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dirtysanchex
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Name: john
Country: United States
State: Michigan
Metro: Grand Rapids
Gender: Male
Interests: I live in the country on purpose, I like the quiet and don't wish to smell or hear my neighbor's dirty garbage. I like my dogs, cats and cows. I like to daydream while riding my lawn tractor. I like Hunter S. Thompson and Kurt Vonnegut.
Expertise: It's starting to be the heart
Occupation: Medical
Industry: Medical
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
3/11/2006
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| I am an asshole. Or at least that is what the lady behind me in the grocery store said yesterday. Let me prelude by saying my usual grocery store was closed for construction and I was forced to go to a smaller local grocery store. I picked up a cart full of stuff; dog food, cat food, water, tampons whatever. I pushed my cart to the check out and waited in line for 20 minutes, removed my items to the conveyor, I get scanned and my total is tallied. I handed her my card...then she hands it back. We can't accept cards sir you have to pay cash. "Why?" "Card machine is broke..." I keep one tattered paper check in my wallet for emergencies and dinner parties. "Can you take a check?" "Have you ever written one here before?" "No." "Then no." "So I have to pay cash?" Nodding. "How was I supposed to know before I got this far?'' Now I am starting to hear huffs and puffs behind me. The cashier points to the small sticky note on the credit card machine. "Do you have an ATM?" "Up the road a ways." Now I am getting into this. "How long has this been going on?" "All day." "Well has it occurred to call the card company or the dial up to your local bank to get them out here?" Crickets "You are now regretfully the only grocery in 40 miles, you can't take cards, which is the only way 80% of civilized life deals with money and the only warning you have for people who are busy, went out of there way to come here is this one fucking shread of paper? Don't say sorry!!! Not to mention you are completely out of Diet Coke which is the only reason I really came... Do you know what would happen if I performed this way at work?" "You can put your stuff back if you want." "Sir why are you being such an asshole" came from behind me. The reason I was such an asshole is that if I miss one thing at work or say the wrong thing to the wrong person, my service could be sued for large quanitities of money, millions. I cannot have a day off at work. My credit card machine cannot not work. If I make mistakes people may perish...no shit, people could die. And I would be responsible. I respect that and except it. But why shouldn't I be able to get pissed when other people provide a half ass service? Why can't I sue them? Why can't I sue the grocery for my time and psychological damage? Am I really an asshole for expecting other people to have to perform at the same level I am required to, despite the job? Somewhere there is a deeper sociological issue that if you looked in the eyes of those fucking up you would begin to recognize. I can't put my finger on it or maybe I don't want to. I did end up sucking it up and taking out cash from up the road. Assholes. | | |
| Tomorrow it all starts again. I had the last 8 days off, and to tell the truth, I missed it alittle. Before my vacation I worked so much that the adrenaline and the fatigue all became like a juicy steak to me. I fed from it and like any medium rare piece of cow...it got me a bit amped. Anyhow, the break was nice. We went to Las Vegas, stayed on the strip at the Wynn. It's really nice, if you have the means I would recommend it highly. But the elevators suck. In Las Vegas, the city of tinsel, we chose a room facing away from the strip. (we had a view of the mountains...not bad) I don't gamble, that rush has never intrigued me at all. I did spend a fair amount of time watching people gamble and have made this observation. Most gamblers are simple, searching posers. They are the people who have conversations about money or possesions or who they know just loud enough for other people to hear. They are the type of people who accuse two girls who are friends of being lesbians because 1) That's their fantasy and 2) It's all their simple brain can think of to make the suggestion for a threesome. Now it seems a stretch between the two, but I tend to linger long periods of time on connections that initially appear random. Think hard about it. Like a duck's feet, you know something is cooking under the water. Those people are longing for something they will never get. Gambling and the few people they can impress in the elevator is all they will ever catch. For them, Las Vegas is like a self mutalization...a pain they can control...mostly. I don't want to lump everyone who gambles into the category. There are some people who gamble for the torture of others, and there are those who gamble for the challenge of getting into other people's heads. Neither of those two types are amoung the simple posers. Those people are artists. You can watch them on ESPN. But I digress. I slept a lot in Las Vegas. It's surprising how much the world took out of me and I never knew until I had unlimited access to sleep. We saw the Blue Man Group. I love percussion music. They gave me chills. I ate so much twice that I had food coming out as it went in...and I still lost 1.5 lbs. My recommendations: If there are four hotels to see or stay at choose: Wynn, Venetian, Ceasars or Bellagio. If you can't stay there, you have to at least take the time to walk through them...and throw in the Luxor if you are walking through. I have the number of a driver (professional) who will come and pick you up at the airport and take you to your hotel for around $40. Believe me it's worth it, the taxi line is 45 minutes. My final thoughts...Las Vegas is good. I like a town so open about sex that they pass it out on the street and deliver it with room service. I like a town that never closes even on Sundays. I like a town that will objectify food in a sexual manner on multiple big screen TVs right in front of you as you wait 1 hour in line for a buffet. Plus the lights are pretty...and we saw Dennis Rodman. | | |
| I wrote this a long time ago. It’s a poem even if it doesn’t rhyme. The meter sucks, don’t look it up. I have always had a particular attraction to Goth and witches ant stuff. I am trying to work that out. By the way I realize that Wiccans and Goth have had nothing to do with each other until recently. Gothic is a period. Now they both wear the same make-up.
Pretty Witches
A long time ago, when I was very young,
I used to dream about witches.
Pretty witches...with red lips
dark eyes and pointy hats.
Pretty witches.
I would dream that they would kidnap me,
take me away, strip me, tie me up.
They’d gather around giggle,
Move slowly with their eyes turn crooked to the side,
Then...
They would paint the tip of my penis black.
I would turn pale and cold,
Not moving and
I would wake with a start!
Terrified, panting
But always fully erect...
I am older now,
I’ve outgrown such things.
I don’t dream often of pretty witches
But still,
Almost always...
I awake fully erect.
John Mulder 1993 | | |
| During an hour's swimming at a municipal pool you will ingest 1/12 liter of urine.
In an average day your hands will have come into indirect contact with 15 penises (touching door handles etc.)
An average person's yearly fast food intake will contain 12 pubic hairs.
In a year you will have swallowed 14 insects - while you slept!
Annually you will shake hands with 11 women who have recently masturbated and failed to wash their hands.
Annually you will shake hands with 6 men who have recently masturbated and failed to wash their hands.
In a lifetime 22 workmen will have examined the contents of your dirty linen basket.
At an average wedding reception you have a 1/100 chance of getting a cold sore from one of the guests.
Daily you will breath in 1 liter of other peoples' anal gases.
HAVE A GREAT DAY...
And WASH your damn hands!!!!!!!! | | |
|    These are my pets. The one with the horns is Norma. She's been impregnated by a bull named Oscar Meyer (so named because he is now someone's bologna). The one next to her is Fozzy. The black one is my princess SweetPea. She is with bologna's child as well. The brown one behind her is Barney Fife. When we got him he was very thin, knock kneed and I thought he might die. He wouldn't eat for a long time and as winter approached I was sure I would find him frozen. I trained him to eat grain separately from the others and eventually he started putting on weight. There is another one who doesn't have a name because she is ugly. I couldn't get her out of the barn to take a picture...eventually I will eat her. | | |
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