Friday, July 25, 2008

Waste of Time

Work, that is. I made two dollars tonight. I made a whole four the other night. Go me, eh?

The good news is that my interview went well at the Correctional Facility. They told me they wished more people like me would apply, cause they liked my clean-cut look and my ability to have a conversation. On the flipside, they were concerned that the stress of dealing with inmates, some of them serving life sentences, would get to me since I had no family nearby. I wasn't able to explain to them that I have a very good relationship with my family, and I call them often. Oh well, no interview is perfect.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008


I take my Correctional Officer Examination in two days. I'm a little nervous because I failed the sample Texas test yesterday. Hopefully I learned from my mistakes and I'll pass the real one without breaking a sweat.

I don't have anything to say. I hit a pretty bad depression cycle the past few days, stopped exercising, stopped writing, played Metal Gear Online for about 10 hours... and ate a lot of Oreos with peanut butter. Work didn't help cause I had to sit and listen to this girl whine about her roomate and how she's so in love with this boy who just won't grow up blah blah blah, get a fricken life. I told off a girl today for being a selfish... err... what's the non-vulgar way to say twat? anyway, she's depressed, I'm trying to be nice, and she just shrugs and repeats all that bullcrap talk about how she's so in love with this guy who doesn't want to be with her. Jeez, grow up! Here I am being supportive and trying to give you advice, and you don't listen to it, and you don't even thank me for trying. Learn some damn manners and grow the eff up. Grow. The EFF. Up.

In other news, Firefox 3 is a piece of unstable crap and I'm unhappy with the creators of Ubuntu for loading it onto the install disk as default. Uninstalling and reinstalling an older version is such a pain with a Linux system (especially for a guy like me that doesn't fully understand how) and I'm tired of it not responding and having to force quit it, or it not being able to open up because it didn't quit properly and left some process running, forcing me to go into the system monitor and end the processes... etc. Anyway, I think Mozilla needs to get in gear and fix the problem and release an update. Not that I'm assuming they aren't doing what they can, I'm just a frustrated customer and appreciate their browser, but would like a few things fixed.

Speaking of poor excuses for service: Konami, get your rear in gear. If you just set up your MGO system to use the PSN network, then we wouldn't have to use your piss-poor myKonami bull on your crappy crap crap servers that can't even handle the traffic when you release ANYTHING that people will want to download. Now, I have a feeling that you did this so that you could port MGO onto the X360 and wouldn't have to set up dual servers to handle the different systems, but really, you should have been more prepared, especially if you were planning on having double the user base. If you WEREN'T planning to put MGO on the X360, then there is no excuse for not using the previously existing and STABLE PSN network for us folks that paid 60 friggen dollars for your game, expecting it to work correctly.

That said, I absolutely LOVE playing MGO when I'm on a good streak. However, knife battles make me so mad, because the inherent lag in the internet play makes it impossible to know exactly where to stab so you don't miss your enemy and you end up getting stabbed in the back when they suddenly appear behind you...

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Turn-downs and frowns upside-down

I went to the mall in Wichita the other night cause Walmart here didn't have Batman Begins in stock on Bluray. It's only a 30 minute drive, so we took off. We got to the mall, and not 20 steps through the doors, we get hounded by some foreign chick trying to sell us a fancy nail-file for 60 bucks. Well, Laurie got hounded, I just kept walking, and then they yelled at me and had me stand around and make sarcastic swipes at everything swipable. I eventually told the girl, "Hey, we'll take some of your devil cream for one date. A date with me." She laughed. "If you play your cards right, you might even get lucky."

She said, "The cream for a date?"

I said, "No way. The date for the cream!" Implying that there was no way I'd accept such a product, unless she paid me, in the form of a date. (I just want that to be clear.)

So then she said, "I have a boyfriend!"

"Can I beat him up?"

"I dunno, ask him."

"Where is he?"

She points to a guy not five feet away, listening to our whole conversation, selling the exact same lotion and nail-file crap. He waved. I said, "What'sup?"

Then I ran.

Also, today I got a call from the El Dorado Correctional Facility. They want me to come in for a test/interview on the 24th to become a jailer/correctional officer. Go me.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Double Post Sunday

Also, I have a job. I'm a waiter at a truck stop now. I'm going to call the place, "The DramaFactory!" because that's what they make there. Drama.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

For Curtis' Album

It was late evening on a slow Friday. Not a single customer for the day, so I broke out my bottle of gin early so I could get lubricated before going home to the wife and kid. That's when there was a knock on the door. Looks like my drink would have to wait. "Come in," I said, none too kindly.

That's when she walked in, mascara trailing down her face, red lipstick smeared, a slight bruise on her right cheek that was hastily covered up by some make-up. I says to myself, Curtis, I says, this is going to be one unlucky night.

I gestured for her to sit down on my tattered and faded red pleather office chair. Such an odd sight for this beauty to be in such a place. I leaned back and tapped my fingertips together. She spoke before I did, "Curtis, I need your help."

"Why? Why now, of all times?"

"It's the Baron. He's dead."

"I don't really care, hun. He ain't my concern."

"Oh, you'll take this charge, Curtis. You definitely will."

"And what makes you say that, Madeline?"

"Kylie is here."

"Kylie... It can't be."

So, the biggest man in the world right now, the self-proclaimed Oil Baron, dead, not even known to the media just yet, and Kylie, here in town. This was big, this was bad.

Before I knew it I was on the interstate in my beat-up old Chevy. Madeline gave me a key to the townhouse where the murder occurred. I was to track down the killer, restore my former glory, get a fat paycheck, and go home having accomplished something for once.

The Oil Baron had been dead for two hours by the time I reached the complex where he was killed. According to Madeline, he was stabbed in the back by Kylie right in front of her. He gave her a good smack and told her to run to the police. Instead, she came to me, knowing that the police would never get anywhere closer to finding Kylie than they had been the last few years. It felt good to be relied on again, to feel important.

Getting into the complex was easy, but I had to park a few blocks off and hop the fence. It was a very nice community, clean and bright and well-lit. Nice condos lined the parking lot. It's not exactly where I'd expect the Oil Baron to live, but I imagined it was a nice getaway from the glamour and press.

The key fit just fine, I opened the door and walked inside. There in the living room, sat the Oil Baron, bound to a chair and gagged... and very much alive.

Two guys threw me up against the wall, got their grip, then threw me to a countertop, pinning me down. Kylie appeared from the hallway.

"Curtis, Curtis, Curtis..."

"Kylie!" I said through grinding teeth.

"It's good to see you again."

"Too bad I can't say the same for you."

"Ah, I imagined you'd respond in such a way. How have you been? What's been going on in the last 3 or 4 years?"

"You know damn well what's been going on. My life has been ruined because of you!"

"Oh please. Basing your life on your repuatation is so... juvenile. Let it go. You're what? Pushing 50? Let it go! By the way you look, I don't think you'll even see retirement."

"I won't see retirement at all. My pension was revoked after I shot her and you got away."

"I'll say, New York is a good place to disappear in, if you know the right channels."

"You're nothing but a coward, Kylie."

"Oh stop. I don't have time for this back and forth nonsense. You didn't have to pursue me, you didn't have to pull the trigger. You are dealing with your own karma, Curtis. Deal with it."

Kylie pulled out a snub-nosed revolver. MY snub-nosed revolver, a .38 Special. He must have gotten it from my house somehow. I scolded myself silently for forgetting to get it before coming here.

"You killed one innocent person with this gun, Curtis. At least the next person who dies will deserve it."

With that, he turned and shot the Oil Baron five times. He walked over to me and put the gun in my unwilling hand, effectively fingerprinting me.

"I'm sure this will look great on your resume. Private Eye Curtis, the Oil Baron murderer. It's a bit of a mouthful really, but the news will eat it up."

Kylie flipped open a cell phone and dialed 911. He calmly explained that he heard gunshots here and verified that a police officer had been dispatched. With that, he handcuffed me, untied the Oil Baron, and walked out the door, taking the gun with him.

I had been set up. But why? I no longer held the sway and power I once did. What could anyone possibly gain from this? No matter, I had to think fast. There was no way I could get the handcuffs off on my own. I couldn't go back to my wife. Maybe, just maybe, I could see my old friend Jimmy.

I had made up my mind before the thought even crossed it. He was my only hope. He was the only person that stuck by my side after my career went out of control. I could depend on him more than anyone.

I continued to think about him and all of our good times we had together as I made my way to his home. I had to sneak onto the subway, doing my best to hide the handcuffs, then I had quite a walk ahead of me. In fact, I didn't make it to his house until after midnight.

Luckily, he was awake when I approached his home. I knocked and waited. He opened the door, and stared coldly.

"What the hell are you doing here, Curtis?"

"I need your help, Jimmy. You're the only dependable person I have."

"Dependable, shoot, I should arrest you right now. You know the entire police force is after you right now?"

"Why aren't you out looking for me?"

"I'm on vacation. They called me first, thinking I'd know where you were. Told 'em I hadn't seen you in months."

"Look, let me in. I'll tell you what happened."

Jimmy, hesitated, looked me in the eyes, trying to determine if I could be trusted. He must have figured I'd be harmless when I lifted up my handcuffed wrists to show him that things were deeper than he imagined.

We sat at the kitchen table while I related the story of Madeline and the Oil Baron, the mysterious appearance of Kylie, and this whole setup. Meanwhile, Jimmy unlocked the handcuffs with a spare key he had. I finished my tale and rubbed my sore wrists.

"I think you need to skip town for awhile, Curtis," he said, after a moment.

"I can't leave town. That'll just dig me deeper into a hole."

"Well, I dunno. If you leave town for a few weeks, maybe I can scrounge up something to clear your name. Let things cool down. As soon as this hits the media you are screwed."

"What about Kylie? I can't just let him get away with this. He tried to frame me!"

"If you go after him, he'll kill you himself. Best to take off."

"After all he's put me through it would be the least he could do. Can I have a drink."

Jimmy obliged me, poured me a glass of gin. I wandered to the TV set, turned it on just in time to see my name flash all over the screen with the headline, "Oil Baron Shot Dead" plastered all over.

"Where do you think Kylie is?" I asked Jimmy.

"How should I know? He's been at-large ever since--"

"Yeah, I'm aware," I said sharply. "But why go through the trouble to frame ME? It just doesn't make much sense. Where would he be and how would he be getting anything out of this?"

"Must be something to do with oil, I imagine. Why else would he want the Oil Baron dead?"

"The latest on the Oil Baron's agenda was attempting to break the world record in oil shipments this year. We are waiting for a statement by the Chairman of the Board..."

"Heh, maybe Kylie is overseeing shipments of crude," Jimmy joked. Unfortunately, he probably didn't expect me to take him seriously.

"That's precisely what he's doing! He's doing something with the oil!"

"Whoa whoa, Curtis. Where did you get that? For all we know, Kylie is half-way around the world. What would he want with a shipment of oil?"

"I don't know. To sell it? To use it? Kylie is a criminal mastermind, Jimmy. There's no telling what he's up to."

"You're losing it, Curt." He flipped open his wallet, handing me a Benjamin. "Here, take this, hop on a bus, get out of town, go get out of the public eye. I'll look into what's going on, I'll get in contact with you. It won't be long before the force comes back here to question me again."

I wasn't particularly in the mood to argue, so I finished my drink and grabbed my jacket on the way out.

"I'll see you around, Curtis. Take care of yourself."

I waved to Jimmy, but I had no intention of leaving town.

I feigned walking down the street, but turned back as soon as I was sure he wouldn't see me. He parked his car in the back yard, usually, so I hopped the fence. Jimmy didn't normally lock his doors when at home, and he always kept a gun hidden somewhere inside.

I snuck around back to find a rather fancy Hummer parked back there. He upgraded since I last saw him. Must have gotten a promotion.

Sure enough, there was a Glock tucked away under the passenger seat, complete with fancy sights and a high capacity magazine. I stuck it in the back of my pants to conceal it, and quietly made my way out of sight, and on to the subway. I was going to the docks to check out this oil shipment.

On the way, I bought myself some doubleshot coffee and some candy. I was going to need all the energy I could muster to sneak in there and remain alert. It was 2:35 AM by the time I found the behemoth oil tanker, resting peacefully in the water.

That is to say, the oil tanker itself was resting peacefully, but everything around it was ablaze with action. Machines and people were working tirelessly doing whatever it is that is done to an oil tanker that is trying to break a world-record for intercontinental shipments.

There was plenty to hide in and behind as I made my way to a foreman's trailer parked nearby. As I neared, I heard voices inside speaking heatedly. There was something about things being late, and another person was sheepishly apologizing. It was definitely Kylie and some peon of his.

I made my way towards the door, only one thought on my mind. To get my reputation back by arresting Kylie.

Just then, I saw headlights and heard the roar of an engine approach, rather than risk being spotted, I ducked out of sight behind some barrels. The vehicle stopped nearby and two people got out of the car and went inside the trailer.

"Madeline. Welcome back," Kylie said. A pause, as if they kissed, and then, "Jim, what's the news?"


"I told him to get out of town, but I doubt he'll leave. If he does, it won't be long before he's tracked down."

"His family?"

"Dead. If all goes well, it'll look like he just snapped and killed his fam, then went on to the biggest target he could find. Considering his record, it won't be too hard to believe."

"I don't necessarily like your methods, Jim, but at least you get things done."

"Hmph, just keep up your end of the bargain."

"Yeah, sure thing."

I stood, dumbfounded, at what I'd just heard. My family? My only friend? I was speechless, my mind was blank, I felt nothing and everything at the same time. I sat down pulled the gun out from behind me, and just stared.

What else was I supposed to do? Get angry? Go on a murderous rampage to redeem myself? All I wanted to do right then was kill myself. I check to make sure a bullet was in the chamber, I looked right down the barrel, looked right at my distorted copper reflection.

"How long until we're ready?" I heard Jimmy ask.

"You mean, how long until you get your money?"

"Whatever. How long?"

"There's been a delay. It'll be after morning, hopefully before noon before we get things shipped out and ready."

"Fine. I'm going out for a smoke."

Jimmy stepped out and sat on a crate. Without really thinking, I turned and fixed the sights on the back of his head.

"So what are you getting out of this?" I asked him. Startled, he turned to me, dropping his cigarette and lighter on the ground.

"Jeez, Curtis, what are you doing here? I told you to get out of town!"

"Don't act like you care about my well-being. You helped Kylie set me up. You killed--"

"Shhh! Shutup you idiot!" Jimmy lowered his voice, but I raised mine.

"You think I'm an idiot!? Have you EVER had any respect for me? How could you do this to me?"

"Curtis! I didn't kill--" His voice was cut short when his face exploded. Kylie and Madeline stood at the doorway of the trailer.

"I knew I couldn't trust that fool." Kylie said as he holstered his gun.

"Start talking!" I said to Kylie, hand steady, trigger half-pulled.

"Well, let's see. Madeline convinced the Oil Baron to write her into the will to have ownership of the oil that was found in Iraq last year. With that, her and I are going to sell all of this oil at a ridiculously low price, forcing the company into bankruptcy, which will cause a huge uproar among the economy, spelling bad omen for the oil business. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"I'm going to arrest you Kylie."

"No, you aren't. YOU will go to jail for murder, which should have happened a long time ago."

"I didn't murder anyone!"

"I counted about 300."


"And you didn't order the evacuation, knowing full-well that the bomb would go off when the timer ran out!"

"That's no excuse."

"There's no excuse for killing hostages to get to me either."


"What the hell was going through your mind? People take hostages so the police WON'T fire. You shot the poor woman six times trying to hit me!"

"It was an... accident."

"You're the sick one, Curtis. You have NO control over your emotions. You were blinded by rage. You are nothing more than an insignificant, instinctual animal. It's people like you that are murderer's on the street, but since you had a fancy police badge your killings were for 'justice' and 'order.' But look at you! You're worthless!"


"You are, and you have SERIOUS identity issues. It's who you are, Curtis."


"You have no idea what you are doing."


"You're life is over, or WAS, I should s--"


I shot him in the knee. He fell down, Madeline, started crying. I grabbed my handcuffs from my back pocket. This was going down my way.

"No, seriously, Curtis. Take a look around real quick."

I didn't intend to listen to him, but out of reflex I glanced to my side, then made a double-take. I was surrounded.

"You see," Kylie said as he tried to stand, "Not only was this a huge shipment of crude oil, but it was also one of the biggest weapons caches ever smuggled into the country. Once the economy crashes, I'm going to lead the biggest armed rebellion the world has seen in modern time. People will be begging to be part of a new order that won't shit on them every chance it gets. At the very least, no one will try to stop me.

"I'm not all bad, Curtis. I didn't want to kill those kids, I didn't want those hostages to die. I'm a bit of sadist, but I like to see people pull through adversity. Why didn't I do more to make sure you were arrested tonight? Why did I just handcuff you and leave? Why did I use YOU as a scapegoat? Maybe a part of me wanted to be stopped. Maybe I just wanted to see how far I could take a person before they crack. Interesting how things turned out, isn't it?

"Now, Private Investigator Curtis: Are you going to go home to your wife and daughter, whom I imagine are not dead, or are you going to keep trying in vain, to stop me, and die right here, in front of me?"

I thought for a moment. What would be the most tangible accomplishment of my life? A happy family, or stopping a terrorist?

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Do not read if you are sensitive to harsh language.

I moved to Kansas 3 months ago. I have applied at maybe 11 or 12 places and haven't even gotten an interview (or a follow-up call, or even a "sorry, we don't find you hire-able. Go away," call.) Ever so slowly, I've been running out of money. I sold my Wii, and with those funds, I got a local bank account. I made a car payment with my new checking account. I'm waiting on my economic stimulus package (I got the two letters that say, "Congratulations! Read this waste of paper and then spend the money!") which should have come this past week, but did not.

Anyway, so, my old bank account is defunct because the nearest office that I can make a deposit is about 900 miles away. I tried to buy groceries tonight because we are low on food here and I'm way overdue for contributing. Walmart doesn't take Temp checks, the kind the bank gives you before your personalized ones arrive in the mail. The amount of sheer bullshit that this constitutes is flabberghasting.

1.) Walmart gives you the check back when you pay with it.
2.) I have several forms of ID and a matching signature to go with them. Businesses only care about the routing number and the check number and matching signatures.
3.) The dude at the counter refused to discuss it further.
4.) I had to pay with a maxed out credit card. I thought I had 30 some-odd dollars left, and I had another 10 that I could transfer over to hopefully avoid the overdraft fee.
5.) Nope. I had 9 dollars left on the credit card, and 9 dollars left in checking. I can't even make a goddamn deposit because I don't have enough money for goddamn gas to the nearest goddamn Wells Fargo to pay for my goddamn overdraft fee cause Walmart is too goddamn prissy to take a check for $34.16 because they want to be so goddamn sure that I didn't steal that goddamn book of checks to help me goddamn fucking eat this week.
6.) Now I'm forced to ask my parents to make a deposit for me so I can pay for groceries which have suddenly doubled in value. ($35 overdraft fee)

So in conclusion, Fuck Walmart, Fuck banks, Fuck temp checks, Fuck Wells Fargo, Fuck the dude at the register, Fuck my fucking inability to get a fucking job, Fuck Alltell for fucking up my fucking address so I didn't get a fucking bill on time so I could get my fucking rebate on my fucking uncustomizeable phone that cost me one hundred fucking dollars so I could have a means of fucking contact for fucking Applebees to give me a fucking call on Monday, June 30th to let me know if there was a fucking available position and then not fucking calling me about the fucking job cause he's a fucking liar and I'm a fucking overexaggerating fuck and I don't even fucking know if he meant the 30th or the 7th but I'm reaching for things to be fucking pissed off about right now because... fuck.

(Lora, if you read this far, I'm sorry if it made your eyeballs bleed.)

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Poetry for Parents Part 2

Dad, we should go shooting
because it's really fun
In fact, we COULD go tomorrow
If I were on the run.

You see, I'm pretty bored here
without a job to speak of
All I do is sit around
and think of rhymes.

I know I kind of used that joke before
It is probably not so funny
What can I say? no creativity.
At least the sun is sunny.

I'll go out soon
maybe get some exercise
Ah who am I kidding?
I can't fill you with my lies.

There is however a dance in town
Maybe I'll make a friend
That would be really great
good news for me to send.

Well you better get packing
the house for you to move
It's just a matter of getting started
getting yourself in the groove

If you hurry up now
you could have the place clean
before winter sets in
heaven forbid in the spring.

I guess I'll leave you alone now
reading poetry isn't your thing
Maybe I'll grab my microphone
and sing sing sing sing sing.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Poetry for the Parents Part. 1

For Mom-

Momma, life has just begun
for your slightly crazy son
I doubt you'll read these lines
once I ask you to pay my fines

You're finally moving from that barren wasteland
Into some kind of obligatorily rhyming dry-land
Even though that wasn't technically a rhyme
I simply will not suffer rhyme-time.

St. George, here Mom comes
to kick it's ass and finally live in a place with nice weather, (Tums)
I'm sure you'll love it, until the summer
Then you'll probably say, "Oh Bummer!"

I can picture you saying that with a ridiculous smile on your face
and if I'm lucky, you'll do it while reading this case
I can't think of a way to finish this stanza
But I do have a rhyme from Seinfeld, Castanza.

So Mom, you gave me psoriasis, but that is okay.
I put you through 24 hours of goddamn labor and then you had to deliver a 9-Plus pound
baby which is just ridiculous if you think about it and my current size and how completely
disproportional that ratio is. I mean, I'm underweight now but then I was fricken HUGE.
Now what rhymes with okay?

Anyway, I've gotten off-topic
You're probably just a little stoic
I hope you have a grande ole day
Stop thinking that your eldest son is gay!