Orkin Blows

You know those commercials where a giant bug comes to someone's house and asks to use the phone because their car broke down, only to be chased away by the Orkin man, hard hat and all? I have some news for you.

Those are bullshit.

Orkin seems to be as effective as the justice system in L.A. county. Ever since we have started using Orkin, the bug population INSIDE my house has, at the very least, quintupled. I actually now have bugs inside that I never had before. I never had a centipede problem in my living room. Now I am sharing my couch. Food is missing. I am finding piles of perfectly rolled dung balls next to my end tables. The ants are taking baths in the shit the spray around the foundation. I swear, I think its just half and half, with a little sucrose, and larvae from the next generation of arachnid. It seems like guests for the earwig family reunion keep arriving, daily, in most rooms of the house. It's disturbing. I have called every pet store in the Tri-Cities area and no one carries anteaters. Lame. Exotic pet store my ass.

I have called Orkin and the gentleman that did such a great job the 5th time, came out to survey the problem and see how he could help. I advised him that him leaving and sending someone else would be a good start. I found out that he was the Orkin man that was assigned to my residence. Awesome. I asked where his hard hat was because he was going to need it. "Why," he asked. Well, there is a good chance that I am going to beat you to within an inch of your life with your gallon jug of worthless and put the spray nozzle....somewhere else. No hard hat. He asked me where the problem areas were. I asked him to point towards the ground. He looked down. I said again, extend your arm, extend your forefinger and point towards a fictitious spot a couple feet in front of him and then parade around the entire house, inside and out and those are my problem areas. He looked confused. I made it simple.

I went to the backyard and lifted the dog's water dish on the patio, and earwigs went scurrying for cover. He sprayed them with sugar water. I pointed to the ant trail leading from the bathroom wall to the front of the tub. He dropped some breadcrumbs and left an apple core. I asked him what the little bugs were that were scurrying away from us as I lifted my doormat up. He said he didn't know but this should help. Honey. "That should do the trick."

I envisioned some guy coming out that gave a shit that I can't sleep when I feel little legs scurrying across my body in the dark. I hate it when its movie night for the bugs in my house and I can hear applause. I don't like seeing earwigs....ever, let alone running across my keyboard when I am writing in this blog andkkfweofkvsasaklfjsdhshasxzdxzdxszdxzdszdsxz....DAMMIT! My kids can't sleep because of spiders, spiders I won't kill because when I DO kill it, I think of it being the heir to the throne, the only son, whom I have made into a one dimensional spot of goop, only to be discovered by some inferior insect and, to be spared further fear, informs the king that I have just ended the family tree. Then, the master spider, leader of millions, sends out his minions in a fit of rage, with instructions to bring me back alive so that I could be dealt with in the only way spiders know how to deal with humans. To haunt my slumber. Never heard, just seen, scurrying to the most impossible location ever, avoiding capture and death.

I hate you Orkin man.

Grow Up a Tad

I can understand that break ups suck. They do. If you are over the age of 22, there is a good chance that using Facebook as a sounding board for insults of your ex-significant other is a bad idea. Kind of like filling a big balloon full of hydrogen and throwing some loosely wired electronics in there. Big boom is not a surprise. It's not just a bad idea, it actually shows others your true colors and demonstrates qualities that, quite possibly, made the other person leave. I dunno. Just sayin.

I am speaking of someone in particular but they will remain nameless. Mostly because I don't want to show like I am picking sides. I am not. Actually, that's not true. I did pick sides, but I kept the choice to myself simply out of respect for the fallen. 100% of the time, these relationship issues require no one else's input, and when you ask for it in a public forum (I.E. a status update on Facebook) it is a senseless regression back to when you just started spewing menses and bullshit out of a couple of almost indentical orifices. Direct pressure, in both case, will stop the bleeding.

Some might say, "just don't be their friend." Well, I was de-friended already, but the settings allow for reading the posts on their wall. When I feel like I am being immature or am throwing fits at the mall, I go and read this individual's posts and I feel mature again. It isn't like this person is an idiot. They have, or at least I thought they had, a pretty good head on their shoulders. I am reminded just how wrong that observation was/is when I visit their page. To read the supporting comments that follow the vomit makes me click "HOME." It's sad really. The way in which bitterness causes a person to morph into a pile of shit right in front of your eyes.

Advice...take it, or don't. Grow up. Move on. Posting drivel and stupid pictures out of spite and looking for acceptance and approval is retarded. Go to a counselor, write in a journal. This is not a healthy way to deal with anything. It's immature and very child-like. This is something I expect from a toddler. Be bitter, but shut the fuck up about it in public. Don't celebrate an anniversary that is no longer there. Move....on. It's like lingering around a corpse wondering if maybe, just maybe, they might wake up. It's over. So act your age.

My Fellow Americans

Good evening.

I come before you tonight to discuss all that has happened over the last week in the gulf. We have had a major energy find in the Gulf of Oman.

(Mr. President, there is a large oil spill in the Gulf of MEXICO...not Oman. It is a natural disaster, not a find)

Excuse me, I have just been informed that just this past week, we have struck oil in the Gulf of Mexico. This discovery should allow over 20,000 barrels of new oil production per day. As we speak, engineers are looking to break the world record for the world's largest non-contained natural disaster. Representatives from Guiness are on sigh..

(Mr. President, this spill is not something you should be proud of. Some limey Brit is ruining are way of life. BE FIRM! Stop improvising and just read the script!)

Pardon me a moment, it seems that this is NOT a discovery, rather it is a disaster and one we plan on getting cleaned up in the next few days. My top advisers on the ground are awaiting 300,000 rolls of Bounty to begin skimming 150,000 square miles of ocean to help clean and contain this spill. Since school has been out, I have advised the education department to obtain every Sfork packet from every elementary school across this great country to help with the clean up process. This will serve two purposes. We will use the little Sfork to scoop up any and all oil we see on the surface of the water. Along with the Sfork, we will use the napkins to help clean the Penguins and whales that are getting all dirty.

(Mr. President, there are no penguins in the gulf, and there are no whales that are covered in oil. What the fuck are you reading???)

Since this disaster occurred on June 11th, we have been convening at Camp David engaging in brainstorming sessions, as well as beta testing a new MMA game for the XBOX 360. I have contacted Bill Gates to see if there is any way that Microsoft can begin developing a new game type centered around scrubbing Pelicans with Dawn. I intend to recruit the world's best gamers to help contain this oil from reaching the Horn of Africa.

(For the love of God Barack, seriously, your Presidency is at stake here. Be serious about this. That fucking Pelican photo has gone viral. It is going to end you!)

Right now B1 bombers are in route to Great Britain with instructions to find and terminate Tony Hayward's Welsh Corgi. This is meant to be a warning to him and all the inhabitants of Great Britain, as well as Iceland, that you are no longer welcome to suck the teet of the American people. We have needs and as President of this great province, I will make sure that he pays for all the damage his recklessness has caused the people of Rhode Island. Your Welsh is mine!

(Mr. President, you only have 30 seconds left. Please end this fiasco and find a way to save your legacy.)

In closing, I just want you to know that we are working hard to find the rewind button, or at least the pause button so we can get on top of this thing. I have asked James Cameron to go fishing and pick his brain about a possible solution. If he can create an entire movie about fictional blue people that live in a tree, I have no doubt that he can find away to clean up this mess.

Sic Semper Tyrranis!

B. Obama

Amazing

I went to Albertson's Express today to expressly obtain a couple of things and avoid having to go into the main store to get what I could easily acquire quickly. I like Albertson's Express for that reason. However, there was a gentleman in front of me, probably in his late 20's that, well, let's just say would not make theologians happy about having faith, rather this turd evolved....from one cell to maybe, 3, all contained within his liver to prolong the party.

He prepaid for fuel and asked the clerk to "turn on" the air machine so he could put air in his ears...err...tires. The clerk said that it costs .75 to get air. I audibly laughed because in my mind I tried to figure how much money I would owe for breathing over the last 37 years if that was, in fact, an expense needed for the air we breathe. Magellan turned and scowled at me. How dare I laugh at his predicament. How will the hoopty ever roll again? He paid for $50 worth of gas. I did the math in my head and was about ready to offer the mother of all suggestions and tell him to purchase just $49.25 in gas, and the funniest thing happened. He asked for the manager's name and the customer service number because he was CERTAINLY going to be complaining about this one. I mean, as he explained to the clerk and to anyone within an earshot, that ALLLLLLL the other gas stations in town allow for free air with every fill up, and it was ridiculous that THEYYYYYY wouldn't do that, especially since he is dropping almost $100 on gas. Again, I almost chimed in that, even with rounding he was incorrect, but he beat me to the punch with something even more asinine.

He got his receipt, taking it rather forcefully, with poor depth perception, swiping at air the first time, and the clerk kept her poise stating that he had .10 off for the price of his gas. "Pardon me," he says, somewhat smug. After explaining the rewards card incentive for cheaper gas by shopping at Albertsons, the whole incentive for the fucking program, he was floored. Not by the corporate generosity, rather that, on June 4th it was 15 cents. Very strange. As all conspiracy theorists would, he questioned the validity of this decline. Certainly...there must be a mistake. The clerk explained that the increases are in 5 cent increments and there was a good chance that one of the increments expired. OH HELL....you might as well just hit this bag of dicks with a brick. This chick, according to lite brite, was going to lose her job. Its not the last time she was going to hear from him. All of this for over, what? 75 cents plus 15 gallons (.05)...(carry the one)...$1.50? I couldn't believe it.

So as he left, all sorts of pissy, I walked up to the counter and my total was $4.10. I said, "WHATTTTTTTT?" She looked like she was about ready to explode. I told her that the proce tag said FREE and I wanted the customer service number, but laughed, only so she knew I wasn't serious. Crazy how people want so much for free, or cheaper because they have a beating heart. Would you throw a fit over saving $2? I am guessing he is behind on his tithes.

Nice RAK

I don't go to Starbucks too often. It seems ridiculous to me to spend $5 on a cup of coffee. Is it good? I don't know. It tastes like flavored coffee to me. I am not an expert in what Juan Valdez exported to this country on the back of some burro. I am guessing he had no problems bringing a large sack of beans stateside, along with some AK-47's and some stinger missiles to help finance his operation. THANK YOU BORDER PATROL! Sort of like Microsoft Works, a contradiction in terms. What are they patrolling anyway? The term alone would suggest it's bad to cross the border, yet...OK, anyway...that's another post.

The last two times I have gone there, I have paid the bill for the car behind me. I don't know why I have done that. I guess it is a positive wild hair. Maybe some day someone will do that for me, when I have kids bouncing around my car and am running from the repo man. It never adds up to much, but it is a small random act of kindness that hopefully will make someone's day. Yes, it goes against the principle of $5 coffee, which turns into $10 coffee. However, I feel better, and there might be a slight chance, like that kid on Pay It Forward (Haley Jo whatever), that someone does it for someone else. This helps avoid the "what's in it for me" mentality that is plaguing the globe. Maybe someone will stop to help the bleeding man on the sidewalk instead of watching him die. Too often decisions are made based on personal gain. At some point, it needs to stop. I'll make my contribution, albeit small, in the Starbuck's drive thru.

Even if it means $10 coffee.