There's a snake in my shower

At some point, I stupidly decided that I needed more exposure to things and planned an excursion to Costa Rica to visit the Talamanca BriBri. I will talk more about them later as they are a blog and a half alone. The purpose of this blog is to talk about everything else that is trying to kill me in this country.

1. The flight: Anyone who knows me knows I hate flying. I REALLY hate flying. I would rather drive eleventy billion miles than fly. I know all the statistics that tell me flying is safer than driving but tell that to the people on the 6 flights out of three million that have crashed with Delta Air (Yes, I looked up the statistics. Yes, I know that makes me paranoid. No, I don't need help unless you have some recreational Xanax you'd like to offer.)

Things I should never hear on a flight: "Sorry folks but it's going to be extra turbulent because the volcano is extra active today."

Wait, What?

Which brings me to point two, which is

2. The active freaking Volcano: This pretty much covers it in one sentence. I've spent entirely too much time around an active volcano. The tourists are like "Yay Lava Flows!" and I'm like "Why are we standing here still? Do you people understand Lava is H-O-T? Are you all familiar with the concept of Pompeii? Google it, I'll wait.....oh wait..."

Which brings me to point three

3. The Internet: The internet here is owned by an evil corporation called ICE. They own the cell phones, they own the pay phones, they own the internet. If you want to use their service, they will own you. I am pretty sure that somewhere in the Spanish Small Print is "And we will be allowed the blood of your first born". Also, it only covers 70% of the country. Everyone guess which 30% of the country I've been in frequently? At least the surrounding area is beautiful and full of nature which brings me to point 4....

4. There's a snake in my god damned shower, as evidenced above. Also, my shower is outside. Also, There's a GOD DAMNED SNAKE THAT IS HALF AS LONG AS ME IN MY SHOWER.

If you all will excuse me, I'm running low on battery and need a bottle of the delightful local drink that I am pretty sure is made with sugar, melon, and diesel fuel.

Non-western lit is the bane of my existence

*Pictured at the right "Diversity". Also, a gay man*

Well the class is. Not so much Non-Western literature as a whole. I rather enjoy reading something that hasn't been shoved down my throat for years. Although I love my English classes, I was getting entirely sick of reading "Beowulf" and "The Tempest" over and over again. So, I took Non-Western Lit last semester.

I should have known it was going to be a problem just by virtue of all my other classes not being a problem. I always have that one class that just doesn't work out. Intro to Diversity ("You're Racist!), Debate (You're Racist!), Critical Interpretation ("You're Racist and can't tell the difference between Synecdoche and Metonymy). Note, there's a bit of a theme here. My teacher told me that I was too closed minded and that I could learn from my classmates. Protip: The right answer is not "I do not pay tuition to learn from 20 people with associate's degrees. I pay tuition to learn from the person with all of the fancy letters after her name." Maybe I'm wrong. It's happened plenty of times before. It will most likely continue until I go to that great Chicken Wing Shack in the Sky.

Every book we read was coming from a Post-Colonialist point of view. I really didn't have a problem with this but as the semester wore on and on, it was hard to see the Non-Western Lit part of view. It was just like reading western literature that was sprinkled with brown people occasionally. I never walked out feeling I had a sense of culture. Rather, I walked out sensing how western culture has affected others.Example: If we read about India, the stories might have an Indian or two, but the majority of the characters were white or were trying to escape browness and assimilate into the White world. I am also pretty ok with that. If I lived in a place where being brown was a problem, I probably would too...oh wait....

We read two stories out of ten that I considered to be western literature. One was about the Biafra war in Nigeria. The other was about the cultural revolution in China. None of my classmates knew anything about the events and they all hated these stories. I can cut some slack for not being hip the the Biafra war simply because our schools focus narrowly on what is considered to be important history. Clearly, we only learn about the popular genocides (Of course, my classmates could only name one genocide. Two if you count the class debating on if Rwanda actually counts). However, not knowing about the Chinese Cultural Revolution (any of them much less the one we tend to be familiar with) was a bit much for me.

I entirely lost it when I had to sit in a class of 20 something young mostly white (although I can't say with 100% certainty they were all white because I have plenty of members of my own family that can pass for white) young people discuss what people in a genocide should have done instead of being geocided to death.

"I would have just left the country": Of course! No one ever thought of that! And it was just as unlikely that if they did think of it that other countries might turn them away or not want to deal with refugees.

"I would have never eaten dead animals from the roadside.That's so gross": You also wouldn't have survived long with that attitude.

"They would pry my rights from my cold dead gun-toting hands": Which is pretty much what happened to a lot of people. Grats for being ahead of the curve?

"I am so glad we don't have that kind of intolerance here. Third world countries have so much work to do." : I know what this person was trying to say but it was ludicrous coming in the middle of a conversation of these young people looking down on how people survived. Also, since they were only really familiar with one genocide, I wanted to point out that particular genocide happened in a non-third world country and wasn't full of the silly misguided brown people but I thought if I opened my mouth it might come out like "Hisssssssssss *incomprehensible shrieking*"

I already knew that in nearly everything I would read in an English program is going to be pretty White and Pretty Western. I love my glorious (dead) white overlord-authors. However, I was mildly confused by every story in my non-western literature class being heavily white and western. Pointing out the fact that our stories were still heavily western (The last story we read was by a guy in the United States. He says right in the front of the book he was writing a historical fiction and in no way shape or form intends to speak for the people, he was just fascinated with the culture) literature got me labeled as a racist. At least this time it was coming from white people. Normally, it's my own brethern and semi-brethern accusing me of being a self-hating brown folk.

Our last story was about the Marshall Islands. As you all may know, the United States did some serious nuclear testing there. The people in the area have issues with cancer, reproductive issues, and other health issues. A member of my class said "It's so refreshing to see people who don't blame the United States and white people for all of their problems. We even took care of them and gave them 11k per person."

Now that I have written this out, I don't think my problem was mostly with the class at all. I still do not consider the class to be western lit but the literature was memorable and touching. I think my problem is with stupid people. At least I have the good common sense to keep my stupid opinions out of the classroom and post them on the internet instead. If you folks will excuse me, I am off to sign up for non-western lit part 2. My degree path requires for me to be a well rounded individual and I am failing miserably.

The Service Industy and me: This cake is a lie.

*Not pictured at the right: Me not setting a crackhead on fire.*

"Soul Crushing" are the most frequent words I use to describe my time in the service industry. I recognize that I am using it as a means to an end (Colleges like it when you pay them);but, I am pretty sure what little soul I have is being consumed by a monster called Customer Service. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the customer...usually. I would prefer to rectify any situation rather than let someone go away unsatisfied. With all of that being said, There are a few people that need to get bent. Today would be nice but I would settle for in general.

Mr/Ms More Education (perceived or otherwise)- Example: "Do you know who I am? I have 8 Doctorates! I could do your job with my eyes plucked out and my arms sundered from my body." This person will spend a lot of time lecturing me about his/her various degrees and why everything I am doing is one step short of functionally retarded. Amazingly enough, this particular person has yet to figure out that by shrieking at me and forcing me to cater to his/her temper tantrum actually slows down my ability to solve whatever the the problem might be. My ideal response would be "Is one of your degrees in Jackassery? If so, you show a beautiful mastery of it." The appropriate hasn't got me fired yet response is "I would appreciate it if you did not attempt to denigrate me. I realize you are frustrated but personal attacks are uncalled for and slow the process down." This response has yielded me at least one apology so I suppose it can't be all bad.

The Crackhead- Example: "I *twitch* think you're discriminating against me *twitch* on the basis of (insert age, color, religion, weight, other insanity here). I'm going to sue you *twitch* and own this whole building *twitch* then I'm going to fire you and then let's see you get another job *twitch*" I love this person. This person is usually obviously under the influence of something (drugs, alcohol, deity of choice, whatever) and wants for me desperately, and usually angrily, to understand how right they are (they usually aren't). My ideal response would be "I'm sorry, I tuned out the moment you told me you worked for Homeland Security and could have Obama fire me from Camp David." The appropriate hasn't got me fired response is " I am sorry that you feel that you have received bad customer service. Here is my superior's number and extension as well as the number for corporate. They will take all of your concerns seriously. Beyond that, your behavior is erratic and is disturbing other customers. I must ask you to stop." This has a success rate of roughly 15%. This shows that A) There are way too many crackheads in my area and B) You can't reason with a crackhead.

Mr/Ms Nothing Is My Fault- Example: " This is all your fault somehow! Yes, I'm sure I'm at the right location. No, I don't have any of my paperwork! It's your fault I left it at home. What do you mean you have none of my information? You must have lost it!" This individual, much like The Crackhead, cannot be reasoned with. It does not matter that I tracked down where this individual should be (which is 7 out of 10 times not my location. The other three times I will gladly own up to someone on our end screwing up somehow but roughly 25% of that deals with botched communication from the customer. I am still deciding if going with the narrowest or broadest idea of what the customer had in mind is the better option) and it was indeed not my location. It will somehow be my fault and much like Mr/Ms Educated, will waste just as much time before the problem is solved. My ideal response would be: " Wow, I can see your tonsils from here. You know what, screw procedure! I am going to violate every protocol that keeps your information and other people's information safe just because you, special snowflake, deserve whatever you want even if you can't prove who you are or how you paid for this service." The appropriate hasn't got me fired response is " I am sorry you feel an error has been made. I have none of the records associated with your account. This could be our error. Security precautions are in place to protect your information and that of other customers. Without appropriate ID or Paperwork, I cannot help you but I am willing to do what I can to rectify this situation." This response has a success rate of whatever phase the moon is in. It has varied from the customer calming down to the customer throwing a credit card at me (I nearly did get fired that day because I was two seconds from hopping over my counter and being an Antoine Dodson video on youtube somehow).

I am sure somehow this is worth Xp points, but I occasionally feel like I'm rolling 1's instead of 20's (or if you're GURPS inclined 18's instead of 3's). I thank whatever deity that covers this sort of thing for reminding me that very, very, very soon, I start grad school where it will be the same crap, different day, but at least it will be a different day. I hope this little experience will temper me from being these people when I have my 8 doctorates and prescription drug addiction that somehow interferes with my ability to remember that people who deal with cash might like to see ID's. If you folks will excuse me, I am going to go relax. I have to work in the morning and I had better be prepared with a smile because Smiling while debating on if setting a crackhead on fire will get me 10 to 20 is a mildly better option than Frowning with a can of gasoline, a hand full of matches, and a negotiator outside telling everyone to stay cool.

Lollapalooza 2010 or GaGa Blah Blah Blah

So another Lollapalooza has come and gone. Don't tell anyone, but I think I'm getting to old for this shit. Well some of it. I am still perfectly ok with paying 5 bucks for a smoothie. There is much I could talk about but I have to get something off my chest.

There is something wrong with Lady Gaga. Seriously. Note the picture to the right. This was the look on my face through out her whole concert. This picture may have been taken while we were helping her scare fame away. Somewhere around there it occurred to me that we were becoming more retarded every time she spoke to us.Of course, it is entirely possible she thought that we were functionally retarded and thought that yelling things like "You can do anything you want because You're a Superstar Little Monsters!" was encouraging instead of irritating( And Really Gaga, Why set the crowd up for a life time of disappointment? What happens when they discover that by anything you really mean that they can buy another one of your albums so You can do anything while they dream about touching one of your costumes?) Bitch, this isn't Dora the Motherfucking Explorer: "Ok Everyone, can you find my nipple tassels? Everybody cheer!" I didn't really understand why she wanted us to scare fame away for her because last time I checked, that's how she gets paid. Who am I to question her business model of Cocaine Induced costume changes lightly dusted with X induced dance scenes. We decided that to understand the Lady Gaga concert our drug usage had to be directly proportional to her own. We were surrounded by people weeping with joy and exclaiming how revolutionary she is.
Attention Bitches:
This shit was not revolutionary. It was mostly naked and writhing and I can see that on cinimax or whatever channel Martha Stewart is on these days.
Ghandi was revolutionary.
Malcolm X was revolutionary.
Fried Chicken changed my whole life.
If my whole life was changed by a Lady Gaga concert, I would need to seriously re-evaluate my path. At least fried chicken has nutritional value. The Gaga left me devoid emotionally and feeling a little dirty by the end. ( Here is a link of her screaming at us about the fame monster)

Well Little Monsters, I was going to write more but I don't want to sully the good name of Green Day by putting what I have to say about them next to the Fame Monster. If you Little Monsters will excuse me, I'm going to go find the Boulevard of Broken Dreams now.

Hello Anger, my old friend.

I originally planned to write nothing today. My plans have changed a touch because someone very thoughtfully ensured that I am pissed off at 1 am and 5 hours before I have to be up for more mind-numbing repetitive tasks.

Exhibit A: This is a profile at a dating website.
I used this dating website for a while. I deleted my original profile when one raving crazy wouldn't leave me alone. Alas, I still had friends on this website that would frequently send me links to their stuff on said website. Until a few hours ago, this profile sat entirely empty.In fact, until tonight, it didn't even have a picture. As you all can see, I decided to go with a very risque side of face, ear, and hair shot. It has the extra blurry on it to enhance the hotness. I decided, on a very bored whim (extra bored actually), to fill out one sentence on one of the sections of the profile.

That sentence was "I am gloriously flawed."

There was no good reason for it.

Unfortunately, the moment I did this, the site insisted upon me filling out the rest. The site is actually rather adamant about not only having one line. So I filled out the rest for kicks and giggles. As you all can see, the whole first section pretty much says that. Apparently it wasn't said plainly enough for some people but that's what I get for thinking I can write.

My Self-Summary

"This site doesn't like people that do not have much to say.
Don't they know that sometimes the best thing a person could say is nothing at all?
So, I will continue writing in this space to appease the great OKC gods in their servers.
A closed mouth gathers no foot and an empty profile attracts no idiots. "
(You all may notice this has been added to now if you click on the link above)

No wonder I did badly in critical method. My ability to say something without saying something is badly interpreted.

When asked about what I was doing with my life, I put up very real, very serious information:

What I’m doing with my life

Last time I said global domination. I think I should go with knitting this time.

I even made what I thought was a clever little joke since it's a dummy profile:

I’m really good at

answering the wrong question and making people think it has answered the right one.

I thought I was being clever but not clever enough for Sherlock Stones!

The first things people usually notice about me

I'm Nobody! Who are you?

Dear God! I'm putting myself out there like a red light district whore with all that quoting of Dickinson.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

Why is a raven like a writing desk? (I know the man who coined this particular riddle already answered it but I find myself thinking about it all the same.)

Perhaps Sherlock should ask why I might be thinking about that. There's a reason. In fact, Sherlock might be the one person on the whole planet that would understand, or at least that is what I thought.

If Sherlock had paid attention, Sherlock might have noticed that this was a profile full of old blog references, movie references, and jokes that only people that know me would get.

So why am I up explaining myself at 1:00 am?

HEY YOU! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
I didn't deserve what you handed me. If you want to be mad at me about a myriad of other things, feel free. Don't paint me with your brush because it's easier to do that than deal with decisions that have been made.

******edited to add*****
Now that several hours have passed (and one mildly enlightening conversation), Carry on Folks. There is nothing to see here. If you folks will excuse me, I'm off to find a hard cider. 10 am is a perfect time for hard cider!

Happy

Hello there everyone!

As you all may have noticed, there was no blog yesterday.

I intended to blog about my trip to Chicago and especially about the sign I bought from the homeless guy. (Too ugly to prostitute)

Unfortunately, I have come down with a case of Happy.

It's a disgusting little disease. Even more disgusting than the horrifically bad news I got about the injury to my leg.

Symptoms include:
Smiling
Being Chipper
Forgetting that maiming idiots should be at the front of my thoughts
People saying "You sure seem to be in a good mood" (which also means if I end up in a bad mood about something people end up being confused)
Weight Loss!!!!!!!! (this is the only one I can get behind)

So sorry folks. I will have to post pictures of why I am so ridiuclously chipper later. If you folks will excuse me, I am off to spread joy, cheer, happiness. (it's contagious)

Stories from Chicago to follow

Sorry everyone! I have been entrusted with another employee at my job. Why anyone would do this is beyond me. What it means is that the Chicago blog has to wait until I am at home. I also can't find the sign I bought from a homeless guy and let me tell you it's not a trip to Chicago without buying signs from the homeless. If you will excuse me, I have to go be a model employee.