Aug 29, 2012

More Bad Tats!

Sorry for my absence in this little corner of the internet (insert standard disclaimer about how busy/lazy/ADD I have been).

Lots of folks have been so kind to send me tats and I really appreciate them all.  If you don't see yours appear, it doesn't mean that I don't like it.  It just means that I have used it in past postings.

Either that or I lost it in my complex storage system that uses a form of the replicator found in the Star Trek TV series.

I am going with the former...

Without further ado, here is an entry sent by our good friend Cindy!

Momma always did love her pistol.




These were sent to me by Bill on Facebook.

Psycho Bitch who will never ever have a job...

Everybody always wants to lick the Chewy.

I found this one earlier today from one of the sites I follow.  It was called "The world's worst tramp stamp".  I think I may have to agree...



And last is a link to some tats that good friend and frequent contributor, Scope, sent to me.  I have posted a couple of these before, but some I had not seen yet.  I decided to be lazy and just give you the link to them.  Thanks Scope!

http://gizmodo.com/5916633/the-9-most-terrible-tech-tattoos

Aug 16, 2012

Heading into the weekend with a smile!

At least I hope some of these make you smile, enjoy everyone.







Me on vacation in about 5 years...












Aug 12, 2012

Unprofessional

Sometimes it is poor customer service.


Sometimes it is a co-worker stabbing you in the back.


Other times it is doing a sub standard job on a repair, or another service related task.


But what is unprofessional in the world of dance?  That is a tough one to gauge, but I think this just might be it:

 

 

 

 



Aug 7, 2012

The post you probably shouldn't even read

A couple of weeks ago  I was going to write a post venting away at some shit that has been bothering me, but decided not to.  I didn't want to hurt anybodies feelings that might stray across this corner of the interwebs.

I guess that I have had just about enough crap build up in my life that I just don't care any more and decided what the hell, I need to get some crap off my chest.  So fair warning here, the pity party is about to commence.

Those of you who have been reading this blog for any length of time know about my son Skyler.  I love him to death but lately he has been getting on my very last nerve.  We have been trying a form of Zoloft for him for a couple of months now in hopes that might help break him out of this funky mood he has been in.  On top of the Cerebral Palsy and Sensory issues, he seems to be hell bent on doing self stimulating activities with his computer and DVDs that get him wound up and over the top excited.  Then comes the crash after the fact with the screaming and crying and we have to put him in his room like a grade schooler.  I guess in many ways, his maturity level is really about that, he is a lot younger emotionally than his 21 years.  So I guess we need to revisit the neurologist and try something new for him.  Otherwise I will be selling his body parts on Craigslist.

Our last trip to Seattle to see Kathy's family was interesting to say the least.  Her dad is starting to really slip mentally, and the family knows it but kind of has decided to ignore it.  I know it is tough, but why wait until Kathy comes out and then vent to her about how hard it is and what should we do?  She has two older sisters and a brother out there all living pretty close.  We are the only ones out of state, so why isn't anything happening out there?  Who the fuck knows.  But the thing that about drove me over the edge was an issue with Kathy's older sister.  She lost her husband to cancer late last year.  It was a horrible thing for her to go through, and Kathy was out there for awhile across a couple of trips to try and help out.  I know that people all grieve in their own way, but she has really been dumping everything on her two kids.  They had to take over the family business, make all the plans for the funeral, take care of selling the car and house because their were completely underwater in debt, and all while she was sitting and crying about not being able to go on vacation.  Christ!  Those kids just lost their dad also, come on and suck it up just a bit.

Was that too harsh, sorry if it seemed that way.

So to top off this bitch list, we have gone through yet another re-org at work.  I left Sun Micro to take this job because I lasted through 13 layoffs and couldn't stomach it any more.  things here at Cisco were OK for a few years, and now the same shit is happening.  I have really never felt so insecure in my life.  I am the sole source of income in this family, and I need the job and benefits.  If I get laid off, we are pretty screwed.  So no pressure there, maybe that is why I drink so much beer...

This is very disjointed, and I apologize for that.  But to give you an idea of what transpires around here day to day, I started this 3 days ago.  In that time I have been interrupted by work several times, because you know, if you work at home you must always be available, ya know.  By Skyler needing any number of things, (which is OK, because he is totally dependent on me, I get it).  By having to digitize and finally give Skyler an enema, because he has so many problems with getting a bowel movement.  And by him having a mild seizure.  Such is the glamorous life of the special needs parent.

So I am tired.  Really, really fucking tired.  looking down the road I see a continuation of the same life with the same shit, and honestly it scares the hell out of me.  I have well meaning friends who say to let them know what they can do to help, but honestly a couple of hours away is all anybody could do, and that isn't going to make a bit of difference anyway.  On the rare occasion that we have snuck out to see a movie or something, the issues it causes for Skyler last for a couple of days after.  So it isn't worth it.  So Kathy and I do things separately to try and get away.

Aren't you glad you read this?  I am not looking for pity or answers.  I just needed to unload.