Day 8

Haven't smoked a cigarette in 8 days you guys. It's true what they say, "When you're ready to quit, you'll quit."

High Sierra Brewery

Yeah. This place isn't as bad as I thought it once was.

Occupy this.

(Image provided by www.washingtonstatepolitics.com)

I've been reading about this "Occupy" situation all around the country and I am extremely confused about how this whole thing works. First of all, I'm not one for agreeing with protestors as a general principle as it seems like the least diplomatic avenue to take and is reminiscent of a child throwing a temper tantrum while not being able to express itself in a productive manner. On the flip side, these protests do have the ability to get people interested in the causes for which they stand and, eventually, spread awareness.

But...

This Occupy Wall Street (and the subsequent other "Occupys” around the country) just don't make sense to me. So, I get that these are a bunch unemployed people who are pissed off at Lehman Bros and these bank executives for not receiving their comeuppance for violating business ethics and the laws associated with them. I also get that they are somehow personally offended by the wealth being achieved by the 1% of this country’s population and the juxtaposed stature that is the rest of us. The fact that a bunch of rich guys keep getting richer just seems to incite that “Why not me” mentality that everyone who has never won the lottery feels every morning while waking up earlier than they think they should have to in order to go to a job they don’t like. I get it. They want to be in the 1%.

What I don’t understand is this: Do you honestly think that by blocking traffic and creating massive congestion in hugely populated areas that you are disrupting the lives of that 1% you so staunchly resent? Do you think that by defecating in the streets and in private parks that the uber-rich are somehow writhing in their Sleep-by-numbers beds to the glow of FOX News emanating from their 60” LED televisions inside their multi-million dollar mansions? No. You’re affecting the 99% you are claiming to protect and represent. The man or woman who was told by his/her employer that “One more account of tardiness will lead to some serious trimming”; or that person who needs to pick their sick child up from daycare; or the ambulance that would have made it on time had it not been for the massive semantically oriented “Occupation of Irony”. This entire scenario is a completely misguided attempt at change that, though beginning with the best of intentions and a heart-felt desire to emit transformations for the better, has become a completely embarrassing conglomeration of overly entitled, self righteous children with no sense of the processes of governmental change. They are no better than the greedy bastards that jeopardized the well being of millions in an effort to achieve their personal goals.
Occupy Wall Street my ass. Go occupy a shower and a job interview.

5 Things - Rappers Stories Versus the Real World

What I can understand of these hip hop songs leads me to believe that the most important things in these guy's lives are as follows:

1. Drinking overpriced alcoholic beverages makes women like you.
Truth: Women like to be associated with people who get other women to associate with them. The alcohol you just bought is completely wasted. You could have waited until the club called last call and brought out 200 burritos from Aca Taco and been just as popular.

2. Jets are pussy magnets.
Truth: Girls love the fact that you have a jet because they assume you have tons of money. However, after they are on the plane, these rapper guys realize they are now stuck with a bunch of gold digging whores who, upon arriving to the destination and getting sobered up, are now just getting annoying and need to find their own way back to the LA valley.

3. Telling the masses that you're a "Boss" over and over again makes them think you're actually a "Boss".
Truth: You only retain 7% of the market compensation of the albums you sell. Your only employees are some dudes you went to high school with that work for you in hopes of getting their dicks sucked by that chick who claims she "Beat Herpes", and your accountant makes more money a year than you do.

4. "You're the realest"
Truth: No one has any idea what that means. We just assume you have committed real-world crimes and struggled through robbing people as innocent and unassuming as the suburban Americans who purchased your albums.

5. You have to let us know, "I'm back!!"
Truth: No one knew you were gone. The economy is in the shitter. We've got bills and shit. Just sing something that won't stain my child's innocence while listening to the radio in the car on the way to school.

What to do when you drunkenly spill beer on your groin and then have to walk around.

Here we go. And just to be clear, we're talking jeans here folks, non of this quick wick polyester bullshit. You khaki wearing queers.

1. Excuse yourself to the restroom, diligently scrub your crouch with paper towels until there's nothing but little white bunnies all over your shit and you think it's no longer noticeable.

2. Play it off like you were just THOROUGHLY washing your hands and it's just some "Splash".

3. Spill even more beer all over the table and blame it on that.

4. Actually pee your pants and pray for a sympathy angle from one of the waitresses when you proceed to explain that you lost your ability to control your urinary function while defending our country in the war that you have the most knowledge in.

5. Listen for an obnoxious man yelling from around the room. Walk up to him, say the following, "What's wrong with you!? My name isn't Tony and I don't even know your brother!!". And then force his drink into your lap.

6. Trade the bathroom attendant for his (more than likely) very large shirt and let it hang low.

7. Do like the rest of us and just keep rubbing at it when no one is looking and pray to Christ it dries before someone wants you to stand up and go do something while everyone else remains seated.

End Random Lesson of Life.

How to be depressingly comedic

So, I'm at home. Alone. On a Saturday night. In Nevada. Keep in mind, that's not the punchline to this whole thing.

So, I like to think I have a good amount of friends (approximately 4). After that, I've got a solid dozen people who I think of as acquaintances (it's really more like an additional 4). After that, I've got at least 30 people in my phone that I call on random occasions to rescue me from my pitiful, lonely, existence in this sandbox (that number is closely accurate; however it includes people who have found their way into my phone via random encounters and socially awkward scenarios).

Out of every one of these near and dear contacts, this evening I called ALL of them. Yes, I said it. ALL of them. Tonight. The results go as follows:

Legitimately rang through to voicemail: 14
Intentionally sent to voicemail due to the "Ignore" feature: 18
Picked up and actually wanted to hang out: 1 (Turned out my truck broke down in my drive way on the way to meet up with him. But it was the thought that has automatically made this guy the best man at my wedding).

So, this result can take me down one of two paths. The first resulting in my throwing an iphone through a double pane insulated window.
The second (the road I chose), has inspired me to realize that, though I may be the least important thing going on in 97% of my (local) friends lives, I am going to use this as an opportunity to write tonight. And write. And write.

Feel free to remember the following quote as it is a Daris original,
"No matter how insignificant you may feel at times, you are always more important than the people taking you for granted."

Nevada makes me think about how cool it would be to live in Idaho.

Sooo...I just realized that if you stand in the parking lot of my office building and look East, you see this in the distance:

Yup. That's a sign that reads "The Chocolate Nugget". Apparently it's a candy factory of some sorts that I can only imagine is run by dark skinned oompa loompas with duelling gambling and hard drug addictions.

Then, when I look West from the parking lot...

That would be the famed "Bunny Ranch" of Mound House Nevada. Now, granted these pictures are bit closer than what I actually see from here, but not by much. And, it's the principle of the scenario.

My office is situated directly in between a Whore House and a Chocolate Nugget.

Don't believe me, go ahead, Google it.
Feel better about your own job? Thought so.