JoRb!

It can't be long now.  The job is in the cross hairs and it's only a matter of time before I snap and leave in a huff.  Nothing new there.  It's like coming here in comment land and expecting genius.  It's just not going to fly.  Thus, by announcing I plan on giving this employment the boot, we can only assume the morons will be out in full force complaining about how I can't stay at a job for blah cubed and my work ethic is wanh wanh wanh.  So let it out freaks.  Just get that bad stuff out and maybe you'll feel better about yourself.

I'm missing the morsel.  She's away for a few days and as the smell of her hair begins to flitter away from my pillow the thumping becomes a bit more distinct in my innards.  Apparently, although unadmitted by either party, we're beginning to look like a couple.  The Mecklenburg looked at us and asked the now typical question, "How long have you been together?" The new answer seems to be "We've been married for six years because that's what the past two months have felt like at times."

Let's just say after a heavy battle of insults via text one day and threats to never speak again, all the while, well, speaking to each other, regardless of intent, it seems we've found a happy level of something to be determined later or to never be determined if you ask her.  I don't know what it is but I know I miss that girl like crazy.  You should have seen the dress she wore as my birthday gift.  It was mind boggling, traffic stopping and in those heels the sexiest legs in the world became other worldly.  I have it on video and in photo form but I won't share with you pigs. 

Besides, I have to go to work.  That really blows goats.

Posted by: The ZaZ on Wednesday, August 06 at 12:57 | Comments (0) | Permalink

Wuv

You're lookin' at two dirty mother*beep*ers.

It's a daily race to see who won't shower first.

Anyway:

The Wuv is starting to pour in, along with the cigarettes and money. Birthdays are funny. I think they mean more to other people than to the actual participant. I feel like Bilbo. But hey, if you're going to be pelted with ciggies and cash one day per year it might as well be the day of reckoning from when you started your nightmare here.

The Wuv is going out as well. There's a solid 5 pack of ladies all in the window of ZaZ affection and I don't mean this in any form of coital relation, although 2 are seriously suffering inevitability juxtaposed with impossibility, one's a future appointment, while the other two are therapy sessions and thus not applicable combined with some serious want. But at least I have some feelings. I've been dead inside before and the king of the Sex Camels and that's all well and good for preservation but to really enjoy life, it has become apparent, at least recently, to me, the opposite gender plays a significant role in my own happiness. In fact, between you and I, I think I like the girls better than you fellas.

Sure, the pervs and closeted tough guys out there are filling their heads with idiocy. The smart guys and the ladies know of which I speak. I'm willing to scratch my nuts, drink beer and watch the game anytime. This is of no refute. But I can feel that guy bowing to the caresses of the fairer sex or even just a bunch of drinks and a couple smooches. It's funny, you try to kill romance and it may die, but that fucker will rise like a phoenix and come back and kick your ass. I think it's the age, as well. I discussed this with the Cackler last night. The older I get the nicer I get. I have this extra empathy and a lot of Wuv to give, especially to those who so clearly are suffering without it. I get stomped on and I forgive almost instantaneously. It may take a couple days to get through the grudge but where this once would have lasted what seemed like a lifetime, it now appears the opposite.

At first, I thought it was more constructive apathy but I've begun to realize that I do care. In fact, I care a lot. I've always cared a lot but our retarded society belittles those who care or waits for them to die before bestowing sainthood. We all know I'm no saint. In fact, there are humans who claim I'm the devil. But even the devil has a heart and I bet if you got to know him, you'd realize he causes so much damage because that heart he has is broken. Lucky for me, mine isn't. It causes me stress because it will throw itself around with little care for its own protection and there's always the chain smoking.

It's like one of the loveliest ladies I know said in comment land two posts ago. "I'd way fuck the ZaZ over your sorry ass any day :)" I like that. It has a nice ring to it. But I'm not even saying your ass is sorry. In fact, I don't even really get mad about the inanities which seem to always pervade my blog. The haters. Go on; keep hating. I don't care. Wait, I do and I just want you to be happy. So chill out and be nicer to the women in your lives. It's amazing what gifts they can bestow and I'm not talking about just their hoohaws you fuckstix. Then again, you probably can't make 'em laugh as much as I can and thus are at a disadvantage. You poor bastards.

Hi ladies.

Posted by: The ZaZ on Thursday, July 31 at 9:00 | Comments (3) | Permalink

The Fools

Amazing how you drop a few lines about work biting the kilbasa and the slaves jump out of the woodwork to defend what they see as a lifetime of acceptable slavery.  Sober Tuesday brought disc one of David Icke courtesy of Sancho and a more truthful representation of the make believe world around us I've yet to see this year.

Speaking of the passing year, the 37th anniversary of the birth of ZaZ is nigh upon us and to celebrate I am not drinking for the remainder of the week, may participate in a few cocktails on the 3rd and 4th.  However, as something totally different to start the new ZaZ year, I'm going to go to work on my birthday.  Never done that before.  May still call in at the last moment.  But as of now, I'm saying to hell with the celebration.  It's just a Monday.

In lieu of cards, cakes or even drinks.  Send money, cigarettes and food.

Posted by: The ZaZ on Wednesday, July 30 at 12:05 | Comments (0) | Permalink

Work is for Stiffs

Dear Boss,

You, my friend, are a coward.  You accept any lie which puts you on the side of saying thank you.  What a joke.  Your superior has the management skills of the row master on some B.C. galley sans whip.  How either one of you awaken each day, look in the mirror and live with the first thought of, "I'm going to go out there and D-Bag the hell out of this joint today," is beyond me.  How can you care so much about a place so meaningless?  You're pathetic.  You're American and it's a fucking shame.  By the way, I won't be able to make it into work today.  You see, I'm too drunk/hungover, at the lake with a pretty girl and just don't see how completing redundant tasks for your pittance even comes close to dropping a few gallons of gas in the pontoon and having a Coor's Banquet.  So, please, boss man, don't run off and go fuck yourself.  Please, for me, do it right now.

Word.
Z

Posted by: The ZaZ on Friday, July 25 at 11:17 | Comments (9) | Permalink