You are Michael Bolton.

You’re kind of geeky and you share the same name
with a no-talent ass clown. I’m sorry.

Which Office Space Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

… allow me to register the full wrath of my level of displeasurement.

HT: Jekfe.com

I am apparently the number three Google hit for “cockwhoring” thanks to this post.

That night was also when my first inclination to search for Baltimore-area blogs occured. Zenchick and BaLtiMoRe RoLL were the first I found.

*UPDATE*

Speaking of funky Google hits …

The ice maker atop the fountain soda machine died the other day. It’s been dying for awhile, but generally some rare and rather expensive and hard to install piece of equipment will keep it limping along for a time. Well, it up and flopped over dead as any piece of shitty equipment possibly can be. Gary unbolted it today and gave it a proper funeral — he beat the shit out of it with the old baseball bat we keep under the counter.

(Oh, I’m kidding, he’s hoping to sell it for parts and recoup some of his costs).

In any case, Gary was in a bad mood today. Coca-Cola still hasn’t contacted him as to whether or not they’ll provide a new ice machine — if not, he’s going to be out some cash, and the autumn business hasn’t really kicked in yet. That’s I think what people don’t understand about some of these mom & pop pizza shops (any restaraunt, or retail shop independently owned, in general), yeah the big chains can afford to drop $30,000 on a new pizza oven whenever they feel like it, but for the little places, a lot of times, it really is living paycheck to paycheck, or rather, end-of-the-night deposit to end-of-the-night deposit.

Long story short, Gary was in a pissy mood, and much cleaning was to be had. Thankfully, there was no second driver and I was kept fairly steady on the road. Tips were pretty decent also, which never hurts.

He’s still keeping my schedule pretty sparse — he doesn’t want me anchoring his day shifts just to find out he’s going to have to replace me on super short notice. Looks like Silent Bob is moving into my position of weekday second driver, and I’m fine with that. I don’t expect to be needing this job for much longer, at the same time, its a bit of a belt-tightener, so I’m going to see what I can do about picking up an extra shift at the franchise in the meantime.

Something there about a basket and eggs, y’know?

… that retail folk are being much more careful verifying credit and debit-card holder’s identities? Lately, every time I’ve used either in a retail store, the clerk has been very careful to ask for photo identification. At Best Buy last week, picking up a gift card for my sister, the guy in front of me actually had to go out to his car for his driver’s license. He had this completely shell-shocked expression on his face when the clerk insisted for the third time, “Sir? No photo I.D.? No purchase.” When it was my turn, and the clerk asked for my i.d., I produced my wallet - my driver’s license is kept under clear plastic in the left-most fold, the clerk took the wallet and spent probably ten seconds actually comparing the name on the card to that on the license, then studying the license’s likeness to my face.

Anyway, I think its a great thing, retailers taking this step to verify people. As I mentioned, haven’t noticed it so strictly enforced in the past.

Since Common Wombat got in a bit early, our plans to see Serenity got bumped up a night and he, me, Sally, and his oft-mentioned friend Paul met up at my apartment and traveled into the Heart of Darkness - Hunt Valley - to watch a movie that should make George Lucas cry in shame.

There was a line inside the theater for the Serenity crowd. I kid you not when I say most people had the aura of total sci-fi geeks — they were wearing brown coats. If you know, you don’t have to ask, and if you have to ask, you need to watch this so you’re at the point where you don’t have to ask. And what is so great about this, you ask? If FOX hadn’t cancelled this, I’d be raving about Battlestar Galactica as the second best show on television.

I’m going to devote the rest of this post to the Blind Person and the Blind People Translators in front of us. I should explain — it was a large group of sci-fi geeks who’d come to the movie. The one guy was blind, and the women at his left and right side warned us ahead of time that they were going to be — softly — describing the movie, as obviously, he couldn’t see it (blind). The four of us, being cool people, were of course cool. Wombat, being a funny ass, started joking, “…okay, but I’m going to be, ‘omg, everyone died!” And then me, being a not so funny ass, chimed in with, “Oh my goodness! What is Jayne doing to Vera?*” to which one of the women replied, “…That gives whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘pulling the trigger.’”

Nothing I can write will do this film justice, and I’m not going to bother trying to waste my poorly utilized talents in that futile attempt. I am so seeing this again, want to join me?

After the movie ended, and the clapping ended, and everyone started getting up to head out, one of the women in front of us asked me where I’d gotten the shirt I was wearing. In point of fact, I’d gotten it from this guy as a ‘thank you’ for dog-sitting: it’s a black t-shirt with the logo of a booze called “BRENNIVIN”, which apparently in Iceland is the equivilent of Milwaukee’s Crap. Turns out her father-in-law had gotten her the same t-shirt on a business trip.

So that was my night. Fun.

Yes, it was.