly.  But thankfully there is porn and I’m okay with that.  Porn doesn’t tell me to not drink so much, clean up that mess, do the dishes, or scream at me because I didn’t buy the right brand of toilet paper even though I saved $3 fucking dollars by buying the BETTER quality toilet paper and I really don’t give a fuck about “toilet paper” lint being left on my ass because, HELLO, it’s better than having SHIT left on my ass because the MORE EXPENSIVE BRAND you INSIST upon using doesn’t wipe NEARLY as clean as the stuff I grew up with you stupid, ignorant, bitch! Whew, sorry, flashback to a prior relationship.  I should really get some help with this whole PTSD thing from her, but, meh.

And, yes, that actually WAS a real argument I had with someone I date and it actually lasted for a good solid month before I finally explained, “FUCK YOU I HAVE MY OWN FUCKING BATHROOM AND WILL USE THE TOILET PAPER I SO CHOOSE TO WIPE SHIT OFF MY ASS UNLESS YOU WANNA LICK IT OFF OF ME YOU FUCKING WHORE!” and it was settled.  And there might have been about twenty more expletives than that in the actual argument but my memory kind of fails me because I was black-out drunk at the time and that was about the point I came to and then I said something about being hormonal and horny and having low blood sugar and to not cross me anymore when it came to my bunghole because that was my own personal space nobody messed with and the last person who tried wound up in Guatemala and nobody’d heard from him for the past two years.  That’s also kind of a true story.  The Guatemala thing.  The toilet paper thing is TOTALLY a true story.

*RAWR means I love you in Dinosaur.  G-d, don’t you people, like, read and stuff?

I’m not nearly THAT big of an asshole

So I don’t have much time on my hands to get out and meet people, thus my turning to the Internet. I’ve posted before about meeting people online and how well it doesn’t work. Sometimes I meet someone interesting, mostly they’re flakes, but occasionally they turn out to be far above the level I’ve lovingly titled “Douche Yacht”.

Case in point:

I went over to Craigslist (likely my first mistake) to check out things for sale (still in the market for a new fridge/freezer combo) and made my way over to strictly platonic. Usually I don’t like these things and tend to laugh at many of them, but sometimes one will catch my attention and I’ll reply. This chick was just looking for a friend, or so she claimed.***

I emailed her and was like, “Yo, wassup” and thus began what I thought was going to be a strictly platonic instant messaging relationship. As anyone who’s read more than one post on this blog knows, my life has been hectic these past couple months. I’ve been working anywhere from 50 to 60 hours or more a week, have been struggling with insomnia and panick attacks, etc, etc, bitch, moan… You get the idea, I’m sure.

So, I log into Yahoo messenger and was like, “I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with this chick in a while, so I’ll see what’s up”. So I send a message along the lines of “Wow, it’s been a while, how’ve you been?”

Apparently this makes me an asshole that deserves to be told off. Somebody has some inferiority issues they need to work through because, sorry bitch, I have a life, too. Being the mature guy I am I quickly apologized for bothering er and wished her well.***

I can’t, however, keep from being upset because this cunt seems to think she’s just oh so important after we had a total of maybe three conversations before my life turned to shit. So, to all those self-important bitches out there, just get over yourselves already.

***Oh, how I wish this story could have ended with the makings of a great story for a new porn, but, alas, thus is not my life.

***And if you believe that, I’ve got a great condo right off the Arizona bay you’ve just gotta see to believe.

Rant, Rave, and then tell a story that has nothing to do with anything

So thus far the week’s been pretty crappy. And, yes, I partially mean that in a literal sense. Figuratively speaking, I mean I tried telling my boss off and that I couldn’t deal with his shut anymore and also explaining to him that he’s giving me an ulcer but he just told me I’m a great employee an that everything will work out just fine and that I’m doing a great job. And, yes, I realize commas should be somewhere in there but, really, with everything else I have to worry about, I’m saying “Fuck punctuation!”

And I started a grammatical argument with a coworker concerning “lay” vs “lie” and whether saying “I don’t lie” could be interpreted as I sleep standing up. I simply explained that people “lay” and things “lie”, which   I was taught in Primary school in the grand state of Florida. I feel absolutely no need to look up whether I am, in fact, correct, since I know the Florida state education system is filled with wonderful and fine institutions. (read: everything I learned in Florida has been proven wrong time and time again)

Also, the great state of Texas neglected to teach me the proper process for human procreation and I fully believed lesbians couldn’t get pregnant by having sex with a man until the age of 22. True story. Had a girlfriend sit me down so we could have that wonderful talk about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees. And hen h explained to me why Jeremiah was a bullfrog and the real reason he shouldn’t be my friend. Did I mention she was almost always high on something and this conversation involved several joints and a bottle of rum? Eh, that’s not important.

What IS important is that I’m starting to get antsy about finally writing my book I’ve been threatening to write for two decades and am considering the purchase of a netbook to help in this cause. Or possibly just the battery charging iPhone case. Or a new notebook and doing it all the old-fashioned way. But when I do that I never know just what I’ve written since I tend to get excited when I write and have no idea what I’ve written due to horrific penmanship.

My boss seems to be a major douche

So, I’m not exactly sure why my boss seems to be such a douche.  There’s lots of little things he does, and a few big things, but all in all, there’s not just one thing I can put my finger on.

And that makes me wonder if it’s really I who has the issue.  It seems every job I have I work for an idiot, a jackass, or a combination of the two.  Now, it’s kind of a prerequisite to being in management that you be rather arrogant, so I’m not going to complain about that.  Selfishness, however, is a completely different story, as is self-righteousness.

For example, while his wife was stuck in Mexico because he couldn’t get the paperwork together and take the time off until the holiday time, he bitched and moaned about it everyday.  Yet when one of the employees only child is going through a tough time (as is he) because they’re going through that horrible waiting process to find out if she actually has cancer or not, he told said employee, “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, you need to leave your emotions outside of work.”

Now, in all fairness, the guy I’m currently working for is far from being the only manager who said anything like that.  I had a manager in Savannah who told me the same thing, then told me all about her parents and their disease and how they were crippled, and that, no, regardless of the Family and Medical Leave Act I was not, in fact, going to be allowed to take the time off to go to my grandmother’s funeral if she died.  It’s never felt better to tell someone “Fuck you, stupid cunt”.  And, no, I didn’t lose my job for it, either.

So, all in all, he’s not really that bad of a boss, he’s about par for the course, which makes me wonder: WHAT are they teaching people in business school?

Also, I described my zombie apocalypse survival plan to one of my coworkers just in case it begins while we’re working today, and a couple other people the other day, and, thus far, no one finds it strange that I actually have and action plan for that.  Anyone else have an action plan?

60 seconds in my mind

I haven’t slept in days. Why do you expect so much from me, self? The hallucination of the Leprechaun on the tree stump in the front yard wasn’t entertaining enough to write about today, so you had to sit and think about it while cooking food you’re probably not going to like but don’t really care because the stress has destroyed your stomach and, therefore, are stressing yourself out even more?

Oh, wait, that’s right.  You don’t want to write about that idea yet because you want to see if you can make money from it.  *pfft* Loser.  You’re not going to make money on that idea and all it’s going to do is get you hate mail and, quite likely, a fist to the face.  Because we’re assuming Chuck Norris won’t be offended by it and therefore you won’t get a roundhouse kick to the face.

Why did that get so popular?  Wasn’t he just a joke when you were growing up?  Isn’t the only movie you’ve ever seen him in “Sidekick”?  And the only other times you’ve seen him were in those infomercials with that model chick who really isn’t that hot.  But at least she’s better than the fat chick from yesterday wearing tights so tight her pants were see through and the seams were starting to burst.  That was just gross.  Great, now you’re not hungry anymore.  What the fuck is wrong with you for even thinking something like that while you’re trying to eat?  At least the food didn’t turn out so bad, although the garlic is a bit overpowering, but maybe a little soy sauce will fix that.  Soy sauce fixes everything.  It’s the cure for chlamydia disguised.  Okay, so the Sriacha turned out to be a better condiment for this meal.  Because hot sauce is going to help your sick tummy tremendously.  And you think in italics way too much for it to be healthy.

But thinking in bold seems like it would be too loud.  Is this loud? Yeah, it was rather disturbing, and no one wants to disturb the peace in your mind.  *snicker*

Uriah and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

So I had this totally awesome post already in my head at work and then I totally forgot it.  So I’ll just give you random highlights from my day:

  • One of the guys I work with (an older married guy) told us the story of him and the one legged chick.  It started with, “She had two at the time”, in the middle there was a leg on the dashboard and one on the seat.  She kept hitting her head on the window when another employee came out and screamed, “OH MY G-D, MY EYES AND MY INNOCENCE”, and ended with, “It wasn’t too long after that she got into an accident and they had to cut her leg off to get her out of the car.”  He always tells the most heartwarming stories.
  • Someone wiped their butt with the same piece of toilet paper several times and then threw it on the floor behind the toilet and I refused to pick it up because I’m afraid I’ll get Hepatitis A a slacker.
  • After not sleeping for more than an hour here and an hour there for several days I became deliriously belligerent at work and called everyone out on their shit.  No one liked it.
  • A customer, who we suspect spends all his time drunk, but since he’s always like that we can’t prove it, took a piss in my parking lot that was so powerful It (yes, I did it that way on purpose, thus was the power of The Piss) pressure washed that part of the parking lot.
  • Some 22 yo guy got a blow job from a high school freshman cheerleader that we politely ruined by having one of our best regulars who parked next to them stare into the window and tell them to get lost.  This was all under the extremely bright mercury lights at the extremely busy pumps.
  • I learned that I’m not fucked up enough to get paid time off despite hallucinating, sobbing on my way to work, screaming in terror at my alarm clock going off, and having an anxiety attack since, mmm, Saturday.

Thus was my wonderful day.  Oh, and the fucktard that won’t read my blog my friend that I was supposed to hang out with tomorrow since I don’t have to be up early on Thursday morning made me hang out with him and his girlfriend his roommate until 2am when I have to be up at 5am.  Not that I’ll sleep, but I’ve got shit to do, people.

How was your day?

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