. . . . . . . The Daily Blarf

Friday, December 31, 2004

to prove to my brother dan that The Swede does exist:

actually, i suppose this doesn't prove much of anything. i guess it could prove that i am great with photoshop. or that i paid some hot blonde chick to pose for a picture with me at the Cornell Plantations. or something. (he claims that she must not exist since both pictures of her that i've posted previously look nothing like each other.)


happy new year, blarfees!

tonight i was unexpectedly up north for my family's new year's eve dinner, which i have missed the last few years. one of the things we like to do is make new year's predictions rather than resolutions. we read off last years predictions, document whether or not they came true, and then make new ones. for 2002 and 2003, my brothers predicted that i would turn down a job with the fire department. this did not come true--i was never offered the job to be able to turn it down. for 2004, matt predicted that i would make it into the state police academy. wishful thinking--unfortunately not reality. for '05, he predicted i would get this new job (which will remain unnamed) to which i replied, "DON'T JINX IT!" --mom struck that prediction from the record.

after dinner, i got back to syracuse right before midnight--too late to make it anywhere; too early to sleep. so i guess it's a good time to blog blarf while watching a mix of Regis at time's square and leno's new year's show. it's just not the same without dick clark! no fear; Triumph The Insult Comic Dog is up next on Conan. and tomorrow: all of you people who have been waiting hungrily for christmas cards, they will finally be completed started.

the evening's funny story* which has no doubt been embellished with each telling:

the addition to the family store has been going along well--until today when the roofers got their panties in a twist:
after taking an hour and a half lunch break, one of the roofers was assigned to clean-up duty around the worksite as punishment. apparently this is the absolute most insulting thing a roofer could be told to do, because the offender picked up a 2x4 and told the foreman something to the effect of "why don't you come down here..." before he could finish that statement, the other roofers started marching down the ladder to come kick his ass. so the guy dropped the 2x4, jumped in his pickup, locked the doors, threw it in reverse, and, in his scramble to escape, backed into the foreman's truck. upon seeing this, the foreman (who was still on the roof) whipped his tin snips at the guy's truck, which impaled themselves in the truck's hood as he hauled ass out of the driveway.

--musta been a sight to see. wish i'd been there for it.

after it was all over, the guy got his job back (did i mention he got fired for this?)

*i take no credit for this humorous story--it is totally true (to my knowledge anyway) and i'm just relaying it to you for your own enjoyment. enjoy.


2004: The Year Of "SUCK IT EASY"

2004 could have been better. it could have been worse. i could have had a real job. instead, i had three. actually four, if you include DJing. i coulda payed down my bills. but instead my pristine credit rating received a good old-fashioned piss-pounding. i coulda gotten into the state police academy. but if i had, i might never have reconnected with The Swede--and that would have been bad--and i would have never even known what i was missing. overall, i guess i can't complain. i'm not dead. i'm not sick. my family is healthy and growing. The Swede is hopefully packing her bags for the states right now. and the job situation should be improving soon.

2005 should turn out pretty well, i think.

stay tuned; there's always more blarf cooking. i've got post-it blarf notes (Blarf-It Notes?) all over hell. i know you're sitting there clicking "refresh" waiting for more. keep clicking.

time for bed. tired as a donkey. (as The Swede says.)

(i love saying that--SWEDE SWEDE SWEDE. it's fun.)

Sunday, December 19, 2004

if you see either of these men, please detain them and contact the Blarf immediately. any clues leading to locating these individuals will result in Blarf Points for tipsters.


ben's totally random, pointless, yet somewhat heartwarming story of the day:

today i was doing laundry, which made me think back on my days as a freshman in Onieda Hall at SUNY Morrisville, waaaay back in the fall of 1996. my high school friend Ick and i lived together on the first floor. (ick--in the background of the above photo--is a whole 'nuther story we won't get into here.) anyway, we'd often be down in the laundry room, waiting for clothes and playing pool across the hallway. the machines were almost always full so everyone would take everyone else's stuff out of the dryers and leave it in a heap on top. for some reason, ick and i started folding the laundry that we took out of the dryers--probably because we were good mama's boys who did things like that. when we'd come back from dinner or wherever, we'd be happy to find that our clothes had been folded too! so the favors continued. pretty soon it seemed like the whole building was folding each other's laundry. the weird thing was, we didn't even know each other. you could be eating fajitas in the dining hall next to the person who folded your knickers and you wouldn't even know it. everyone in Onieda Hall had wrinkle-free clothes, thanks to ick and me . . .

. . . and no doubt everyone with a panty fetish had open-season on the lady's undies.

Merry Christmas!

~the Blarf

Thursday, December 16, 2004

today was my birthday.

it could have been like this:

They say it's your birthday
It's my birthday too, yea
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you
~Beatles 'Birthday'

or perhaps like this:

go go go go go go go shawty
its ya birthday
we gonna party like its ya birthday
we gonna sip bicardi like its ya birthday
and u know we dont give a **** that its ya birthday
~50 Cent 'In Da Club'

but it was more like this:

Every dog has its day every day has its way
Of being forgotten -
Mom it's my birthday
What would you say
~Dave Matthews Band 'What Would You Say'

yes, it is indeed true. my mother doesnt love me anymore. she didnt call her youngest son on his birthday.

other than the total diss by my mother, it was a good day. joanna was the first to wish me happy birthday--at midnight last night. my aunt called and sang happy birthday at 7:25 am. the guys at work said happy birthday and one of them even got me a birthday cake pie. the home office sent me a "on this day in history" birthday thingie. my supervisor bought me lunch at hooters for my birthday. grandma pulled off a coup by getting a birthday card here today. silvia, the italian penpal, sent me a birthday text message. mark said happy birthday yesterday. my sister-in-law called tonight with a happy birthday. some random chick named diane sent me an e-birthday card. (i'm thinking that was joanna punking me, but i'm not sure. or maybe it was diane p.--not sure.) i got a bunch of email birthday wishes. the volleyball team said happy birthday. i even got a birthday note from the Jeep Scrambler Forum, of all places.

but nothing from mommy.


so much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to saaaaay.


i decided against going out after volleyball tonight in favor of saturday night partying. (duty calls at 7:30 am tomorrow.)

--more blarf later.

just kidding, mom... i guess.

Monday, December 06, 2004

there's something about wearing a new suit that makes a man feel like a man. it makes you feel positively Bad Ass.

and that's exactly what i needed today for the interview.

it's about time i got a suit. all i've ever had is poor-fitting blazers and khakis and crap. now: the navy blue suit. a must for any man.

two Blarf Points each to anyone who: 1. can spot my fashion faux pas in the above photo, and 2. identify the dots in the sky in the background. answers should be posted in the comments. and one Bonus Blarf Point to anyone who knows what the interview was for--but you can keep that answer to ya-self. ********s need not answer question 2, as it is too easy for them.

(Blarf Points have no cash value.)

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

"thanks, MTV, for pimping my life!" --Ben

after watching the first episode, season II of Pimp My Ride on MTV, i am convinced yet again that i need a career that exploits my creative talent and my love of cars. my current job is just fine--i manage a car repair shop. and the previous job was helpful too--selling cars. before that, i was managing a detail shop.


but it seems like i'm working backwards, both financially and career-wise.

to be happy with your career, you really have to find a job that isn't a job. something that you wake up in the morning and actually want to get out of bed for. something you don't mind staying late to finish. something that you focus on so intently that you catch yourself drooling.

i've had those things before, just not now. at least for now i can keep telling myself that everything i'm doing is preparing me for a future in whatever i want to do. i scan the classifieds each sunday in hopes of finding that very future, but all i find is jobs that call for people to be Somebody Else's Bitch doing something i probably wouldn't enjoy because i'd be working for someone else's benefit and playing by someone else's rules.

later that night while lying in bed for hours staring at the ceiling, i again conjured up all these crazy ideas about going back to college for Automotive Restoration (yes, that is a major!) or Hot Rod school.. or something. but with the current financial sinkhole that i'm in, anything but staying in the rat race is completely out of the question.

is it selfishness? am i a perfectionist? am i not willing to pay my dues by working for someone else? or is it simply ok to want exactly what i want out of a job and have the sole benefactor be ME and MY future family, instead of my efforts benefiting a boss? is it okay to dislike the corporate, one-size-fits-all mentality?

perhaps i've simply read too many issues of Professional Carwashing & Detailing magazine.

a detail shop would suit me just fine. one with several bays. with an automatic car wash. landscaping out front. impeccable grounds. an asphalt driveway so clean you could eat off of it. a car lift for doing some tinkering and customizing. a couple cars for sale out front. customers who enjoy spending their money on the work i'm peddling.

and i want to be the one with the keys to the building. i want to call the shots. i want to decide the direction my company takes. i want to choose my suppliers. my employees. my services. i want to choose the station we play on the shop radio. everything. i want to play Small Business Owner, like i did as a kid with the "Pop Shop" back home on the farm.

ahh, the Pop Shop. as kids, we had a wooden storefront next to the garage on the farm--kinda like lucy's psychiatric help desk in peanuts. this was where my brothers and i pretended to sell sodas, groceries, and random tractor parts to anyone who would walk by (mainly grandma, mom and dad.) it was my first taste of entrepreneurism. it was also the time i slashed my thumb open on one of those old-school oil cans with the metal lids. it bled like hell.

i digress.

the Pop Shop was the start of it all, i think. as i got older, the Pop Shop faded into memory, especially when someone unloaded some boiler plate on top of it and crushed the fucker flat with the earth. that was the end. but not the end of my entrepreneurial spirit.

anyone want to invest in my business? anyone? *crickets chirping*