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For Immediate Release!

The National Weather Center has issued a warning on Monday morning in response to the heat wave, stating that New York City is on a “Smells Like Chinatown Everywhere Watch” and it is expected to last throughout the entire week. This new warning supercedes the “Hot As Balls Watch”, which the city has been under thus far all summer long.

In response to the “Smells Like Chinatown Everywhere Watch” the city has opened cooling centers, which filter the air to a non stinky state, ordered all garbage must be picked up immediately, and the immediate and mandatory warning that everyone must abide by the shower twice a day rule. Mayor Bloomberg informed me that Police Commissioner Ray Kelly assured him that the 30,000 uniformed New York Police Officers are ready to enforce this rule by any means necessary. The Mayor also assured us that the FDNY are on standby with their hoses full, awaiting word of when to spray the masses of B.O. filled swarms of people.

Things are so bad in the city that a West Village woman who wished to only be reported as “Gloria” informed us that her block smelled like a ten day old dead cat, drunk people vomit from bridge and tunnel folk, which she believes was most likely spewed early on Saturday morning about 3am, mixed in with really old people. It should be noted that “Gloria” lives just two blocks from a Senior Citizens Home.

Remember; if you smell something say something!

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Growing Up In Brooklyn

A childhood friend of mine took the Bar Exam yesterday, and I happened to run into him on the corner last night. He said he burst out laughing in the middle of the exam, which as he described it as being the most important moment of his life so far. He said he had read a question involving a couple getting caught pulling off a charity scam when he had a memory that he hadn’t thought of for 10 years pop into his head. He asked if I knew what it could have been? My response was, you must have thought about when we were about 6 or 7 and would pretend to be blind and in need of money. I was dead on right. I can’t remember the last time I thought of those blind charity scams we did.

This is how we came up with the idea. See, we lived a few blocks away from the Century 21 department store, on busy 86th Street in Brooklyn, and in the mid 1980s there were all kinds of beggars, and pretzel vendors out of a supermarket wagon type of folk. One beggar in particular was a blind guy, who was either a dwarf or had his legs completely removed or really tiny baby legs, and he had his big can for donations, and sit in his wheelchair screaming, “Please won’t someone help find my mommy!” And he screamed it in a slightly higher than normal pitch yet all nasally about it at the same time. He pronounced it with lots of ups and downs in his vocal range too. The site of this guy in my head, with his voice still puts a grin on my face as I write this now. For some reason I always thought he couldn’t find his mommy simply because he was blind, and that he obviously needed money since he had no mommy - or that he needed money to at least cure his blindness.

We were 6 or 7 and we were genius about it. We would set up shop in front of my friends’ house; we had a table and two chairs. Then the one of us (usually me) would pretend to be completely blind. I would do this by closing my eyes as tight as I could when someone was walking up the block, close to the house, and stating to everyone that passed, I’m blind and cannot see a think. My friend would run after the people with his hand out begging for a donation to help me see. As if money alone would help us see, or that a blind person couldn’t have been able to do anything in society other than beg for money. I have since realized otherwise, but as a little kid I didn’t see everything in full view, I only saw part of things, and would piece together small pieces into something that wasn’t fully accurate. Once a woman walked past up and didn’t give us a donation, and then a few minutes later came back to yell at us, and that being blind is no joke. Being blind is no joke, but how two young children get the idea to form a charity scam involving the pretense of them being blind, hysterical.

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Californians

My cube sits outside of a corner office that is used by a guy from California. The sight of this man today has made me remember that most people from California are complete douche bag idiots in one form or another.

*** I realize that there are plenty of douche bag idiots from all over, but Californians at are the top of the list with me.

1- My high school senior trip was the first time that I remember getting the full on retardation of people that lived in California. I met a bunch of people from both Northern and Southern California. The people from up north being bigger douche bags than the southerners. My friends and I would walk around making fun of these northerners by saying “hey, I’m from California, from like uhhh, the north.” People would turn around and be like, “really? Me too!” At which point we would tell them that we were from New York and that we were really just making fun of some of the people we had come across. At this point in time I was under the impression that it was just a select few that were completely retarded. That trip also let me to meet some very good, and friendly Californian girls, but they too weren’t the brightest. While walking to go grab some dinner with them one, we decided to jaywalk, we all did it except for one blonde one and my friend Boz. A Delorean didn’t break in time and ended up hitting the girl. She was able to walk away from it, but was limping pretty badly. We immediately ran over to see how badly she was hurt, and like an idiot she just got up and refused the man who hit her with his cars request that he call for help, and even his basic info in case she wasn’t alright afterwards.
2- The entire office that works in my current department in Sacramento. All brain dead people. For some of the following reasons, they are always “busy and overworked” yet don’t produce much results in any shape or form. They will order one pen at a time. One. With shipping costs that ends up costing the company about $30.00 minimum after all the shipping costs, surcharges, etc. The guy named Don who wears Hawaiian shirts to work everyday, the same man who goes fishing every day that he can during his one hour lunch break. The same man who sits in a live videoconference room (that is on and feeding around the country) and sings to himself as if no one is watching and laughing at his being so naïve about cameras and microphones. The obese admin out there who tends to fall asleep during monthly video conferences. The woman named Robin “I can my last name every month cause I get married so much”, who calls me up to ask how to do the most basic functions of her job, walk her through it over the phone and yet still not know how it is done.
3- The senior trade supervisors in California who do will Cc thousands of people, literally thousands so that they might look as though they are a genius by thinking up such a ridiculous question one question of which they should already have known after being in the same business for 20something years.
4- The mid level manager guy in California who didn’t do his job correctly and emailed me with the questions “How could this happen? How do we prevent this from happening again?” who Cc’d his manager and mine as well. Turns out the company would prevent all that from happening again by firing said complete idiot of a manager. Go figure.
5- The people from the outside vendor that is based in California. Who built an entire system backwards. Literally backwards. Instead of one person per group seeing all the people that report to them for email supervision, they built it so that everyone can see only the top persons highly confidential email. The same company who after repeatedly being on conference calls to try and fix said problem, called me up and tried to rip me a new butthole by yelling and cursing, to which I replied you had X, Y, & Z of your employees on the conference calls, and said they would fix it. Their response, “Oh, well, I didn’t realize this.”
6- They are all about putting big water features into a small spaced garden. They also like to put doors that lead to nowhere inside a garden.
7- The guy who sits in the corner office across from my cube, who just walks and looks like the stereotypical white guy that all black people make fun of. It’s pretty hard to actually be THAT guy.

I could go on with this at further length, if I didn’t need to go take a dump. I would also like to acknowledge that there are some very good, kind, and smart individuals that I have come across; but I’d rather not bore myself with them at present moment.

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New Work Day

Today is my first full 9-5-work day at the new/old job. I haven’t done anything today, but that is based off of nobody working yesterday, HR canceling my internal personnel number, which cancelled all my desktop applications. Thankfully I am able to log in under someone else’s log ID and am able to surf the web, instead of doing day to day work of being a glorified data entry person. Just now as I wrote this, someone came over to give me a stack of paperwork that needed to get done “ASAP”. It’s a backlog of crappy paperwork, and I need copies of paperwork from the field, which should have submitted everything at once instead of in dribble. I can call each person and request the paperwork, but my not being in any system as working here, I will find this task daunting, and not worth a try. So, I shall continue my writing.

Last night I received a phone call stating that the building would be open today, but to dress “comfortable” because the air conditioning will probably not be working. I wore jeans, and a comfy shirt to work today, only to get here and see 90% of the people wearing their normal “business casual”. Business casual is very casual here to begin with, with many of the females on the floor walking around in flip flops, men in polo type shirts and khakis, while some of the males pretend to be important with shirts and ties. I usually go for the polo type shirt, with Banana Republic slacks that feel great, stand up well between dry cleaning, and make my butt look awesome. Besides myself the only other people who dressed “comfortable” were the females who already dress way to comfy everyday when they wear flip flops came in today ready for the beach.

This morning there was a big thunderstorm in Queens, and with my being on the 24th floor I get a great view of a storm. From up here you can see the clouds beginning to gather, and then lightning far away, then closer, then hitting across the street. You can see the rain swerving in sheets left and right on the way down, and I even spotted hail flying upwards from the ground.

Now I am left here with a pile of about 100 pages of work to do, but am not going to attempt to try until my email is up and running…bored, and hoping that at least one of the Mega Millions tickets that I bought a couple of weeks ago and didn’t check yet won at least 300k so that I don’t have to work for a few years.

I’m finding it odd that the power is back on in this building when there are thousands of people without power in the rest of Queens. Oh well, and on the bright side a woman in my department came back from Florida, and gave me a shot glass with chocolates inside it. Yummy, and I smell vodka needing to be poured into it. Glug Glug.

I’m going to go write a separate post about why people from California aren’t the best.

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New Job

This week I began a new old job. I started temping in the department that I used to work in full time. I began there as a temp, was hired full time, and loved by everyone. Seriously I was. They are treating me well, letting me make my own hours, give me some work but not too much cause I am a temp, let me goof off, and much more importantly allow themselves to be good people themselves in the office. Lots of joking around, makes the day go by quicker.

At present moment I am in a cube that has three neighbors, two of which are loud people in every way of themselves, and the other is a very quiet individual. All are women, post “change”, if that matters to you. Even though I am not involved in their loud conversations, I still enjoy it. I don’t pay full attention to them, but I appreciate the backround noise. Kind of like the planes that fly overhead in Brooklyn on the way to land at LaGuardia airport. If it’s not there, I just don’t feel right. From my seat I can see northern Queens through the glass of the corner office that I sit outside of, and can watch LaGuardia planes take off and land if I feel like standing up next to my cube.

Everyone welcomed me back, and there are lots of new people whose names I will most likely continue to forget. It’s one of my biggest faults, remembering names. I even blanked on quite noticable my girlfriends name on Sunday morning. Oh well, my apologies Ms. Cheese.

Yesterday was a little annoying at work, but only cause I now work in Long Island City, there were ConEd power issues going on in Queens, and the building couldn’t fully utilize the air conditioning, or run more than two elevators per bank. Luckily it was after I left that the entire building had to be evacuated due to an impending brownout. Then this morning while I was getting before work, I saw that little old me had three new voicemails. One mwas Ms. Cheese, and the other two were people that I report to, they said the entire building is without power, and to enjoy the free day off from work. No work makes me happy, even though going there for four hours isn’t really bad at all.

This week I also started going to a formal U.S. college. I have 38 Canadian college credits, so after eight years of non U.S. education, I returned. It’s a US history class, covering colonization through the Civil War. Even though most people say I look young, and most of the time still think of myself internally as being a 12 year old, I looked at my classmates and felt old, except compared to the two much older women, but most of the college kids look so young. I mean babyfat young. They still have babyfat! Schooling seems easy now that I am finally able to pay attention in class, this all caused by my lack of complete boredom of class.

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I Got A Haircut

Yes, I cut my hair myself yesterday, and I buzzed it all off. I’ve received lots of compliments, but am willing to receive more. I was even told that I look like Brad Pitt today.

Yes, I am gorgious, beautiful, and should be complimented based on my looks as often as possible.

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As I requested today is the last day of this assignment that has not been good. I’ll start on Monday at a new one in the department that I used to work full time in. I am a temp in this current position. I haven’t done any work during the last three days, and prior to that I did things that the bopping chicken which Homer Simpson had set up to keep hitting Y.

I had sought out to leave early today. My timesheet is signed off and it read till 5pm, I would have put 330pm, but my manager would like me to stay until 5pm. What could possibly possess her to want me here longer?

Vivian = Manager

1. Vivian wants see the look of disgust on my face from being here at least five more times today?
2. Vivian would like to keep yelling at people over the phone to the point that I can hear her conversations that will eventually make my ears will bleed?
3. Vivian is mean?
4. Vivian wants to get nekked and invite me into her office for drinks?
5. Vivian still thinks that a temp needs to complete an exit interview, despite that the BISO and HR say no?
6. Vivian wants more people to stop by my desk and talk trash about her to me?
7. Vivian thinks she is saving the company money by having me get paid to write this blog?
8. Vivian wants to see my bubble butt walk out of her office one last time?
9. Vivian is secretly counting how many cups of water I drink and how many times I go pee?
10. Her constant yelling is really her way of saying thank you?
11. She’s hoping that I will fart in her presence some more?
12. Vivian is planning to have a Roast in my honor at 4:30pm?
13. She is a mean person?
14. She likes knowing that someone is being paid good money, reporting to her, and doing nothing?
15. She needs to put make up on before giving me a goodbye kiss?
16. Vivian would like to sound extra spider vagina voiced over the next hour?
17. She is a megalomaniac?
18. Maybe she heard that I am an assman?
19. Vivian is waiting to have security come up and escort me out?
20. She wants to keep tempting me to send out an email to all 300,000 plus employees, about how awful she is?
21. She wants me to hear how she wants to go home yet again today?
22. She wants to watch me do nothing when she asks me to do actual work?
23. Vivian plans on opening her door and pulling a bloody tampon from her crotch, that she’s been using since 1979 when the NY Times described her as not only beautiful, but smart too, and then throwing in my general direction.
24. She wants to see if I can vomit at the mere sight of her?
25. She wants to try and set me up with one of the many gay men that work in my office?
26. Vivian wants me to spot her in the gym for an hour?
27. Vivian is planning on actually addressing employees with respect?
28. She wants to see if she can waste another 8 grand on cubicle reconfigurations that don’t make more room?
29. She wants me to finally acknowledge the return of someone who has been on vacation for the last two weeks?
30. She is using MS Paint to draw me nude?
31. She is waiting for a brick to finish curing so that she can hit me over the side of the head with it?
32. She wants me to see another email with both the names Bertram and Chalmers Cc’d in it?
33. Vivian thinks that having me stay until 5pm is an appropriate belated birthday gift?
34. She is awaiting the moth s to hatch inside her vagina, spread her legs, her them eat my clothes off my back before I go?
35. Vivian likes when I ignore the new eating disorder girl 24/7?
36. Vivian needs to keep thinking she is important?
37. She wants to see how many blogs I can publish in one day?
38. She thinks that she is my friend?
39. Vivian thinks that she s punishing me by keeping me hear only to write a blog of how awful she is, yet again?
40. Vivian needs me to sign off on her much-needed box FedEx package of KY Warming liquid?
41. She wants to give me time to swap around the letters of my QWERTY keyboard?
42. She thinks that I will just sit here and twirl my thumbs?
43. She wants to beat me up on Park Ave. in front of all the rush hour commuters?
44. Vivian wants to flick some of her dandruff on me?
45. She wants to complain more about someone else taking credit for the ATM project?
46. She wants to allow me some more time to play the Black Crowes inside my head, on repeat, without interruption?
47. She thinks 17 more farts from my butt will officially break in this new chair for her old saggy butt?
48. Vivian is preparing to perform a staged fall as she walks by my cube to put a smile on my face?
49. She wants me to watch the dust gather on the bin labeled “Items to be shredded”?
50. She thinks Gawker will have some good updates hat I shouldn’t wait to read until I got home?
51. She plans on making over the top hand movements, unlock my bottom desk drawer, and pull the Professor from Gilligan’s Island out?
52. Vivian is needs my karma while planning on getting Ryan Seacrest to out himself?
53. She wants to hear me play Larry King farting yet again in my cube?
54. She thinks if I stay too long, that I will forget to fax in my timesheet?Vivian thinks that I can’t continue writing the nasty truth about her next week?

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Strollercize

I was out to lunch thinking that the women who are wearing thongs and g-strings in this summer heat should be told that they should wear full butt pantaloon undies. You are better off having panty lines showing than having the much seen around Midtown butt sweat lines.

As that thought was in my mind I hurried up to walk in front of butt sweat lines woman, only to find myself walking behind to women pushing strollers and one with way too much self promotion on her body for Strollercize. The website has told me the same thing that anyone that has already seen someone strollercizing could tell you; which is that post prego women pay money to join to “program” to walk their baby in a stroller at a leisurely pace. These strolling mothers walked way too slow for 56th between Lex & 3rd. It’s strolling yes, but push that stroller at a faster pace. Think walkfastersize. If you want to push your baby in a stroller, just wear regular clothing instead of the non-flattering spandex used when working out. You aren’t breaking a sweat walking at a snails pace, even if you are pushing a 15lb baby in a stroller, you know why? Cause it’s on wheels. The wheels are sweating more than you three and your “Ijusthadastroke” walk. Then to top it off, some weirdo who looks like she is on her lunch break, and who is wearing spandex in the proper context cause she’s working out comes up and passes both myself and the three strollercize ladies. The actual workout lady is doing some type of windsprints. It’s only weird cause this is on 56th between Lex & 3rd. The billboarded strollercize woman that was the trainer turns to her two clients, and whispers a joke about the woman doing windsprints. Do you strollercize people think you are actually better than someone else? Take my advice, please, just get the Tony Little Abs workout dvd. It will flatten your tummy in no time, and then actually run to the point where you break a sweat. That would actually help you lose the baby fat. Or, keep the baby fat. It can be becoming as well.

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The Shoot

Yesterday evening after I got out of work I went to the Electra Elf shoot. It was a Midtown location shoot. I rang the buzzer and found it odd that there was only one buzzer at the door when there are half dozen or so floors to the building. The buzzer had a video camera, and an intercom. The intercom had a mans muffled voice and I thought they were going to buzz me in, I waiting 30 seconds for a buzz that did not take place. I ring the bell again, and said, “Sorry I couldn’t hear you before. Are you buzzing me in or coming down to let me in?” This time the voice of a young woman answered, she said, “I’ll be down to pick you up”. A minute goes by and I saw a cute young woman coming to the glass door with piercings in her lips, and in her eyebrow, and with some bright red hair. I assume that she is the receptionist of a production company. We step into a very tiny elevator that was manually operated. I enjoy riding in those kinds of elevators, you get to see the inside of the building, and get to try and stop the elevator at the right part in the floor. Lame game I know, but it’s more exciting than just hitting the number 7 button. I step out of the elevator, and the young woman tells me to make a right and go down the hall to where the shoot is. I thank her and go on down the hall.

The hall was clean, and had a bunch of doors running along it. I looked into the first open door and saw a couple of large day beds, I saw the Mens & Womens room, and a gated off door where filming was taking place. There was also a doorway with a leather curtain blocking the view of the room inside; I thought it was a way into the big room where the filming was happening. I immediately see that it is a storage area, and locker room. In between takes I moved passed the gated off door and into a room with five or so big U shaped couches. I also looked back down the hall and saw other cute young women milling about. Even though I’ve never been inside one, my first thought was that I was inside a rub and tug massage parlor. It had the look of what I imagined one to be. I saw my buddy Rusty Nail, and went over to say hello in between takes. I said, “Hey, what kind of whore house are we in right now?” His response, “Oh, it’s a dominatrix dungeon.” I smiled, knowing that it’s a Thursday night, just after 5pm, and people are going to be coming over to this place to do their thing.

The shoot went well, but I was enjoying the atmosphere more. I heard LOUD spankings numerous times and while setting up lights for a take, there was a man screaming, “It’s my birthday!” repeatedly while being spanked. There were also the DOM girls wandering around. They went into the locker room, and had to pass through the room we were shooting in a couple of times. If I were to pass these women on the street I wouldn’t dare think that they worked in a dungeon, they looked like college students, and I even met the man who carried himself to be the owner, or at least the guy in charge of the dungeon. He looked like an Uncle John from Anytown, USA. It was endearing to know that my next door neighbor could do this for a living.

At one point, a cast member was curious on the way back from the bathroom. She took a peek into the locker room, and came back confused. She saw something that looked like a finger attachment butt plug. Huh? I’ve been at least halfway around the block with sex toys, but hadn’t ever thought of this one.

At the end of the shoot I wanted to thank the people that worked there, I only took a step past the staircase and stopped. I saw three young women standing in the doorway of what I believed to be a dungeon room, saw something was taking place in that room, and thought I shouldn’t interrupt. I ran down the wooden staircase, afraid that it would fall apart from my 145lbs of bodyweight, got outside and called “I like cheese” to laugh at the evenings events.

P.S. The northwest corner of 57th and 5th smelled extra horse shitty this morning. Just think of the joys to come with a week full of 90 plus degree weather on the way.

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The Temp Job

I had applied late for the fall semester, and doubted that any of my 38 Canadian college credits would be transferable, and didn’t want to have to deal with a full time job that would look bad on me if I walked away after less than six months. After not wanting to work, and being financially able to do so for roughly six months, I had decided that I would temp for a while due to my impending start of college. I had called the temp agency that my childhood friend had worked at that initially got me a couple of temp jobs that led to a full time boring corporate job. While my childhood friend was no longer working at the agency, they were happy to try and find me some type of temporary position.

I had a brief return interview, which was a formality of ensuring that I didn’t have a new tattoo on my face, and to fill out the tax paperwork. I had informed them that I would be returning to college, but was awaiting final word of when and where I would go to school. Not more than 20 minutes after leaving the agency office I received a phone call saying that they had a position for me. It was a one week assignment as a receptionist at some trading floor. I couldn’t bring myself to allow my mind brain be placed into such an environment let alone on the $$$ per hour they offered, so I passed on it. A couple of days later there was a position that needed to be filled, and my resume was picked from the pile that the hiring manager had received. They wanted me to work for them. Based only off of the resume that I submitted to the agency, but they actually wanted to interview me as well. Huh? I’m a temp and you want to interview me? You could get a new temp every day of the week until you find one that you like. After interviewing with four people over the course of two occasions I was hired based on what I looked like. Three of the four interviewers were flaming gay men, the last was a single workaholic woman in her 50s, who would be my manager. Since my day-to-day manager has a high profile position in the company, she apparently needed a good looking person working for her. She even said so in the interview, and based on looks alone; with a fresh haircut and in my suits I can kick most other people in their butts in a looks competition. I was hired, and with a hefty pay raise from my last job, which was full time. Woo-hoo.

If you’ve read my previous blog posts, you’ll know that this isn’t a good job for me. For those who haven’t, I’ll sum it up. I work for an evil woman, who doesn’t seem to treat people with respect during a regular day in the office. She snaps at everyone with a “GO FIND”, or “GO DO”, she works 15 hours a day, takes no vacations, has no family, she also lacks the understanding that people have plenty of other things they would rather do than work 15 hours a day with a mean person, and I think she might also be suffering from horrible case of nocockitus. So, I am leaving this temp position. I had Jury Duty on Tuesday, and returned to work yesterday.

Upon my return, my manager overly pleasant to me, she was calm in her voice, and engaging in an actual conversation, instead of her usual spider crotched vagina voice. She was congratulating me on going back to college, asked what I’d be studying, what my hours of classes were, and even offered to let me work for her on a part time basis. I can be quite mean at times, but I couldn’t be mean in this instance, so I just said, “I will give it some serious thought and get back to you”. Instead of me saying something along the lines of “hmpph, yeah right. I’m not leaving due to college, I’m leaving cause you are a nasty and evil person to work with, I hope you get struck by lightening”. I couldn’t have said that, that would have been mean. I have grown too much over the past five years to wish something really bad on someone again. Even if she was a genuinely good person, I wouldn’t be able to stay. She and whoever reports to her are moving to another building site in a few weeks. The building is a certain one that was all over the news about being a terrorist target, and has a big column instead of a bottom half of the building. It has a name, but can’t say. Anyways, I wouldn’t let myself work every day in building that could completely fall over so easily.

My agency, had something that might be good for me, they were looking into it more, while they did that. I looked out to some old pals, swallowed some pride and told them of what was going on, and if they needed any help. Half an hour later, I have a job that I can start on Monday. Can work with people that I’ve already worked with, who get along well with others, and who are all good people for the most part.

Oh yeah! I look good!

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I can be a freak about things, and my skin is weird.

This morning I really screwed up. I have a usual morning routine, and today I screwed it all up. By 9:49am I had looked at all my usual websites, blogs, etc. and spoke with “I like cheese’. Usually the websites are spread out throughout the day, but today I breezed through them all super fast for some reason, and called “I like cheese” which I usually do around 11:00am. I’m feeling a little bleh, and at the same time all antsy.

On the bright side I think my hair looks extra good today, hope fully it will look just as good later when filming some parts for the new Elektra Elf episode. Last time I had scenes was about five or six weeks ago, and had an allergic reaction to “Spirit Gum” which is a glue that is supposed to be safe for the skin, and is used in theatre. Not only did I have an allergic reaction, but also the open rash that reacted from the Spirit Gum got infected, so I walked around with a red staph infection all over my neck, ears, and scalp line. My ears were oozing from the back, and at one point my right ear was so swollen that it popped out to a 90-degree angle and I was looking like SLOTH from the Goonies. That ear dangling felt weird and weirder. Nevertheless I am looking forward to the shoot today.

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Jury Duty

Yesterday I enjoyed doing my part of our justice system by trying to get out of actually being part of the jury that would decide a man’s fate. I had been summoned to a civil court, and arrived slightly early. Just enough time to get a seat that I would own instead of sitting in between people and feel weird about it. The blonde woman who was running the show, yes it was a show, was speaking what I can only assume is her normal speech to jurors. She spoke with a repetitive up and down motioning of her head, if left to watch her any longer than I did I probably would have become quite nauseous. In between her deadening speeches she would make a phone call and laugh far too loudly and long. The only other person that I know who made such a laugh was an original staff writer of SNL, and her laugh was always assumed caused from lots of cocaine usage. Thankfully this blonde courthouse clerk did not share the same style of women’s breast support that the writer had, I wouldn’t have wanted to see her boobies dangling without support, nope not her.

The civil court only had one case that needed 12 or so jurors, but criminal court needed 30 jurors. The manic blonde clerk asked for volunteers, with the ploy of the courthouse being brand new, every, even the bathrooms. What an offer! Surprisingly three people got up, one of them was the creepy eating disorderly thin woman who sat next to me, and worked as a publicist. She had worn a backless, sleeveless dress; I swear if her spine and arms had eyes they were staring at me. For this, I was glad that she was leaving my sights. That left 27 other juror spots for criminal court. I ended up being plucked up to go for the walk over to the criminal courts. Not being soundly familiar with the courthouse area, I wasn’t fully sure where I was exactly walking, but thankfully I had that spine that stood out on the street that I followed to the new 25 story State courthouse. Immediately after passing through the security checkpoint and having to remove my belt to do so, I went for the nearest bathroom. Yes, it was new, but I don’t see how it lived up to the touting that the blonde clerk made it to be. In fact, whoever ordered the sinks would have been sent to the eastern most section of Siberia had it been built in Soviet Era Moscow. They have giant sink basins, with the smallest of sink heads that barely enter the sink basin, so you have to touch the dirty sink in order the rinse with water. Purel came in handy. The waiting room for jurors was huge, it had capacity to fit about 680 people according to fire safety signs, and it had a dozen or so 50-inch plasma screen TVs. This would have been great if they had something good on, instead of MSNBC coverage of death and carnage in India.

So, my name was called in for a jury selection. I went up to the 19th floor, to a crystal clean floor, and sat in a pew that had the same look of my mothers kitchen table. The judge was a pleasant fellow overall, and was much better in attempting to make it not feel like surgery compared to the judge I had 5 years ago. When asked if there was an emergency that would not allow my presence at a trial for a week I got up, explained my case, and was shot down and told, “that’s not excusable”. The prosecutor was way too full of smiles; every time she stood up she had on a full toothed grin with dimples. The defense attorney was a boorish man who lacked even half a smile, and further lacked good posture. The defendant was a foreign man who did not speak English, and had a court appointed interpreter on his left hand side. I assume that the defense counsel was court appointed too. I felt bad for the man on trial based on what CXB said of his court appointed attorney, which was that the attorney didn’t return his calls, or go over what he (CXB) should be done in court prior to actually being in there. The clerk next to the judge called 16 names to go sit in the jury box, thankfully I wasn’t called. I was still forced to watch the proceedings.

The proceedings when something like this, with the alleged crime itself being a mystery. In the beginning the judge said that a woman alleged that the man touched her inappropriately at knifepoint inside Prospect Park. The judge asked everyone personal questions that might pertain to giving an unfair judgment prior to the facts of the case. Both the prosecutor and defense attorneys asked similar questions over and over and over in different ways. The prosecutor referred to the alleged crime as a sexual assault, which the defense attorney objected to, the judge had informed the jury that it wasn’t sexual assault. No one officially said what the man was really charged with, and people in the jury box even said, no one has said what crimes this man is charged with specifically. From what I gathered and assumed from the lines of questions was that the man and woman went on a few dates, they were out on a date in Prospect Park, at some point a knife was allegedly pulled out, either before or after he allegedly touched her breast, and that there were no witnesses to this occurring. Based on my basic assumption the case doesn’t seem to have good legs to stand on, but I don’t know for sure, since I didn’t actually see the evidence and no one was even informed what the man is charged with.

If he did do that entire event, I’m not sure why? If he did pull a knife and touched a breast, he obviously wasn’t waiting in respect of the woman and waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to allow him the touch her. I mean they were out on a bunch of dates together already. Why didn’t hadn’t he leaned in and tried to kiss her yet, why hadn’t she leaned in for a kiss, and why hadn’t they made out to the point that they felt each other up yet? I’m not saying that he didn’t do it, I’m just finding it odd that they apparently didn’t already get to second base after a few dates, that’s all.

So, of the original 16, five people were actually placed on the jury, and then 16 more people had to get called up to the jury box. I was one of the unfortunate ones to be called. Just as I sat down the prosecutor asked to approach the bench. The prosecutor, defense attorney, and judge were talking about me. The prosecutor wanted to have me excused from the case so I could go to college next week. The judge played dumb, and had no memory of speaking with me for five minutes only three hours earlier. I was called to the bench, and the judge asked if I had college next week, and I answered yes, he said, “you’re excused from the case, not from jury duty”. I went back down to the jury pool room, and was then released from jury duty all together. I don’t have to go back for six years!

I actually wouldn’t mind sitting on a jury. I think it would be fun, and I would most likely come away from it feeling good, in that I either convicted a guilty man, or set a man free for being actually innocent, or there not being evidence that they did a crime. I just didn’t want to sit on this one, due to my starting college next week. I figured I had waited eight years to continue with conventional education, if I got delayed again, it might have continued the delay another eight years.

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GAWKER.COM

Yesterday I set in to the gawker tip line, and they printed my Larry King and his gass issues as being the possible actual reason for the gas explosion on the UES yesterday. I’m so happy!

http://gawker.com/news/top/larry-king-seen-suspiciously-close-to-gas-explosion-186141.php

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I Quit My Temp Job

I gave until Friday as my notice, and go out on jury duty tomorrow. My agency asked for an email describing what I my day-to-day functionality is, this way they don’t put another me in the place. Another me, meaning someone who would actually prefer to accomplish something from their time, and not waste it sitting around surfing the internet for 8 hours, 7 hours is fine to surf, but 8 is too much. So, below is the exact email that I wrote to my temp agency.

Alyce,

I would have to classify my day to day functionality to that of a goforboy, I close the door (as requested) to Vivian’s office when she is on the phone or having a meeting and forgets to close the door, I go and get her materials from the printer, and I scour the floor to look for someone when she needs them.

Over the course of the assignment I have utilized MS Excel for various spreadsheets, and cross checking items. I also used MS Word to create a manual for basic Administration items. I drove a couple of PowerPoint presentations. I called the helpdesk for PC issues on behalf of various people, ordered keys to the drawers and offices, put together binders, set up the laptop and projector for presentations, and walked over to the front doors to let people in to the 7th floor.
I have never set up her schedule, answered her phones with exception to the front security desk, or done anything that I would classify as a project.

Regards,

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Happier Thoughts

I was correct in that there was some type of big fire off of Madison, but it was a townhouse that blew up from a gas leak, not the tall building next door. The reports aren’t saying that anyone was killed or seriously injured, which is good. I also walked by the block on my way up to my college, I got to see all of the flashing lights, and people standing around on Park Ave & looking across at a big fire truck that blocked the view of the sidewalk – but when I crossed the street it looked like the building was flat. Four or five stories flattened to about the thickness of a car, if that. Trust me that is a happier thought, since the world doesn’t seem to be coming to an end from a gas leak.

This Weekend

Yesterday I saw the new Strangers with Candy movie at the Sunshine theater. The movie was good, and afterwards I needed to pee. If you have never been into the men’s room at the Sunshine, let me describe it. You open the door, and there are either two men standing with their junk out relieving themselves, or you see two clean yet disgusting urinals, then two sides along the back wall, with a dark handicap accessible stall. There was a guy standing at the 2nd urinal, and I went to go to the dark stall, as I passed the man, I accidentally bumped into him. I’m no pro at bathroom protocol, but I figured an apology without eye contact is probably the rule of thumb.

Me: Sorry
Dude at Urinal: It’s okay. It wasn’t out yet.

Wasn’t out yet? Way too much info for me to hear. Then I finished, washed up, and waiting for the ever so beautiful “I Like Cheese” to come out of the women’s room. I sat on a tall comfy stool, and ignored the man who I just bumped into at the stall who is awaiting his lady friend. A guy in his early 20s came running up the stairs with the look of dire need of a bathroom. He hurried over to the women’s room, went to open the door, then read the sign “WOMEN” and got all pissy about it – no pun intended. He looked around in a hurry, and could not see the men’s room sign on the other side of the wall, looked to go up another flight of steps, and saw that it was probably the roof up there, and turned around sadly and walked down the stairs. I can only hope and assume that this man wet his pants, then sat and watched some indie movie and thought he was so smart and amazing for watching it. Something like “An Inconvenient Truth”, which I will never see do to Al Gore being an idiot; which has nothing to do with the issue or debate of Global Warming.

I also went to a BBQ birthday this Saturday night. Blueberry Stoli came out last week, and that stuff is delicious. It smells great, tastes great, and will make loads taste like Blueberry, so I hear. The BBQ was in a gorgeous newly restored garden, and there were two black cats in the neighboring yard named Girby (Garden Herbie) & Kirby (Kitten Herbie), and the birthday gift was a big swing that fits three people, or two morbidly obese people. I want a big swing like that one for my backyard garden. Yes, yes I do.

The happiest news possible right now, I called my agency and informed them that Friday will be my last day on this assignment. I had informed them a few weeks about my disappointment of everything that was described of this temp job not actually taking place, and that I was day to day a goforboy. With my good standing at the agency, and my manager having a previous poor standing with the agency, it doesn’t look like any harm will be done to me. My contact at the agency said “I’ll call evil manager name and let her know that Friday is your last day, she doesn’t return calls, so on Monday she might be shocked when there isn’t anyone working for her”. For me that is perfect, I don’t need to say anything to the evil one, since that might create a bad situation, and the evil one most likely won’t return the phone call since she never returned the ones where they tried to reach out to her in order to help me out. No lost sleep for me. To top it off, due to the jury duty tomorrow, I have to get this weeks timesheet signed today, and that will most likely mean I will be Weekend BIJ tonight through whenever. Jury Duty does not scare me, and I’m actually looking forward to watching people sitting in a jury box and being annoyed that they had bad luck and were picked to sit on a jury. Ah, happier times await.

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