It's on like Donkey Kong Bitch.

So after much ballyhoo and water cooler talk, I decided to go strait to the horses mouth and find out if I could still go see my English supplier in Manchester. There’s nothing like getting your information from a reliable source.

So I’ve gotten the OK from the next level, all I have to do is write up an itinerary, and it will get run up the flag pole to see if it’s cool. I think it will be. You just need to appease to what they want to hear, and that’s how much money you’ve already saved, and how much money you’re going to save in the future.

Man I was pissed when I thought I wasn’t going to get to go. Much relief now… all the naysayers are the ones who are wrong now. The dudes I’m going with seem pretty cool too. Should be educational and fun. Just have to make sure I don’t get blown up in London.

My parents are en-route to Peoria. I don’t know what I’m going to do with them for four days. Peoria isn’t that interesting. I am excited that they’re going to see me play hockey. I was a nerd and a geek in high school, so the last time I participated in a sporting event that they saw was back in 8th grade. My dad played a lot of baseball and football in high school. I always felt like I was disappointing him since I never was any good at sports. He was happy I was super smart, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded it if I would have been good at some sport. Anyway, I’ll get to showcase my hockey talent. Not that I’m very good, but I’m a pretty good “C League” player, and no one can tell me that I can’t skate.

I got scared I was going to be a father today. A buddy and I are reviving some old drinking traditions we had when he was single and my wife was in California for the summer. It’s a lot of fun, and I’m willing to bet it will stop when I have the child. As I thought about it though, it doesn’t bother me. I’d rather have a son or a daughter than a drinking habit.

I’ve been on a Marilyn Manson kick at the end of this week. I’ve been listening to Antichrist Superstar, HollyWood, and Mechanical Animals. They’re really good albums. Each one is very unique sounding, and they all kick ass.

Pure Gonzo

Well I’ve made it to the top of Google. If you type in Pure Gonzo Engineering, the number one hit is my blog. Whatever that means, I don’t really know. I don’t know why anyone would possibly want to search google for Pure Gonzo Engineering, but if they do, I’ll be number one.

David Bowie makes me think that there is a God.

Not many things in this life convince me that God actually exists. In fact, most things in this life convince me of the contrary. Like last night I was watching a show on discovery health about Fetus in Fetu or when a twin goes wrong and one of the twins is absorbed by the other and forms a parasitic relationship with the healthy twin. An 8-year-old boy in Russia had nerf football size Fetus in Fetu removed from him that had hair and humanoid appendages. It was fucking gross.

But as I sit here listening to the Best of David Bowie, I feel heartened that there is in fact a supreme being watching over us all. There’s something about the structure, harmony, and lyrics that just gives me a good feeling about life and everything else. Normally I listen to metal or something hard, but sometimes some good old fashion rock and roll is just what you need.

I’m past the honeymoon period at work. It’s beginning to bore me. I can’t stand almost everyone at work. I feel undervalued, and taken advantage of. I need to work on my tattoo machine and get it to work. Get out of here and start selling it worldwide. Go from tattoo convention to tattoo convention making my living. Not be anyone’s bitch anymore.

Change in the House of Flies

God Damn, that’s a good title to my post. It’s metaphoric, it’s realistic, and it’s got some pop culture in it. Damn I’m good.

Anyway, my house seems to have a large number of houseflies in it. I’ve been trying to diagnose the problem while killing about 8-10 flies every few days. It’s strange; there were a bunch on Thursday, none on Friday or Saturday, and then a bunch on Sunday. I don’t really understand this behavior.

What I think is brining the bastards in is this: We had an issue with carpenter ants when we first moved in, so I called Terminex and had them spray for them. There spray kills all legged insects. This includes spiders, much to my wife’s happiness. However, spiders kill flies. Thus flies have wings and are not killed by the poison, and they have no natural enemies to kill them. Thus I become their natural enemy and must kill them.

The second cause of the flies I believe is the dog shit that has been accumulating in my back yard from my dog for the last 5 weeks. Yes, I’m fucking lazy. My backyard isn’t very big, so the flies eat the shit and breed and then manage to find their way into my house. Thus begins my war on flies and on dog shit. I need to go to the store and buy some flypaper and a dog shit scoop. I also need to buy new trashcans cause my old ones are gross and don’t have good lids.

Anyway, what a shitty weekend for the most part. Friday was OK. I hung out my wife’s friend and husband, which was fun. Then Saturday sucked even though I saw Batman Begins, which was good. Then Sunday was uneventful and hot (104°), and I botched two sweet ass goal scoring opportunities in hockey. We won, but I didn’t score any goals. I had this awesome breakaway, deeked the goalie forehand side and then went backhand wide-open net, and I missed the fucking puck. Damn it. The other one I was point plank in front of the net, got a pass and flung it right into the goalies chest. Ah, well. It was fun and a good workout.

I think right now at age 24, I’m at my physical peak. I’m 6’3” 185 pounds, almost no fat on me. I’m in pretty good cardiovascular shape, and I feel strong. Hockey is an amazing workout.

Today I’m violating the dress code at work. Clothes must be a conservative style and color. Ha, fuckers, I’m wearing flashy dress pants from Express that are not conservative in style and a flashy pinkish, redish, greenish, tie that is definitely not conservative in color. Write me up bitches.

There’s no sex in your violence

Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, I believe the greatest video game ever,has been given the rating of AO. , or adults only. Due to hidden content in the game, only unlocked through a modification to the game code (easily done on a PC, difficult to do on Playstation or X-Box), which allows the player to have sex with a nude girlfriend as a side “game”. The game was already rated M, supposed to only be sold to people over the age of 17.

I really don’t understand why this is such a big deal. If you are old enough to play a game in which you can blow the heads off of old ladies as you watch the blood spray from their heads, pick up a prostitute drive her to an ally watch the car rock back and forth and then beat her with a baseball bat when she leaves to get your money back, and watch cut scenes where the characters smoke bongs, say fuck, bitch and n***er, then you’re old enough to play a game in which you can watch a sex scene between your character and your characters girlfriend. What is with our cultures ridiculous stigma with nudity and sex?

I think it’s the animal nature of both sex and nudity. Sex is primal; it lowers us from the vastly technological creatures we’ve made ourselves. We lose our logical sides and just go for it. Nothing else matters except getting and delivery pleasure. Intense guttural experiences like that are the times we truly know we’re alive. The moment of impact, the seconds of joy, good or bad experiences, you’re definitely alive.

Speaking of GTA: San Andreas, with it recently in the news, I had a renewed push to get it to 100% complete. I left it at about 84% complete for several months being to busy with buying the house, and the other things associated with it to play. I’m now at 91% complete. The game is so fantastic. The fact that you can do almost anything you want is what makes it so great. It’s certainly not a game for kids under 16, maybe even 18. For we big kids, it’s good fun.

Tatau

Instead of being riveted to the TV watching whom GWB named as his pick to eliminate all of our freedoms, I watched the new TLC series Miami Ink. It’s a show about 4 or 5 tattoo artists who open a shop in Miami and all of the fun little adventures that happen to them while working at the tattoo parlor.

Now I’ve spent some time in tattoo parlors: something like 60 hours being tattooed. Probably another 30-40 just bull shitting with my artist and talking about new shit I wanted to get and whatnot. I love tattoo parlors so much. Watching this show just brought back what my dream job would be: manager of a chocolate factory run by big-breasted hookers. No I don’t have the schoolin’ for that.

But seriously, if I won the lottery, or even won like $100,000, I would move back to Madison and open up the coolest tattoo parlor ever. Why? Tattoo parlors are the most fun, interesting places of business that exist. The clientele are so incredibly varied in opinion and interest that the conversation is always compelling, and the people are always in a good mood. Tattoo artists are, by nature, either supper cool or major assholes. I would only hire the super cool ones of course, but mix that coolness with the fearful or passionate nature of the people coming in, and you have an amazing world to be in.

Like I’ve said before, I’m starting to get hungry again for another big “fuck off” tattoo. Watching the show only made me want it more. When you hang around non-tattooed people (like at work now), you begin to not be as excited about your ink. It’s more of a divisive thing between you and the non-tattooed person. They don’t understand, and there’s no way that you can make them understand. When you are around tattooed people though, it’s entirely different. The mood is relaxed; you’re excited about your ink and about the other persons ink. Damn! I miss it.

The Weekend

Somehow this weekend was one of the better weekends that I’ve had in some time. On the surface it doesn’t seem like it should have been, but when you look at it in summary it’s quite good.

Drinking with friends, Going to a strip club, Watching TV, Getting 9 hours of sleep, Helping a friend move (very easy move), Relaxing in the air conditioning, Eating Barbeque Brisket, Taking a nap, Watching American Psycho, Playing Grand Theft Auto, Sleeping for 9 hours, Painting the shutters, Hanging the shutters, Buying a new fridge, Playing Hockey, Scoring two goals, Almost getting into a hockey fight, Binging on food and drink, Going to sleep, Waking up to have good sex, Back to sleep.

All in all it was a good weekend. I haven’t felt content falling asleep before the workweek in a long time, like somehow I missed out on something over the weekend. Like I didn’t do something or finish something I should have. Not this weekend, I got a good mix of everything. Weekends like this only come along every so often. It wasn’t rushed, but there was plenty of action and things to do.

Now back to work. I’ve got the new Harry Potter book on CD though, so at least I can listen to it while I work. My wife bought it for me because she knows I have a hard time getting motivated to read. I like to read, but this just makes it easier. It’s like listening to a radio play from the early years of radio. The guy who reads it does voices and really acts out the story.
So there it is. Hopefully the week will treat me ok.

You're insulting them and you're embarrassing me.

I stepped up today and it felt like I was dying. Stress is an amazing thing; it felt like I was having a heart attack. My chest felt tight and I could barely talk. As soon as I left everything went back to normal. Crazy shit.

I’m becoming more and more obsessed in my mind about getting a new tattoo. I want something big on my ribs (ouch!) My fear of death is also coming back and getting worse. The raving animal in the back of my mind has finally gnawed through the bars I put up. I wonder if there is a correlation between wanting a new tattoo and my fear. I should go back to therapy before I start having to pay 20% of every visit up to $X dollars. Otherwise I might end up flipping out, curling up in a corner not able to move sucking my thumb. The one thing you can’t get away from is your own mind. That’s why so many people do drugs and drink (even socially). The quote of making a beast of yourself to get rid of the pain of being a man is so very true. When I’m drunk I can say to myself over and over that eventually, some day, I’m going to die (I will no longer exist on Earth), and it won’t freak me out. The alcohol beats down the fear. What did Marx say? Religion is the Opium of the people. It beats down that fear.

Remember everyone: Good luck is when the arrow hits the guy standing next to you.

Who was that? (In a British Accent)

I work so that I can live, I don’t live to go to work. Thusly I try not to let shit bother me when I’m at work. I don’t sweat deadlines, but I’m still able to meet them all. I don’t care if somebody makes a mistake that I have to help fix. We’re all human and we’re all going to make mistakes. I don’t chew people’s ass over little things, or even big things. I just try to get the job done.

I’m embarrassed when people get so hung up on work that they feel the need to demean other people at work. It’s just a job. Most people’s jobs aren’t really that important anyway.

I guess that at every job I’ve ever worked there is always an asshole:

County market produce department-Don Ruffi: What a fuck, my first boss ever. The power went out one morning when I was the only one to set up the produce department on a Sunday. I was 3 hours behind and still had the place set up and the load broken down by the time the church rush hit. He came in and bitched at me because the fresh bunch carrots had dirt on them.

Boys and Girls Club of the Wisconsin Rapids Area-Wendy (can’t remember her last name): What a stupid bitch. If your going to be a supervisor then you need to be able to make decisions, it’s part of your job. She couldn’t tell you if you could spend $10 to buy supplies for the day or not.

Copps Meat department-Gary the meat cutter: This guy was literally crazy. He was a pig farmer until he went broke. While he cut meat he would mutter obscenities. If you asked him a work related question he would just yell at you that it wasn’t his job. He finally got fired for unhealthy cutting practices.

Associated Bank-All the personal bankers. They thought they were hot shit because they were opening people’s savings and checking accounts. They felt we tellers were just idiots. They always treated us like second-class workers.

Meriter Hospital- All the doctors and nurses, and Jim and Pete. Just because I’m doing janitorial work doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me. I’m just doing it to make some money while I go to school. Doctors wouldn’t even say hello to you while you cleaned up their areas. What dicks. Nurses, don’t get in their way they have important business to attend to. Jim and Pete the supervisors were just big tools. Always trying to catch you taking an unauthorized break even though you were getting all your work done in your area in the allotted time. They just wanted to bitch at you.

Monona Tube and Welding- Old Piss Fingers and Tom Bukala. The purchasing guy didn’t wash his hands after he took a pee and he was a jerk. He thought he could change this small company single handedly. He and Tom ended up breaking it and it ended up shutting down. Tom was the shill boss who knew The Tube would eventually go belly up so he was a butt-boy for Donaldson. Taking jobs that sucked ass and not taking jobs that would actually be lucrative. He was my first taste of a two faced asshole.

Miller Electric- Can’t remember the guys name- he was a product manager, but he would just lay into people and customers and suppliers if they didn’t do exactly what he said. My cube was right next to his office so I got to hear him tell off several employees and contractors who were doing work on his new house.

Janesville Janitorial Service- There was this stupid woman who wouldn’t clean at the pace everyone else would, and she refused to be given any pointers as to how to speed up. (It’s funny how my memory gets worse and worse the more recent the job is, must be the booze from college)

Madison East Public High School- I only worked about 15 hours a week tutoring here, so I really didn’t interact with anyone enough for them to be an asshole to me. I mostly worked with students who were pretty cool and nice. The exception to the rule I guess, only jaded adults ruin work.

Prepubescent Butterfly Inc.- I’m not at liberty to discuss this job as I am currently working at it and several employees of this company frequent this blog. So I’ll just say that everyone at Opposite of Dog is an exemplary individual who does his or her job in a kind, courteous, efficient manner.

Horny Pills

I try not to put political shit on my blog unless it directly affects me, health care benefits getting worse, things like that. All of these Republican blogger’s I have links to just jumped on the fucking band wagon today and all but a couple put up a picture of the Union Jack and some shit about our hearts and minds and balls and cocks are with you. All of them had some shit to say though about it though.

You know what the odds of you dying in a terrorist attack in The United States, the UK, or Spain is? Well, it’s 3,281/396,517,053 or about 0.0008%. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIE IN A TERRORIST ATTACK. If you do, you’re really unlucky and that sucks. You’re much more likely to be struck by lightning at 1/576,000. You’re also more likely to win most state lotteries than you are to be killed by the evil terrorists. You all need to calm the fuck down, and start spending billions on the war on lightning strikes. I’m leading the fucking charge against them. They kill thousands every year, just like the terrorists.

Remember kids, that shit takes you when it takes you and all you religious people get to go to heaven so your death should be the happiest day of your life.

Sometimes you forget who you are, Music can bring you back

My extended weekend wasn't really anything special. We unpacked and did work around the house. So I'll discuss something else.

Recently, due to the heat, I've had to more cleverly hide my tattooed right arm. (See post below). A comrade of mine at work who knows about my ink, said "Oh man, I bet you're regretting you got that now"

Do I regret over 60 painful hours of being tattooed? Do I regret spending over $3740.00 on something that depreciated to $0.00 instantly? Fuck no.

If I could go back to the moment before I got my first and stop, a thought that did flash through my mind the second before the needles hit my skin, I wouldn't.

In American society there is no right of passage. What makes us adults? Our age. One year to the next, I don't know that I really feel any different. It didn't mean shit when I turned 16,18,or 21. I may have gotten to do a few more things, but nothing about the experience changed me in any way, or gave me a profound sense of worth. In ancient cultures you had to kill someone to be considered a man. You turn 18 and you're magically ready to vote, kill in wars, and be killed for the crimes you commit. I became a man when I was 19 years 5 months old when my backpiece was done. I had been through something that not everyone has. I had survived. I was different.

My back is the picture of my fear of death, and my vain hope that I get to go on forever. It's my belief that I'm stronger than anyone in the face of adversity, and that I determine if I sink or swim. It's my way to remember my grandparents. It's my love of wings and my fear of flying.

I didn't like that no one could see it though. That's why I got the sleeve. So everyone could see that I was a bad mother fucker, and to tell everyone that tits aren't always pornographic (Who doesn't like tits?). It's also my love of wings, and the knowledge that what flies sometimes crashes.

And then there's the green monkey. It's officially the most spontaneous thing any engineer has ever done, ever, Period. You can't take your life too seriously. Even something that will be with you forever. It doesn't matter. Fuck it. Do it. You only get one chance and one opportunity. I can look at that tattoo and laugh even when I feel like shit.

I've got one more planned. Something for my kid when it's born, and also something to remember the one that didn't make it. It deserves to be remembered too. 'Cause life isn't always fair.

My Green Monkey on my side. Yes, this is really tattooed on me forever. It's my favorite of them all. 

The Lament for Icarus-By Herbert Draper. The painting my sleeve is based on. 

A Picture of My Right Arm Sleeve

My Back Piece 

It's going to be a long day

The combination of moving and the intense heat finally won me over yesterday. After dinner I fell asleep on the couch and didn’t wake up until 8:30. Then I couldn’t fall asleep when I actually wanted to so I’m a bit sleepy this morning.

My design issue is resolved, had to go with plan B, old reliable, Mr. Dependable.

The section is continuing it’s downward spiral. Mr. Fresh has moved on to a new location, and The Beef is looking for a new place. The new kid from Wisconsin quit. I feel that in some way I’m responsible for him leaving. I should have told him how horrible this town was and tried to make his transition easier. I mean when you’re coming from the #1 city in the United States, Madison, and going into essentially the depths of hell, it’s not easy. I know. I did it. I still sit and think longingly about sitting on the Monona Terrace sipping a beer while the cool lake breeze falls across my brow. I do this while staring across the barren wasteland of culture, style, and everything else that is Central Illinois. Soon there will be nothing left in this section but Squares, Conservative Christians, and Morons. Ah well, its just work, nothing important.