There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Yard guy, ambivalence, and fat.

I am quite certain that the dude who mows my yard is ripping me off, so I am going to spend some time tonight doing some forensic accounting. One of the main problems I have with him is that he usually has his crew come by when I'm hung over (i.e., on a weekend), so I just pay him what he says I owe him without checking to make sure he isn't charging me for five weekends in a four weekend month. I could just get off my fat arse and mow the grass myself, but my lawnmower doesn't work and I'm too apathetic to have it fixed.

Work sucks even more than usual lately. I no longer feel a connection to our corporate core values, leaving a void inside me that I've been trying to fill with cheese. Suddenly I have a Tolerance for Errors, an Ambivalence toward Winning, and I find the customer a bit extraneous to the whole process. I want to solve problems in either three or eight steps, I want to lead ineffective meetings, and I think that we should focus more on the person than on the problem. I am now a Mediocrity Champion. Sigh.

So, I don't really know who I want to win Hell's Kitchen. I have a feeling it will be Michael, but he and Ralph are neck and neck right now. Both of them are somewhat slimy but likeable, so I'm torn. Ralph's fiance is quite a bimbo. Not that that's a plus or a minus.

I really need a vacation and I really want to go to the beach but I am just too damned fat at the moment to even contemplate swimming in anything other than a caftan, which puts a crimp in the beach plans and could cause unsightly drowning. When you have nooks and crannies for sweat to pool up in, being at the beach is just a reminder that you're a big ol' lard ass. I used to have a slow metabolism, but now I have none. Diet and exercise cause me to get fatter. Air causes me to get fatter. Not that the cheese helps, but hell, it's Atkins-friendly. If I believed in that stuff.

So, it seems that a small contingent from the UK office where I attempted to work for six months is coming over here to see what the upstart Yanks are doing. It seems (correct me if I'm wrong, BlanketMan) that my much-reviled ex-boss, the lesbian who married and spawned, is coming along. She hasn't bothered to contact me since I left, probably because I left early while she was out of town, but jeezy kreezy, I was A) told to do so by my real boss, and B) going to commit some sort of homicidal rampage if I didn't get out of there. So how do I handle this awkward meeting? Am I cool, sophisticated, and icily calm? Or am I warm and friendly, giving her a big unwanted bear hug and a lot of gushy fakeness? Or do I just curl up my chubby little fist and pop her like she deserves? She did call me a "crude Texan," so perhaps I can ask her to hold my spit cup during a meeting. I bet she pees standing up.

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