I am Offended?
I love Slayer (with album titles like Hell Awaits, Reign In Blood, Seasons In The Abyss, and God Hates Us All, how could I not?) But, when someone takes slayer and makes classical music out of it, boy do I get offended.

Thanks, String Quartet. Thanks a lot. Bring Slayer to the cultured masses. There’s something just wrong about a classical song called “Dead Skin Mask.”

Ew.

I am an Idiot?
Today at work, human resources requested confirmation of my salary. When I saw the number that they gave me, I thought that the number was about 7 thousand too low. After a little checking, I confirmed that HR was right and that I don’t make nearly as much as I had thought.

Dear bosses,

Just mentioning numbers randomly instead of giving me a raise may keep me in your employ, as I will somehow convince myself that I make whatever I feel like. The odds of me confirming my assumptions are close to nil.

I am an idiot.

I am Nice?
when we walked into Stars for breakfast this weekend, the host made a small wager with us. Holding a paper napkin and aiming for a trash can he said, “I’ll tell you what: If I make this shot, I’ll seat you now. If I don’t…No wait. If I make this shot, you have to get me a coffee. If I miss, you can forget about the coffee.”

Noting that both sides of a wager should benefit those wagering in an opposite fashion, I thought the bet was a little skewed and useless, but took it by default, simply by not offering any resistance.

He missed anyway.

When he seated us, I thought of the coffee shops within a short distance and asked him if he had won, would he be drinking Dunkin’ Donuts or Mary Lou’s coffee. “Actually,” he said, “I’m a little bit of a coffee snob. I only drink Starbucks.” He then returned to the front.

Even though Starbucks was out of the way for where we were going, I knew I was going to get him a coffee and drop it off just for the hell of it. So, when we left, I headed for Starbucks. I haven’t been in a Starbucks in a while, and let me tell you, Starbucks is chock full of people that I not only knew I could shake down for their coffee money, but their stupid black wire glasses and bad, expensive haircuts made me really, really want to. When the guy behind the counter accepted “medium” from me without using, or making me use the word “grande,” I was placated enough to forget my rising urge to kill. He must’ve sensed my dilemma, and known that there is no way to recoup an ounce of masculinity while ordering a normally macho black coffee if you have to say “grande,” “machiado,” or “touch my fanny, stud.” None. And if a man can’t feel macho, he, by code, is nearly required to lash out at others. Touche, Starbucks man. Touche.

On the way back to Stars, even the bump that put the first splash of coffee on the my new seats elicited nothing above a dull “Fuuuuuuck” from me (at least it was for a good cause, right?). Anyway, when we got there, I made the GF go in and drop off the coffee, so she is the only one who got to see that confused and happy expression that people make when they are the target of a random act of kindness.

She said it was pretty cool.

Posted in #1GF!, Music, Work