With Great Power....

…. Comes Great Responsibility.

For those of you who aren’t cool enough to read comic books, THAT is the mantra of the Amazing Spider Man.

But I’ve been thinking that this particular saying often applies to me as well.

And before you ask, the answer is “No!”.  I most assuredly do NOT fight crime each night swinging from rooftop to rooftop in a skintight bodysuit.

Believe me, I’ve got the body for it, and I’d really LOVE to fight evil and all, but I can’t seem to find a pair of tights that give me enough room in the groin area.  Maybe I’ll need to special-order some.

What was I talking about again? 

Oh yeah, power and responsibility.

In case anyone doesn’t know, I spend my days (or as I’ll soon be calling it, my alter-ego) working as a computer programmer.

And being a computer programmer for an organization, you need to have access to all of their internal data and information.

It’s pretty overwhelming sometimes to realize that all of the data, the sensitive and personal information, of everyone who works in the entire company, and all of their clients, are right at your fingertips.

Of course, I am a mature and responsible cog in my organization, so I never abuse this privilege.  Plus, I have this aversion to being fired.  To continue the superhero motif, it’s like my Kryptonite.

But, I have to admit, that there have been times when I was much younger, and worked for previous companies, where the urge to peek at and fuck with people’s data was too overwhelming to pass up.

One time, while working at a company that is no longer in business, my boss was SUCH an asshat and SO fucking mean to me every day, that one night I dialed into the company mainframe (on a 1600 baud modem, no less!  I’m old), and deleted all of his private directories where he kept all his documents and important information.  I took great relish in watching him run around all morning like a chicken with his head cut off trying to fix what he thought was a system glitch and find all of his info that only I knew was gone for good.

Another time, again for a company that has long since been sold and transitioned out of state, there was this guy who I worked with who was quite possibly the biggest jerkoff I have ever known.  He made that FIRST asshat look like Mother Theresa.  One day, after he once again pissed me off, I went into the system and changed his sex to “Female”.  About 3 weeks later I heard him in his office, yelling at the HR department because he kept getting phone calls that he needs to schedule his yearly OBGYN appointment.

That one made me giggle for eons…….

Anyway, the whole point I was trying to make at the beginning of this rambling post is that as I have gotten older, not only have I become better much better looking, but I have shed my previous immaturity and not given in to my base temptations for revenge.

But it would be SOOOO damn easy.  And Heaven knows there are people here who deserve it…..

But no, I have transcended all of that nonsense.  I will stay professional and do my job accordingly.

But under NO circumstances will I stop peeing in the company coffee pot.

How I Met Your Mother

I’ve started watching How I Met Your Mother On Netflix.

I know I’m kinda late to the party here, since this show has already been on the air for about 93 seasons already, but I felt like I needed to take a break from most of the “at best ok” straight-to-dvd horror movies currently clogging up my Netflix queue, and try something that was light, airy, and refreshing... just like my panties.

Anyway, I am now halfway through season three and I’ve come to a few conclusions.  First off, I DO like the show.  I don’t LOVE it, but I seem to like it well enough to hit the “next episode” button every few days to watch another one.  It CAN be funny, but it just as easily can be quite lame.  I guess I’m just more tolerant of any incoming lameness when it comes at me in a palpable 20-minute dose.

And Neal Patrick Harris is one funny dude.  He absolutely drives that show and I don’t think I could stomach it without him.  His antics on that show as Barney Stintson are Legen…….wait for it…..dary.

If you watch the show, then you got that.  If not, then I just made no fucking sense.

Anyway, as I said, im halfway through season three and there is just ONE part of the show that I can’t FUCKING STAND.

Unfortunately, it’s the main character.

Ted Moseby is, without a doubt, the most wishy-washy, self-doubting, anally-retentive character ever put to screen.  He makes Woody Allen look like Vin Diesel.  Every single episode, he hems and haws over some asinine decision and what is the ‘right’ thing to do.  It just gets old very quickly, and I don’t know if I can continue to watch 4 more seasons of his excessive introspection.

It pretty much came to a head for me the other day when I watched the episode where he meets the chick who used to play Winni Cooper from the Wonder Years (all grown up now, and quite tasty) and some other hot blond, and they go back to his place because they want a threesome.  The entire episode revolves around Ted constantly leaving the girls alone so he can talk out the situation with his friends because he’s not sure what is the right thing to do.  The episode spends more time with Ted talking out how his night might go, than actually talking to the girls.

It was unrealistic, infuriating, aggravating, and most importantly, annoying.  I just wanted to reach into the TV, slap the holy FUCK out of him, and tell him to just bang them already.

Anyway, unless Ted ‘Mans Up’ REAL soon, I don’t know if I can watch him go through 4 more seasons of self-therapy.

How Do Ya Like Me Now?

Well, I finally got around to watching Horrible Bosses this week.

I really wanted to see this movie when it first came out, pretty much solely because I think Charlie Day is the shit.  True to form, he was awesome in this movie, and overall I thought it was pretty damn funny. 

Definitely worth a rental, or if you have HBO, its playing like every 5 minutes this month.

And 2 big thumbs up to Jennifer Anniston, who plays a VERY slutty, dirty-talking dentist. 

My God Jen, I didn’t know you had it in you, you filthy little girl, you…

Anyway, thanks to the movie, I’ve had this damn song stuck in my head for 4 days now. 

I’m really digging it, but humming it to myself all day is starting to grate on everyone around me.

So I thought, why not share the love, so you guys can annoy YOUR coworkers as much as I’ve been annoying mine?

Honestly, I think the video is a bit crappy, but darn it all if I am not completely smitten with this song.

Anyway, Enjoy.   Happy Weekend, all!

Rites Of Passage

Sometimes, Mini-Me says something that absolutely makes my day.

The other day, we continued my indoctrination of him to the world of Star Wars.

As you know, each and every boy on the planet MUST watch all of these movies, and love them!  It's mandatory.

Technically, all you need to pass the test is to agree that episodes 4, 5, and 6 were awesome and episodes 1, 2, and 3 sucked balls, but that is a secondary requirement.

It’s a ritual of passage and we won’t let you into the “Man’s club” until a young lad finally submits and watches these films.

Anyway, we were sitting around Friday night watching “The Phantom Menace” (which he afterwards told me wasn’t nearly as good as the first 3… that’s my boy!), when he turns to me and said:

Mini-Me: Daddy, I love you. Thank you for watching movies with me.

Stud: I LOVE watching movies with you. Thank you for watching movies with me, too.

Mini-Me: And I love you and Mommy very much.

Stud: We love YOU very much, too!

Mini-Me: I have a very good life. I’m a happy kid.

Stud: I’m glad to hear that. I want you to be happy for your whole life.

Mini-Me: Well, so far I’m happy.

Stud: Well, good.

Mini-Me: Thanks a lot for making me. I really appreciate it.

Stud: Son, believe me, I had a great time doing it.

I’m Cranky

Yes, I’m cranky, dammit.

Why am I in a foul mood, you might ask?

Good people of the interwebs, I must make a shocking announcement…..

I have decided to go on a diet.

I know, I know. When you have a body and face like mine, there isn’t any reason to EVER fuck with it.

It’s kinda like painting freckles on the Mona Lisa.

But regardless, I have decided that this past winter, I may have indulged a bit too much on Doritos and Jelly Beans (no, not at the same time! Although, that’s not a bad idea…. I could take 2 Doritos and put Jelly Beans in the middle and make a Dorito/Jelly Bean sandwich! Yum!).

So, even though I go to the gym almost every day and work these cannons that lesser men call biceps, I think I need to drop a few pounds from the old stomach-region to get that old six-pack back where it belongs.

And, I have come to a somewhat startling conclusion…..

Dieting sucks.

I mean REALLY sucks.

It’s hard.

I see something that I WANT to eat, but then I don’t eat it.

That’s just fucking cruel. Don’t show me something yummy if I can’t have it.

(p.s. That goes for boobs, too…)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, dieting blows.

But I have to say, that I have found this awesome dieting app for my Iphone that I have been using that kicks serious amounts of ass.

It’s called MYFITNESSPAL and I’ve been doing it since Sunday. I entered in my height, weight, and how much I wanted to lose a week. It calculated that if I didn’t go over 1600 calories a day, I’d lose at least a pound a week. What’s really cool is that you can use your iphone to scan in the barcode of whatever you are eating, and it will tell you the calories and record it for you. It’s really fucking awesome.

But I have to tell you, sticking to under 1,600 calories a day is HARD.

Tuesday I took Mini-Me to Panera, where we both planned to get one of our favorite meals, Chicken Brocolli soup in a Bread Bowl.

Well, that plan got derailed right quick when I saw that Chicken Brocolli soup in a Bread Bowl is 800 calories! That’s half of what I can eat in a day! No way could I swing that shit!

In the end, HE got his dream lunch and I was left with a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

But so far, I’m proud to say that I’m sticking to it. Even with 20 people over the house on Easter Sunday and more food and desserts thrown at me that I could count, I have managed to keep my calorie intake anywhere between 20-400 calories under my limit every day so far.

Which, is awesome. Yay for me and my willpower!

The only downside is, I’m not a very happy person right now.

It’s fucking Doris in Fucking Accounting’s fucking birthday today and some asshat thought it would be fucking nice to bring in fucking bagels with fucking cream cheese. I’m watching all these jackoffs eat in front of me and it’s PISSING ME OFF!

But I can stay strong. I can do this.

I am going to Jamaica in 5 weeks and I WILL be back to thong-wearing form by then.

It’s the LEAST I can do for you ladies…….

I’m Friends With A Murderer

Hi kiddies…. This is the waaaaay too overdue next installment of my 2 Truths and a Lie.

You remember what that is, right? I made 3 statements in that post. Two of them are true and the other one is a lie.

Well, I thought it was finally time to admit one of my “truths”.

I am friends with a murderer.

Let’s back up a bit.

About 15 years ago, I used to play this “play by mail” game. The details aren’t important, but all you need to know is that there was this game that thousands of people were playing at the same time. Once a week, you would send this company a list of orders you wanted your team to enact, and once they had everyone’s orders, a computer would process them all, and send you the results. Sexy, right?

Anyway, I used to enjoy it. It was a wargame, and I found pleasure each week in receiving my results in the mail (this was pretty much pre-internet) and seeing how my army of orcs and knights were laying waste to the other player’s cities.

Sometimes, I would form alliances with other players. When that happened, we would exchange email addresses so we could form strategies together.

One week, I agreed to ally with this particular player, and instead of sending me an email, I was surprised to find that he sent me a 3 page, hand-typed (by a typewriter!) letter. When I replied to him, I told him next time, just email me because communicating thru computer was so much easier.

But the next month, I once again got a type-written letter from him.

After a few months of this, I finally just asked him why he didn’t want to exchange emails, and I was shocked when he admitted to me that he was in prison and was only allowed to type letters.

That really threw me. His letters were always so eloquent and well-written. I had always pegged him for an eccentric scholar, not a criminal. After thinking about it for a bit, the only conclusion I could come to was that he must have been incarcerated for one thing…. Drugs. Somehow, he must have got caught with some pot or something, and was doing a few months in the pokey. It was the only thing that made sense to me.

After a few more months of correspondence, I finally got the nerve to write to him and ask him what he did to wind up in the slammer, and when he was getting out.

He wrote back to me quickly, and said that he would tell me, but he had to do it in a separate letter, since it was a long story.

THAT certainly got my suspicions up.

One month later, I received another letter by him. His opening sentence floored me.

“I have been in prison since 1978.”

And if the BEGINNING of his tale knocked me on my ass, I really hadn’t read ANYTHING yet.

His story was a long one, going on for many pages, but here’s the 10 cent version:

In 1972, he was living in Florida and at the age of 17, got married right out of high school. He joined the Navy but his wife had a problem with him being away for months on end, and they would fight about it often. They also both were alcoholics, so that undoubtedly made the fights worse.

He said one night when he was home on leave their fight got particularly nasty. She threatened to tell his C.O. about his drinking in order to get him dishonorably discharged. He said that between his rage, that he always had a problem with, and the drinking, he finally snapped and did ‘something’ to his wife.

He spared me the details, except to strongly imply that an axe was involved.

He said that after the incident, he was so horrified by what he had done, that he tried to cover his crime by setting his house on fire. Everything inside, including his wife, was burned to a cinder.

And apparently he DID get away with it. I guess the folks at C.S.I. in 1972 weren’t QUITE what they are nowadays.

He said he went back to the navy, and tried to live his life. But as the months turned to years, the guilt of what he had done kept gnawing at him. He began to see a priest for regular counseling, and, with his help, walked into a Florida police station in the summer of 1978 and turned himself in.

He’s been in jail ever since. The last time he wrote to me, he hoped that he would be granted a parole in 2008, 30 years after he first entered jail.

Needless to say, I was fucking FLOORED. I really didn’t know how to handle it. It felt kind of shitty to ask him to stop writing me after I ASKED him to tell me what he was in jail for, but of course it’s ALSO kind of shitty to murder your wife. Call me a rebel but I’m gonna publically take a stand on that.

So, I continued my correspondence with him, but admittedly I didn’t share too much about myself with him after that, pretty much sticking to only talking about the game.

And every year, up until a few years back anyway, he would send me a Christmas card, sent from the prison, wishing me and my family a wonderful and joyous holiday. I’m still not too sure how I feel about that.

Anyway, that’s my first truth.

One interesting side note: During the course of the game, I learned that one of the people that we were at war with in the game, was ALSO in inmate at the same prison as my ‘friend’. My buddy wrote me a few times asking me if we could back off attacking this other guy for a while, because he had been giving my friend dirty looks in the cafeteria and he was concerned about there being some bad blood.

THAT was ALL I needed to hear. The last thing I wanted was for this dude to get shanked in the fucking shower one day because I had sent my dragons to attack this guy’s castle.

So, let that be a lesson to you all. Never tell people your mailing address until you’ve first asked them if they’ve ever had a full cavity search.

Today’s “Head Up Their Ass” Award

Let’s play the “Hypothetical” game today, shall we?

Let’s say, HYPOTHETICALLY, someone we ALL hypothetically know happens to work for a hypothetical company where he was forced to attend a hypothetical meeting yesterday, where the following hypothetical conversation took place.

Bright Bulb # 1: “Ok, I have run the audit file through the new software, and reviewed the results.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Great. Can you tell us your findings?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Well, I’ve got some good news and some …. not too good news….”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Ok, what’s the bad news?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Well, 97% of the records that were present in the audit file were rejected by the system due to invalid data.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “97%! That’s horrible! What could possibly be the good news?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Well, since our target number is to have a 95% failure rate, we are still well within our numbers!”

Bright Bulb # 2: “95% failure rate?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Yes, in our project plan, it states that we are targeting a 95% failure rate of return.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Bob, that is obviously a typo. We are actually targeting a 95% SUCCESS rate of return.”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Oh.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Bob?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Ok. Well, it appears then that our audit test didn’t go as well as we previously reported.”