Bitch Stole My Cake


So the Old Lady went to great lengths for our second anniversary to commission a cake in the same style as our wedding cake - "Basket-weave" something or other. She ordered it a week ago, and when it came time to pick it up, there was a problem. The Old Lady's initials happen to be the same as Khloe Kardashian, someone famous for being famous, or famous for being on reality TV, or for being the sister of someone famous for being on reality TV. (If you can't tell by my dissmissive tone, I am attempting to communicate how above the TMZ-celebrity culture I am, because if I kept typing, I might let it slip that I follow thesuperficial.com...Whups! I only visit the site for the nudity, I swear!)

It turns out, our anniversary cake was labled "KK," and it got tossed in the lot with Khloe. Bitch stole my cake!

Update:

...And fiscal troubles are just the tip of the iceberg. California's percentage of adults without at least a high-school education is the second-highest in the nation (and the fact that 72% of those without diplomas are immigrants only fuels the state's growing problem of social stratification). The Commonwealth Fund has ranked the quality of California's health care lowest of the 50 states. The state has the highest rate of criminal recidivism in the country. It has six of the ten worst cities in the country in air pollution. Los Angeles and San Francisco have some of the most congested roads in the nation, which costs the state's employers billions in lost productivity each year. The state is seriously discussing mandatory water rationing, and has in recent years experienced severe disruptions of its electricity supply. Unemployment is over 11%, and a recent survey of corporate CEOs ranked California the worst state in the country in which to do business. It is losing native-born ­citizens faster than any other state, and citizens are forced to contend with celebrities stealing their cake. Reported one local, "Bitch stole my cake!"

Sticks and Stoned









Bubba Kush - Indica

With the unemployment rate above 10% in half the states, some may find it interesting to know that Mezz0 isn't the only one daydreaming about getting laid off. I too have grown increasingly impatient with our company's bizarre managerial bureaucracy and the suburban scenery. My impatience has grown even worse now that I have a tentative plan to move to California sometime in the first fiscal quarter of 2010. In the meantime, I am faced with the stark reality of another bleak midwest winter working this bleak, meaningless job. At least I have some Bubba Kush.















In an effort to make sure that I'm somewhere near the top of the list if/when we have another round of layoffs before next year, I have started making a sport out of minimizing number of minutes that I work in a given day and seeing how much of my work I can convince my manager to willingly do without having to directly ask her. I'm hoping it will make a difference. Nothing would make moving to a new state easier than receiving a severance package and an unemployment check or two.

As a part of my "work-free workday" last week I waited until 15 minutes before quitting time to take care of that day's tasks. I had forgotten about one thing, though, and had to stay an extra 20 minutes to finish up. I didn't get out of the office until about 5:30. VP's tend to stay late every day, and I noticed one walking away from our building as I approached a parking lot intersection in my car.

"Shit," I thought, "The last thing I need is for him to think I'm putting in extra effort."

I ducked my head slightly and scratched my eyebrow, hoping to obscure my face from his view. I feared that he still may have seen me, so I lowered my windows and cranked up Rage Against the Machine's first album as I chirped out onto the city streets--praying that he'd at least view me as a disrespectful prick.


















For me, the downside of making plans to move and setting a time line like this is that I tend to see the interim period as a sort of a prison sentence. I am only doing time...showing up, putting in the hours, going home, having a beer/smoking a joint/watching TV/playing poker/playing video games/watching a movie/listening to music. Sleep, repeat, change scenery on the weekends and vacations.

Regardless of how similar this routine is to what I would plan on doing anywhere else in the world, my schedule takes on a dark, uninspired quality in my mind's eye during these pre-transitional periods. I was feeling bored...my highway driving was getting more aggressive and reckless. My need for a thrill or adrenaline rush or new stimulus of some sort seemed to be manifesting itself in dangerous ways.

That's why I joined up with a men's league hockey team (tastefully known as the Soggy Biscuits) a few weeks ago. Nothing satisfies the psyche more than inflicting pain and humiliation on people who are trying to do the same to you. Hell, even if we end up losing a few games, the thrill of getting knocked down to the ice in front of the net without a mask or shield on your helmet--just as your defenseman unleashes a slapshot-- is truly exhilarating. We won our first two games by 5 goals or more. I remained scoreless due to my sub par conditioning, rusty skills, general lack of arm strength, and willingness to play on defense.


















Last night's game, I was playing forward against our most challenging opponent yet. I showed up a little baked and a little late from my pregame weed-nap, but my haze disappeared quickly and I managed to get into the action after a shift or two. Late in the second, I was trailing the play into the offensive zone and picked up the puck just as the play was broken up. I took a shot immediately, despite the rolling puck, and ended up with a faltering, lengthy, pathetic shot on goal--an easy save. Our opponents had an amazing goalie, as proved by more skilled players on our team, and despite our dominating performance, the score was tied at zero going into the third period.

I was consoled by a teammate after returning to the bench due to the shitty ice and rolling puck, but I took stock and realized that most of my shots have been coming from the tops of the circles without any power behind them.

I tried to think through a solution. I imagined myself getting the puck again, only taking three quick strides towards the goal, faking a pass across ice, and shooting the puck mid stride to the opposite side of the net as the goalie shifted to anticipate the pass.













Midway through the third, the player who was consoling me earlier passed me the puck as we broke into the offensive zone. I took three quick strides towards the opposite post, spotted a teammate across ice, changed my hand positioning to make it look like I was passing it to him--slightly behind me--then midway through the pass I pivoted and sent the puck across my body to the opposite side of the net. The goalie helplessly slid across the crease as the puck hit the netting on the opposite side of the net.

Goal!

In a fit of panicked embarrassment, an opposing player blurted out, "Nice shot..."

"Fuck you," I snarled, "I'll eat your fucking babies."

We went on to win 3-0 and are undefeated in our first three games.

The point of all this? I dunno, maybe it's the fact that the goal I scored last night was far more satisfying, challenging, and fun than anything I've done at work for the last 3 years.

Shit, speaking of which, I gotta get out of here before people start thinking I'm working late again.

Liveblogging White Collar Spiral
9/23 6:00pm

Yesterday, someone in the know told me "Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day for all of us." He wants to tell me something but can't. I can feel it. Maybe a buy out? Shit. He told me someone else is going to get laid off, so I imagine it has to be something other than massive layoffs, or reorg, but I don't know. All of a sudden, I've been asked to present my implementation plan to the COO, who (ironically enough) does not concern himself with these sorts of operational affairs for the most part.

9/24 9:00am

Everyone was asked to wear business formal because an investor, or VIP, is in town. This reminds me that I was asked to give a demo to "a few VIPs" to which I refused. I told the VP of Tech I was no longer responsible for demos and to LMS. Operations Vp is on PTO b/c of her mother-in-law's hip surgery. I don't believe this story for a second.

9/24 10:00am

Youngest just recommended I "Be safe, start hoarding supplies and computer equipment now"

9/24 11:00am

Daydreaming about what to do with unemployment. Hiking in the Sierras definately. Moto trip to baja to Cabo is a possibility. Surf everyday.

9/24 11:11am

WTF? Meeting request: "Come join us in the board room tomorrow to celebrate the signing of our first ....REDACTED... contract! Everyone is welcome.

9/24 12:00pm. On a conference call and wondering how many office pens are too many office pens to be sprinting down the hall and stuffing into my briefcase?

9/24 1:09pm. Just heard rumor. We recieved X million dollars in funding very recently. We owe Y million dollars. Y > X

9/24 2:40pm. First meeting with the COO. He asked very direct questions and made me blush. "Now where did you get that impression," he asked. He wanted to know if I felt empowered given the current management structure, and if I wanted to separate myself from being under the VP of Ops. Red pill, blue pill. I wanted to tell him I was a rouge at heart, a wild, unbroken horse, and a bad motherfucker with a maverick streak, but instead I just sweated.

9/24 7:25pm. Fuck this job. A layoff would be a blessing. No big news, then as I was leaving the same dude's office that dropped the unmaterialized rumor yesterday, he said, "oh well - we'll all be in a meeting at 3:00pm." It's dark out, and I'm liable to get killed riding the Dirty Whore back home.

Yes

Yes

Killing the Buddha



Last night's dream:

I was in a Buddhist temple, pressing my face down onto the floor along with everyone else as a sign of respect. When I returned to a seated position, I noticed monitors hanging above a stage where some sort of presentation was taking place.

I was there for a college lecture or seminar of some sort, and in betweew videos, a professor from a Morom school took the stage and explained why Buddhism was incompatable with Mormonism. I thought she was being disrespectful, so I stood up, interrupting her, and defended Buddhism - the peacful nature of the religion, the psychological benefits to meditation - I was making a good case, and embaressing the professor. She attempted to respond, but I told her to shut up.

The next presentation began, and someone from the temple explained why, from a completely irrational perspective, some sort of benign medical treatment was causing people to die. In my dream, I was feeling as though I had just defended the Buddhists, and then they immediately exposed themselves as silly and superstitous.

I was sitting next to one of my jiu jitsu buddies. We looked at each other and nodded, knowing immediately that we needed to leave in a mixture of disgust and resignation, but mostly resignation. We walked up through the aisle, and into a back room. As we crossed through the back room and out the door, I threw a copy of "Getting Things Done into the garbage.

Conversations with the Prince of Persia: On Being American

Online chat with my co-worker from Iran:

Amir [11:58 AM]:
american

Mezz0 [11:58 AM]:
Yes Sir, and proud to be one.

Amir [11:58 AM]:
buddy, you gonna home grab your lunch there?

Mezz0 [11:58 AM]:
We live in the best country in the world.

Amir [11:58 AM]:
I like the answer I will be citizen soon. God bless America

Mezz0 [11:59 AM]:
I am sorry that you will not be a citizen sooner, because you cannot imagine the pride in my heart at living in this wonderful country.

Amir [11:59 AM]:
uou are right about that, but hey, seems you never visited my country

Mezz0 [11:59 AM]:
All that's in your country is sand and camels. And people that beat each other with sticks

Amir [12:00 PM]:
seems you want to get bitten by stickes right

Mezz0 [12:00 PM]:
You need to work on your English prior to becoming an American. That didn't make any sense

Mezz0 [12:00 PM]:
Did you mean "beaten" by "sticks"? They'll never give you citizenship at this rate.

Amir [12:01 PM]:
yes, that is what I meant, I am shorteing the words master

Mezz0 [12:01 PM]:
I understand. Thankfully, in this country, we have a sophisticated justice system that prevents the wonton beating of innocent civilians (for the most part)

Mezz0 [12:02 PM]:
Although, by God, we are tough on terrorists...You can forget about justice if you're a terrorist. (Or if they think you're a terrorist)

Amir [12:02 PM]:
ok, fair enough, that is why I law this country, but does not hurt much if you visit the camel country

Mezz0 [12:03 PM]:
I don't care for totalitarian regimes that endeavor to wipe our allies off the map. When you folks turn your back on your theocratic ways and embrace capitalism and free trade, then we'll talk.

Amir [12:04 PM]:
allright, allright, I roger that

Mezz0 [12:05 PM]:
You guys have potential, though, don't get me wrong.

Mezz0 [12:06 PM]:
I mean, people that created lubia polo can't be all bad.

Amir [12:06 PM]:
lol

Amir [12:07 PM]:
I like your type of judgement man and you are damn right

Mezz0 [12:07 PM]:
Don't much care for your music - sounds like a bunch of high-pitched screetching and wailing, but good looking women, too, did I mention that?

Amir [12:08 PM]:
no, you just mention that - you should mention it first as a true American

Mezz0 [12:08 PM]:
Wow - +1 for you - You are more American than I thought. In some ways, perhaps, even more American than I am.

Amir [12:08 PM]:
I am a true amecian, ...

Mezz0 [12:09 PM]:
In spirit, of course, you don't have papers or anything. Let's not get carried away.

Amir [12:09 PM]:
yeah, that is why is am hear man, you should mention in earlier

Mezz0 [12:09 PM]:
Thank you for your advice, I appreciate it. We can both help each other become more American.

Mezz0 [12:10 PM]:
Hint #1: Stop pronouncing your Ws like Vs

Amir [12:10 PM]:
yes, I buy that idea

Mezz0 [12:10 PM]:
Good! Repeat after me, “What’s your vector, Victor?”

Amir [12:10 PM]:
roger, good catch

Mezz0 [12:10 PM]:
Hint #2: Eat more french fries, like, every day (you'll get used to it)

Amir [12:11 PM]:
I have the potential to love ffries,

Mezz0 [12:11 PM]:
Excellent!

Amir [12:11 PM]:
I can do it, believe me

Mezz0 [12:11 PM]:
Hint #3: Don't get in someone's face when you are talking to them - American's like staying at arm's length

Amir [12:12 PM]:
good point, I remember that, with some exception, you know what I am talking about, if she is hot, I can resist, you agree that right

Mezz0 [12:13 PM]:
Good clarification - If you are macking on some fly girl at the club, and she's grinding up in your shit, that's totally cool…(and very American)

Amir [12:14 PM]:
right, hey, in the context of lubia polo, boss and I ordering now, do you want to order or you are going home

Mezz0 [12:14 PM]:
Yeah - I want some lubia polo,and a side of forshi - nothing more American than that

Brasil Post #2: Brasilian Boys

We are living in a 19th floor apartment of a giant gated community with a rec center immediately across the street where the Jiu Jitsu/Judo academy is located. As guests, we have access to the pools, tennis courts, (many) soccer fields, and weight room. The view from our balcony is pretty decent, and aside from the 50-year old washing machine technology and dusty linens, we are not wanting for anything. There is even room for the dart board I packed with Erwin's face on the bullseye.

Some shots from our balcony:





This morning, Gerson woke us up, and we arranged to meet at the rec center, and then head out to lunch with a friend that Gerson wanted to have a conversation with about an upcoming film. Later, while we were waiting at the rec center, we noticed a group of 9-10 year old boys playing indoor soccer. We were watching them for less than a minute before they asked us to join them. Grover and I immediately took off our shoes, and bounded to the gym floor.

I approached their leader, and said, "Ew, Aqui y ella, la" ("Me, here and him there") - I was feeling proud of myself when the boy answered, "OK - you're goalie" in perfect English. My team (which I will refer to as Team Awesome) had skill, tenacity, and a fighting spirit any goalie-coach would admire. Grover's team (Team Losers) were a bunch of cheating shlubs that I gather were from a local favela. The shortest of their bunch had a nasty face, was dressed in a blaze red soccer jersey, and I swear he was packing heat.

Team Awesome came out strong with a blizzard of offense. In spite of our best efforts, Grover repeatedly made save after (lucky) save. Due primarily from my encouragement at the other side of the gym, we continued to pound Team Losers until we scored several goals in a row. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

After the initial trouncing, Team Losers stepped up their game, and used long outlet passes to isolate me, leaving me no choice but to give up a few goals that were nearly impossible to stop, including a rocket at close range between my legs. I didn't give anyone an earful for their lack of defense, and I think they respected my restraint.


(If the above video works, it is of yet another two on one I was forced to contend with, and the post-goal gloating by Team Losers. Note the left-footed pass to the left-footed shot)

Gerson showed up a few minutes later, and watched us for a while with Novell before we had to leave. In all seriousness, the skill level of these kids was roughly equivilant to a high school soccer player in the United States. Their ball handling was absolutely amazing, and the level of sophistication of their games I never would have guessed anyone at that age could possess, which I tried to explain to them just before leaving along with an "Obrigado."

We all joined Gerson's wife, Corina, in the car, and drove to a very nice restaraunt where we (the Gringos, at least) were a bit underdressed. The girlfriend of one of Gerson's relatives happened to be eating at the same restaraunt, which wasn't surprising because Gerson seems to run into people he knows everywhere in Barra. We learned on the way that we would be meeting up with a Brazilian soap opera star ("The Brad Pitt of Brazil") that would be in the film Gerson was producing. We waited a little while for him to join us, eating cheeze and garlic bread. Then, when heart throb Murilo Rosa finalley arrived, all eyes in restaraunt followed him to our party of five. We shook his lovely hand, and sat down to eat lunch, cooked next to our table that included three pounds of beef. We stuffed ourselves silly while Gerson, Corina, and Murilito discussed the upcoming film in Portuguese. I could only pick out a word or two from every sentence that I understood, but his grace and charisma transcended all language.



A few times during the meal, he joked with us about being fighters, and Grover took the opporutnity afterwards for a photo op.



Now we are just relaxing with some Acai before training this evening at another academy a little ways away. I'm a little fatigued from the soccer game, but am looking forward to donning my gi, and participating in a sport in which I do not embaress myself.