The Still Don't Give a Shit About the RNC Update

So, getting to work in St. Paul has been uneventful for the most part. The worst part has been on 94 where people are attempting to get off on Snelling in order to get to the the Minnesota State Fair. There's always a long line of cars on the offramp, and they're so backed up that one of the lanes on the interstate is blocked.

Also, this morning there was a nice wreck on 94 in Minneapolis just before the bridge, so there was a traffic jam ON SUNDAY MORNING. These church going types need to learn how to drive.

There are cops everywhere. You drove by two traffic stops on my way home from work tonight. There are unmarked police cars parked here and there around work.

The big day is tomorrow. Thank god the president W and his bulldog, Cheney, decided not to come to St. Paul due to hurricane weather. That should make your drive work in the morning a little easier.

You have your fingers crossed for an easy drive to work an back, but you're certain at least one or both will be hell.

Shit hit the fan at work. All these emails came down the pipe. Anyone working tomorrow MUST have their parking permit, and MUST have their ID badge. We have to park in special places behind the building, and we have to enter through the trucking bay doors, because the front of the building will be blocked and locked.

Who would want to bomb Castcom? Well, actually, a lot of their customers would like to bomb them, but not for political reasons.

You've been getting a lot of wackos calling in too. Some dipshit called in and started yelling at you because CSPAN was showing an old interview with Dick Cheney. He wanted you to shut down CSPAN because the speech is politically biased, blah, blah, blah. And you were like, "Um, sir...number one...you've reached tech support for high-speed internet. Two, Castcom doesn't control CSPAN, they just broadcast it. And, three, do you really think Castcom cares what you think, or me for that matter?"

His response: "Well, Castcom is the 800-pound gorilla! You know what I mean! The gorilla in the room!"

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

You transferred him to a supervisor's voicemail just to get rid of him.

The Don't Give a Shit About the RNC Update

Minneapolis, Minn. - You didn't give a rat's ass about the RNC again today. You had the day off and you didn't do much, but you sure as hell didn't think about the RNC being in town starting next week.

At one point, around 3:30 PM, you did go to the gym. You decided to just do cardio today, because your delts, chest, obliques, and abs are still sore from your previous two days' workouts. But you still didn't give a shit that the RNC will be in St. Paul starting Monday.

You watched a few episodes of King of Queens you had on your DVR. But, as much of a waste of time as that was, you still weren't bored enough to care that the Republic national convention was in town.

You did some laundry. Towels mostly. You used liquid Tide, and Bounce fabric softener, but you could give a shit less that the RNC is about to start.

STAY TUNED!

The STAY TUNED: Republican National Convention is in town, and it's a pain in the ass

It's your intention to give an unadulterated view of what it's like to live in Minneapolis, and work in Saint Paul, and still attempt to ignore the fact that the Republican National Convention will be in town.

You're doing a pretty good job so far.

The worst part will be Monday, September 1st. On that day you have to work at 7:30 AM. It's Labor Day, but you're pretty sure traffic is still going to suck super ass because it's the first day of the freakin' RNC.

Reports will follow.

The Herkimer Review

So, there was an incident. You're plastering this review of the Herkimer everywhere.

My girlfriend and I go to the Herk at least twice each month for dinner, and probably another two times in a month just to have a beer and watch the game. We don't go for the food, because the food isn't that great. We don't go for the beer, because the beer isn't that great either. And we certainly don't go for the service, because the service is consistently awful. We go because we live a few blocks away, and we like to support the neighborhood.

Well, that changed last night. We decided on the Herk, because we wanted burgers, beer, and a place to watch the Twins game. The bartender (the douchebag with the sad blonde mohawk. Ooooh, yr so pseudo-punk and stuff) refused to serve us, because, in his words, "One of the waitresses thinks you've had a few too many already."

What?

1. My girlfriend had just gotten off work.
2. He was the first person we'd encountered in the bar.
3. We were ASKING FOR DINNER MENUS.
And, most importantly...
4. We simply hadn't been drinking...yet.

Understand that my GF and I were ready to plunk down at least $50-60 plus tip, if not more (the beer is overpriced, and the food isn't exactly cheap). We are very good tippers, especially at establishments we frequent a lot. And, again, we hadn't been drinking before we walked through the Herk's front door. What gives?

The staff at the Herk has always seemed like a group of stuck up, lazy douchebags, but last night pretty much sealed it. My GF and I have both worked in restaurants in the past, so we know laziness and outright douchebaggery when we see it, and we see it at the Herkimer A LOT.

Good riddance. We went to Figlio's instead. They have a better special on Tuesday nights anyway. We would have gone there in the first place, but it's further away.

To sum up: Avoid the Herk. Douchebags work there. The food kinda blows, and the beer is overpriced. Thanks for your time.

The New Job

Yes, you've been offered a new job. Yay! And you've accepted the new job. Uhg!

But, come on, it will be more of the same. It may be tier II tech support, but it's still tech support, and it may be a promotion, but that is so not glamorous.

It's more money. Not a lot more money, but enough more to make Sweetie go, "Ooooh, that's like $5,000 more a year. Ooooh, that's nice." See, that's why Sweetie is so awesome, because her math is always on the bright side.

It's a Minneapolis-based company. You've talked to people who have worked there in the past, and you hear it's like uber-corporate. Like never utter the word "penis" corporate. Like don't stare too long at the hot girl in the next cubicle too long corporate. Like don't drive an ugly car corporate. Like don't discuss your private life, because it might be too sexy, or illegal in some way, or involve uncomfortable subject matter like cancer or Jesus or dance music or XXX movies or what day the garbage man comes or dandruff shampoo or diarrhea or that gay cousin you bumped into downtown.

But it has to be better that Castcom where no one talks at all.

You meant to blog about the job interview, but like everything else, it fell to the wayside. Here's an abridged version:

The interview was a surprise, so you had to get a crappy haircut at Cost Cutters because Hairpolice was booked with only a one-day notice. You bought a pinstriped Billy London suit, a blue shirt, and a hot DKNY tie at Herberger's and you returned the suit after the interview (but you kept the tie because Sweetie really liked it). This was all accomplished within an hour after working overtime at Castcom from 6 - 10 AM.

The interview was at 12:30 PM. Who schedules an interview during lunch hour?

You drove north for awhile, and you took a wrong turn, but thanks to breaking the speed limit and running red lights, you ended up at the interview with 5 minutes to spare. Whew!

The place was sort of depressing. You had to talk through a speaker on the front door to a security guard in order to get access. The guard made you sign a clipboard and then gave you one of those "VISITOR" passes to clip on your suit jacket that screams "THIS DORK IS HERE FOR A JOB INTERVIEW" but you looked damn good in that suit, so you didn't panic.

The place had fake plants. Always a bad sign. If a place doesn't pay someone to take care of the plants, then the place is skimpy and could care less about the small details. The cubicle walls were originally off-white, but they were all old and stained. Yuck! Depressing. They looked like dirty diapers.

The guy who interviewed you was a serious dick. But, hey, like you told Sweetie, maybe it's time to have a boss who's a dick, and who tells it like it is. You Castcom manager seemed very, very, very nice in the interview, and she turned out to be a corporate witch who never left her office unless it meant coming to a meeting to shout down any dissenters of her new ridiculous policies. So, maybe it's time to have a boss who's going to be a dick from day one. No surprises.

The Wanna Fuck Miley Cyrus

So, you wanna fuck Miley Cyrus, and you realize that makes you a giant pedophile perv. Yeah, you and every guy on the planet who isn't gay, and you're pretty sure, given the opportunity, even one or two gay guys would put their penis in Miley's vaginal area just to be able to say they did it. (They just have the good taste not to blog about it, probably.)

And, believe it or not, that's not even the really fucked-up part, because you don't even think Miley Cyrus is that cute.

Let's have a picture:

Wanting to fuck Miley Cyrus has nothing to do with how Miley Cyrus looks. In fact, if she wasn't famous, and she walked by you on the street, you wouldn't even notice. She'd be just another annoying 15-year-old douchebag. Wanting to fuck Miley Cyrus has to do with who she is.

Why is she everyone's sweetheart? You have no idea. Whatever. Who cares. But the fact that she is everyone's sweetheart makes her fuckable fantasy material.

You've never even heard a Miley Cyrus song (though, you're pretty certain her music is probably Disney-esque, paint-by-numbers, sing-songy bullshit that sucks major balls), but her picture is plastered everywhere. EVERYWHERE!

Have you ever attempted to walk through a Walmart without seeing Miley's cleavage? You haven't, but that's because you don't shop at fucking Walmart, but you were in a Kmart the other day for some reason, and Miley Cyrus's toothy face was in every aisle.

And she's always in these these skimpy outfits showing all that leg. You need another picture to illustrate your point:

They should change her name to Money Cyrus, because her pretty ass is making everyone loads of dough. Well, everyone but you. Her pimp/father has got to be raking it in, but that's a subject for another blog.

The 911 Sandwich Douchebag

Ok, you deal with a lot of dipshits at work, and A LOT of douchebags, but this asshole really takes dipshit and douchebag to a whole new level:



Here's another story from CNN about how 911 operaters have to deal with a large number of idiots on a daily basis. Ha! They should try tech support at Castcom! You had to tell a woman the other day you couldn't help her with her sticky keyboard after she spilled Diet Coke on it. Well, except you told her to switch to Coke Zero, because Diet Coke tastes like ass, and Coke Zero is awesome.

The Superbad

OK, so you're late for everything, which includes seeing movies. Because, well, movies are encompassed by the term "everything".

So, you just now saw the movie SUPERBAD, which was released like forever ago and whatnot, and everyone else has already seen it, but everyone else seems to have a free moment or two in their fucking lives to see a movie every now and then, and, well, you don't, so you just saw SUPERBAD now.

Anyway, so you pulled the movie up on "on demand" (free premium OD is one of the perks of your shitty job) and you only meant to have it on in the background while you were getting ready to go to the gym, but it made you laugh so hard you nearly peed yourself, so you ended up watching the whole thing, and now Sweetie is going to kill you, because you had a whole "to do" list of shit to take care of this afternoon, and, well, you accomplished none of it.

One of the things you were supposed to do was apply for a mortgage.

Whoops!

Anyway, you're so glad there are still movies being made that are actually worth seeing. You're so glad that some guys had the balls to write a screenplay about being a kid that only adults are allowed to see, because, well, that tells you something doesn't it.

Oh, and in case any superfans of SUPERBAD stumble onto this: my favorite character was Fogell/Mclovin.

That's fucking genius. But, then I'm telling you what you already know, right?