hot weather, metal things, cheezy poem
Wednesday, Jul. 17, 2002
This morning when I first woke up I heard the tail end of a story about U.S. soldiers killed in Afghanistan. I didn�t hear all of it. Just a brief note on the radio. Now it�s driving me insane. I haven�t heard from my new friend Anthony and so now I�ll be neurotic until I do hear from him. arghh� This is the first 2 day span that I didn�t hear from him. And granted 2 days is no big damn deal. Just�he is at war. So 2 days starts to feel violently long. Sure, I just met him�but�all the same�
Secondly, I�m in a better mood, but it�s still not great. It�s hot as a mofo here. It�s not the temperature although it�s already at 83 degrees at 9 a.m. Weather.com says it feels like 94. I say it feels like �fucking hot�. The humidity�are you ready? It�s a whopping 94 percent! In my hometown up in PA it is a cool 69 degrees right now and the humidity is a mere 68 percent. Must be nice there this morning. In Phoenix it�s 88, in Wilmington its 82 and even in Dallas its 76 degrees but they do have a high 91 percent humidity level. In London it�s 75. But I can�t find the humidity level. And I have no clue what the temp in Afghanistan is cause I need a friggin� geography class. I never had one. Ok ok this is pathetic. I have no idea what region of the world Afghanistan is in. That�s it. I�m buying me a globe this weekend. Yup, this weekend, I sure am.
I did something mean and no one knows about it. Now, I�m about to break it down for ya. Yesterday Unger said that shitty thing to me and so he left work at 3 p.m. like he�s been mysteriously doing for the last month or so with no explanations to the rest of us as to why he has to leave like this now etc. which is a bone of contention of sorts because what�s the big deal that anything has to be so hush hush? But anyways, he has this little metal thingie m�jig. It�s a hard thing to describe. It�s metal and looks like a bolt but it has two screw on type things on the ends. Well, Unger plays with this item all day long. Walks around with it in his hands, screwing and unscrewing, he bangs it on his desk and just freaks out when he misplaces it. There�s no name for it. It just showed up in a box of inventory one day and he�s been in love with it since. I�ve witnessed him freak the fuck out when he loses it. Ok so, he left yesterday and I stole it. Yup I hijacked it. Took it right off his desk as slick as baby oil on a ducks back.
And he�s hunting for it as I type this and I keep minimizing so he doesn�t bust me�shhhh . So I�m thinking I�m going to take a pic of it with my digital and send it to him via email with a ransom note from a email I create. Like something like �thing�a�ma�[email protected]�. Either way, I got even. Perhaps I�ll send him a Kay Jewelers ad in the mail too. With a note �help me Unger�help me�.they�re torturing me in the metal melting department�. Damn I need help. But it�s so damn funny, he�s hunting for a hunk of screwy metal and I have it in my backpack tucked away like a secret. I�m a metal klepto. Just a thousand more hunks of screwy metal and I can build a robot. I swiped it, I took it, I kleptoed it, I performed the 5 finger linger, I kyped it, pocketed it, I have it. IT�S MINE! Bwah ha ha � Kay Jeweler�s bullshit comments get you nowhere. Tie your metal screwy things down permanently before you go pissing people off. If I had my Kay�s ring I woulda left it there in the screwy thingies place. I just peeked and I noticed that he�s got this thingie rubbed raw. I feel bad for his pee pee. He�s a brutal rubber.
Funny the last place I worked there was a guy, Woody, who had an oral fixation the size of Texas. He chewed all of his pens so that the ends looked like giant brooms. It was the most disgusting thing ever. But I wondered often about his oral skills. I just don�t think I could handle my hoo hoo looking like the end of a broom. And yeah, his name really was Woody. No diaryland nick there. He�s the same guy that had a naked picture of himself right on his harddrive and my friend who shall remain nameless found it on his HARDDRIVE while fixing the guys pc. Needless to say that he showed us all. Woody standing in a strange pose without a Woody. It was rather sad. Sad to see a guy stoop so low�look so stoic and odd.
Yeah ok, I�ve worked with some freaky people. It�s the electronics industry for ya. Speaking of which, I wrote this poem yesterday about the frustrations of buying active/passives from China. I have nothing against Chinese people, but the only Chinese thing I�m buying while being at work, is food from around the corner. My boss saw this poem and went and posted on brokerforum.com. You gotta be a member there to see this stuff. But it�s pretty funny. I now have lame poetry published to the electronics world in masses. You�d have to be in this industry to understand how true and funny this poem is. Don�t send me hate mail in Chinese writing, I can�t understand it.
A thousand mud huts
in the China sky
A million little part man's
that only speak in English lies
You need two hundred?
they will promise three
You have P.O. in hand
they say "send P.O. me"
You wire your advance T.T.
and begin the silent wait
Your parts will never arrive
or half will arrive too late
It never ends up happily
something always goes wrong
Just take my word for it
Don't buy from Mr. Wong!
