Apr 25

Stress sucks.

Stress causes high blood pressure, headaches, twitches in a body’s limbs, facial tics, premature balding, premature ejaculation, erectile dysfunction, world hunger, saggy boobies, Tourette syndrome (which is, in my humble opinion, is the coolest of all the syndromes… son of a b#$@*, mother %$@!*&^ bas#$rd, %*&# sucking @$$ licker!) and, I believe, the gout.

Stress sucks.

Now I am going to share with you my tried and true methodology for surviving, and even defeating, stress:  uh, and now come the words of calming inspiration that will lead so many of you to a higher level of satisfaction with your lives.  This is the part where I share the sure-fired method of stress relief that have made my abilities to deal with stress legendary.  Here it comes… are you ready?  Are you ready to completely change your life and eliminate the stress that plagues your every move?  Well? Are you?

Yeah, so am I.  sigh ( meek sigh of hopelessness).

Ok, so I don’t have an answer to the question of stress.  In fact, I am probably the last person on the planet who would hold any sort of credentials in the field of stress-relief.  Stress wears on me like one of Rosie O’Donnell’s chins… completely worthless and grosser than snot on a sneeze guard at the all-you-can-eat buffet.

sigh

When stress attacks me, I turn into a gelatinous glob of goo: weak at every joint with muscles resembling over-cooked pasta.  My mind converts from semi-functional to a position of complete worthlessness… and my vocabulary resembles that of a Tourette’s victim in full dysfunction-mode.  Stress renders me almost completely unusable.   I know that certain people thrive under stress… I am not one of these people (crap, I don’t think I am worthy of cleaning dog poop off the bottom of these people’s shoes when stress attacks).

I have a coworker who seems to have stress all figured out.  He says he can control his stress-level with breathing techniques.  He also speaks of positive and negative energies and some sort of life-force that connects us to the earth by means of our groin areas.  All of this aside, he also does not eat meat, which he feels better keeps his alkalinity level on the appropriate path to… uh… enlightenment, or something.  Ok, so I don’t have anyone at work I can turn to.

I know that nothing is too big for God, and if I just turn it all over to Him, life will be much better.  So, will God speak to the next pissed-off customer that I have to deal with?  Will God make things that are completely out of my control somehow suddenly become under my control?  Of course God won’t do this.  I believe God is trying to teach me patience and perseverance… two things that stress the crap out of me.

Ok, so how I deal with stress is by hitting stuff.  I get stressed out and I hit stuff… and the more stressed out I am the harder I hit.  There is still a dent in the refrigerator door in the break room at Alltel that I believe I fractured a knuckle creating.  I am not proud of this dent (ok, maybe a little proud :) )  I got a little stressed at work this past Friday and I ended up punching my desk… my solid-wood desk.  The desk is fine; one of my knuckles is still bleeding a little bit.  This behavior cannot be healthy, and I am constantly getting on my kids for dealing with stress in an aggressive manner… but, man, when you get that little bit of pain-thing going when you are all stressed-out… your mind clears just a little bit.  Your focus comes into a bit more of… well… focus.

I think every employer should be required to install a punching bag in a discreet location at every place of employment in America.  You have to deal with a screaming customer… take ten and tackle the bag.  You find out that something is broken that you cannot fix… and you are going to have to pass this information along to people who rely on your service for not only their entertainment but, in certain instances, their livelihood… take five and work it out on the bag.

I have tried to talk my wife into moving the family to Alaska.  You know, a little shack up in the wild.  We’ll trap critters and sell the furs for cash to buy the basics… such as fruit and vegetables, flour, medicine, and toilet paper.  I’ll kill all the meat we need.  We can home-school the boys and we will hardly ever have to deal with another person on this entire planet other than those we have selected to spend our lives with.  We will have little… but that won’t matter because we won’t have the TV screaming at us what we need to own to be important.  The grass will never seem greener… because there will be no neighbors.  We will have the basics, we will have the adventure associated with living on our own in the middle of the majestic nothingness and beauty of the untamed wilderness, and we will have each other.  Stress would be almost non-existent.  But… my wife kind of likes electricity.  Damn electricity!

Ok, I am pretty sure that I will never have control over the stress in my life.  I am pretty sure there is a heart-attack in my not-too-distant future.  There may not be hope for me… but I think I may have discovered a methodology for surviving, and even defeating, stress:

Hit stuff… hard!  And, if that doesn’t work, move the family to a shack in Alaska.

Good luck!

Apr 18

Why do I do this?  Why do I blog… or, even better yet, why do I write at all?  I do not feel naturally talented in the area of writing, nor entertaining… nor much of anything I actually enjoy.  I do, however, love to write.

I also love to laugh, and I wish I could laugh more often.  Few things make me laugh anymore.  My boys make me laugh… with their innocent comments and their grand expectations… and their silliness.  My wife makes me laugh when she tells me how goofy the boys were at this or how I would have loved to see that… my wife makes me laugh:)  Did I mention that I love to laugh?

So, why do I do this? 

I write to entertain.  I have no false hope that what I write will enrich lives or fulfill destinies… I’m not a fool.  I do think, however, from time-to-time, I can write something that someone, somewhere may find slightly amusing; that is what this is all about.  When I can write something that makes someone else think or, especially, laugh, I’ve accomplished my goal.  When I write something and it makes me chuckle, I have every hope that at least one other soul will find it amusing… even if that soul is someone I have never met.  Perhaps someday, that soul I’ve touched and I will meet and have a good belly-laugh about how much Nebraska sucks… or how much turning 40 bites… or how retarded half of the people on food stamps are…… or how great it is having a family that you could not live without.

My wife didn’t marry me for my wealth; when we met, I was broke.  If the status of my wealth had mimicked the status of my waistline, my wife and I would now be rolling in dough… but we’re not… and I’m fat.  Sigh.  My wife also did not marry me for my looks… I can make a dog howl just by sticking my face in his.  Sigh.  My wife stands firmly by my side, however, so I can bear the burden of whatever life throws my way.  I don’t know what my wife saw in me when she agreed to spend her life with me, but I’m glad she saw what she did, and I feel an unusual commitment to live-up to whatever expectations she may have (or have had.)  She saw something, and I write in hopes of finding what she saw… and unleashing it. 

I write because writing words that someone else reads makes me feel alive.  If I didn’t feel alive, I’d most likely feel… uh, I guess, dead?!?  I write because I don’t want to feel dead.  Who wants to feel dead?  I hope someone enjoys it :)

Apr 04

I just wanted to take a few minutes to wish each and every one of you a happy Easter!  This is a day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it:)

I spend a lot of time on this blog bitching about, well, life in general.  Griping and complaining are fun for me, and I hope some of you get a chuckle or two out of reading my rants.  However, I never honestly want anyone to come to the conclusion that I am not thankful for all God has given me.  The greatest gift I have received from God is remembered on the holiday weekend  that is just now coming to a conclusion.  God sent His only only begotten Son so that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but shall have eternal life.  This in and of itself is a great thing and is what we celebrate on Christmas.  The greater gift is the sacrifice that was made for all of us on Good Friday and the glory that is the Resurrection.

Christians take a lot of heat for all kinds of crap: being hypocrites, being sinners, looking down on non-believers, trying to push our point of view on others, etc., etc, etc.  Yep, we do all of these things because we are all human and all full of sin.

Being hypocrites and looking down on others are not justified in any way shape or form.  Christians who judge others need to take a little look in the mirror and realize that all sin is equal in the eyes of the Lord.  We shouldn’t be casting any stones.

When a Christian takes the time to tell you about the saving grace of Jesus Christ, they are doing it because they love you and they want you to find salvation.  It is our responsibility as Christians to inform non-believers of the joy of Christ… and that is where our responsibility ends.  From that point forward, God is in control.  If you want to chastise Christians for their evangelism, go ahead.  We can take it.  We want as many of our friends, family, neighbors, and even that nice guy who works down at the Loaf n’ Jug, to spend eternity with us in the glory of God’s love.  We aren’t trying to convert you to gain points with God.  Nothing we do, and I mean NOTHING, can save a soul other than the sacrifice of the Blood of the Lamb.  You don’t want us to “push” our beliefs on you… and we don’t want to see you spend an eternity in hell.

And, yes, we do disregard other religions.  Ours is not a faith that says it’s okay to let others believe what they will and we should all just get along.  “Live and let live” is not our creed.  This being said, a true Christian does not hate a Muslim, because a Muslim is also a child of God.  A true Christian does not hate a Buddhist.  A true Christian does not hate a doctor who performs abortions.  A true Christian loves all of these people, and a true Christian sees it as his or her responsibility to spread the Word of God to even those whose beliefs are different from our own.

I hope each and every one of you are close to ones you love today and are finding a day filled with peace and joy.  Well, I gotta go… apparently I have to mash the stinking potatoes.

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Apr 02

You are dealing with a customer-service-type-situation.  The person you are dealing with is asking you for things that are above and beyond not only what the rules and regulations of the company which employs you dictate as acceptable; the things this person is asking of you are beyond what a normal person would expect.

“Do you know who I am?”

Or better yet, “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”

Of course, if you have heard one of these phrases  or something similar, the first thing that popped into your mind is probably pretty much the same thing that pops into my mind:

“Uh, yeah, apparently you’re a jackass!”

Of course, you don’t say this.  You try to explain why what the moron is asking for is unreasonable and, after talking down to you in more ways than you ever imagined possible, he or she ends up tromping off in a huff (or hanging up if on the phone).  They then work their way up the chain-of-command above your head until, 99% of the time, they get what they wanted in the first place.  Would have been kind of nice if you were given the power to grant their request, but you weren’t; so you will always be the peon who “didn’t know who they were.”

People who throw out the “do you know who I am” spiel should all lose their ability to speak… immediately; this is my wish.  Just the fact that someone would use this phrase shows that he thinks he is more valuable to society than you are.  Wow, who doesn’t like to be talked down to?  Who doesn’t like some arrogant jackass making demands and belittling you in the process?  The thing is, these jerks often complain loud enough and hard enough that they get what they want, which only reinforces their unbearable behavior.  These jerks have had “the customer is always right” driven into their heads for so long that they actually believe  this “rule” is the gospel in each and every situation they come across in life.  The fact that these morons have a position which they perceive as power-filled does not help the situation.

I live in rural America.  The snobalicious people I am referring to in rural America usually hold some sort of political office.  Small town mayors are notorious for being butt monkeys.  Small town mayors make almost no money by means of their office, so they apparently think they need to get lots of “perks” from businesses that serve their community.  It’s kind of like the mayor of Littletown, WY.  Now, Littletown has a population of about 8 people, and for some reason they have a mayor.  The mayor probably makes around $7.28/year for being mayor.  The mayor also happens to raise (and smoke) meth (bet ya didn’t know meth could be grown, huh?  Well in Nebraska and Wyoming, meth grows on the prairies like stink grows in Rosie O’Donnell’s armpits.)  So, Mayor Littletown calls you up ’cause he buys a service from your company and he has a perception that something isn’t right.  Let’s say it’s satellite TV.

Littletown:  My TV ain’t workin’!

You:  What seems to be the problem?

Littletown:  My kid chucked his baseball through the front of the TV and now it ain’t workin’.

You:  Uh… what does that have to do with your satellite?

Littletown:  Look, I pay you guys for service every month and I want something done!

You:  But, Sir, we just provide your satellite.  We don’t have anything to do with your kid throwing a ball through your TV…

Littletown:  DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO?  I’M THE MAYOR OF LITTLETOWN AND I HAVE A LOT OF INFLUENCE IN THIS COMMUNITY!  YOU WILL FIX THIS OR YOUR COMPANY WILL BE DONE IN LITTLETOWN!

Ok, so the Mayor Littletown has a lot of influence… over 7 other semi-inbred rednecks (who are also the mayor’s best customers for his meth crops).  Being the mayor of a community of 8 people does not mean that you were elected due to your impressive electoral campaign or your innate ability to reduce deficit and balance a budget.  Being the mayor in a community like Littletown means… uh… it was your turn.  Next term, your neighbor Jedidiah with the rotted front teeth and the constant tweaks gets his turn.

In rural America, it doesn’t usually seem to be the successful business people who are the butt monkeys (although there is a cafe owner in small town Wyoming that I would like to punt for a field goal.)  Most rural American butt monkeys are usually paid with taxpayer money or “volunteer” to help the community: city council people, county commissioners, school board members, school administrators, city management, community development leaders, etc,etc,etc…

I’m not saying that all people in these positions are butt monkeys; I’m saying that a large percentage of the particular type of butt monkey which I am discussing (the “do you know who I am” butt monkey) can be found in one of the aforementioned positions.

You may wonder why I refer to people who I have issues with as “butt monkeys”.  Well, it’s funny :)   Just the mental image that “butt monkey” conjures gets me giggling.  You know, little monkeys… in your butt… peeking out every once in awhile and annoying the CRAP out of you (figuratively… or not…)

We the people, in order to form a more perfect union, need to destroy all butt monkeys!  Whose with me?  C’mon, let’s grab our butt-monkey guns and bag us some butt monkeys… wait, that would take effort… ok, lets just agree to make a crapload of fun of all butt monkeys.  Agreed?  And small town butt monkeys need to realize that they are butt monkeys and that they annoy the crap out of most normal people.  So, if you know a butt monkey, make sure to slap them every time the butt-monkiness comes through.   I think I’ve even come up with a slogan for the new anti-butt monkey campaign:

Give “spanking the monkey” a new meaning – slap the crap out of a butt monkey today!

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