When You...

That moment...

We Own A House... Now What?

Twenty days in and this is only my first post for the new year. Good thing I didn't go and make a resolution about blogging more consistently for 2015... heh... heh... (*scratches "blog more consistently" off New Year's resolution list*). In my defense, it's mostly because we don't have internet set up at the new place yet. That and we're now so far away from civilization even our data coverage is close to non-existent most of the day.

So, yes, as you may have picked up, we have moved and have now officially joined the ranks of "homeowners". Now we just have to clear off that mortgage over the next thirty years or so and it's all ours. Just in time for the kids to kick us out into a retirement home and start fighting over it.

Can't wait.

As cool as it is to finally become a homeowner, in the end you still have to go through the whole process of moving and that's always fun. Isn't it? (NOTE: By "fun" I actually mean a huge barrel of suck... You probably already knew that.) You have your packing, heavy lifting, unpacking, exhaustion, aches, pains and stuff that gets broken. Yeah... fuuuuunn! (See earlier note.) We did that over the Christmas weekend which means we were too busy doing all that stuff I mentioned earlier and too broke to really celebrate Christmas (alcohol was consumed, though).

When the dust settled and we finally got some sleep (about a week after we moved in), we then had time to sit and take it all in.

Homeowners...

Us!

The novelty wears off soon enough though. Right around the time when you realize the last ounce of dependency you had on others is gone. Before, if you lived with your parents or, as in our case, you were a renter, you knew there would be certain things beyond your control. Leaky roof? call the landlord! Faulty plumbing? Get that landlord on the phone! Pest infestation? Better get the landlord to call in an exterminator.

Now we're on our own, when it comes to taking care of our house and all of its needs. If you stop to think about it too long it can be a little daunting. Needless to say, I'm trying not to think about it too much (seems like a viable strategy...)

Speaking of which, that leaking (READ AS: "gushing") shower faucet issue I mentioned the last time, yeah, we're trying to sort that out. Surprisingly, the agency responsible for the houses is actually saying they'll arrange to have the contractors come in and sort it out. Now we just have to see how long that takes to happen.

In other news: Kawaii's adjusting well after the move. She did get really sick the first night and we were more than a little worried but she eventually pulled through and, a few days later, she was back to her old self (cue the obligatory cute puppy pic). 

"I know you trimmed around my eyes like half an hour ago but... it grew back."

Unlike at the old place, where she spent all her time indoors due to our former neighbors', not-so-friendly (or clean) dogs that already occupied the yard, here she gets to go out every day (on a leash until we put a fence up). I've even started taking her for walks around the block (I feel so suburban now you would not believe), which she loves.

She's also taken an interest in the of local wildlife (READ AS: "bugs") which our new area has in copious amounts. And, since they often find their way inside the house, she has plenty of opportunities to examine them... after she chases them down, swats them to death with her paws and - of they're big enough - tears to shreds with her teeth.

Wait! Is that a cricket?

She's a curious girl.

Speaking of wildlife, we also have birds in the area. Lots of birds. Birds that are mostly quiet in the day but then there are these others that let out loud, eerie "squawks" throughout the night. We don't go outside much at night. As luck would have it, among the various species we also have my arch nemeses, Grackles.

Look at 'em! Just strutting around my backyard like they own the place... Send help.

At some point I really started to wonder if someone was just f*cking with me.

Anyway, their mating season is still a few months away so they don't have a reason to start attacking people yet. So there's that.

On the plus side, at the outer end the street leading into the community there are horses.

Those are cool.

One of the biggest adjustments, though, is that this an entirely new community. We were among the first two hundred plus people to get keys and everyone's new here and only moved in weeks apart from each other. That means none of us got treated to one of those scenes you see in the movies where the local community group forms a welcoming committee to bring you baked goods to mask their real objective of scoping out your stuff.

I want a blueberry muffin, dammit!

Instead, we all just get to watch silently as we observe another moving truck roll up the street and hope the whoever-it-is isn't planning on starting a meth lab in his/her kitchen or blasting Jamaican Dancehall music every night until 3AM (it's popular here).

The adventure begins.

If We Were Friends.

Dealing.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: I burn up my quota of swear words for the next few months in this one.)

DAMMIT! I HATE THIS!!! IHATEITIHATEITIHATEITIHATEIT!!!

GAAAAH!!!

That’s how I feel right now. Like some fucking spoiled brat, throwing a tantrum. A very foul-mouthed brat. Why? Because I get depressed sometimes, that’s why? And I hate it.

I mentioned it before, but some of you may not know/remember. I was in banking about four years ago. I was a loans officer and, mostly and I fucking hated it. Then I lost that job – mostly because of my own screw-ups – and had been bouncing around from one place to another, never able to hold down a job for more than six months. The economy was in a slump, banks weren't hiring and it took months to finally find a temporary clerical gig in a small office that paid less than half the income I was making before. That’s how the next three years would go for me. Brief stints of employment here and there, followed my months of unemployment.

As a result of this – maybe even before it (HELL! I don’t know!) – I realized I would go into these “funks” from time-to-time. The worst of it was right after I lost my job at the bank. Back then it was full-on, curl-in-the-fetal-position-under-the-covers-day-after-day depression.

Should I keep calling it that? I've never been officially diagnosed. "Real" therapy's expensive, you know. All I know is it was like a hole had opened up inside me. I felt like something was missing. Like there were things that should be there that just weren't. I remembered, even before things ended with the bank, I questioned whether the road I was on was really the one I should be taking.

As time went on I learned to deal. Or, at least, to look like I was dealing.

Eventually, I started blogging and that seemed to help a lot.

But that hole never went away. When problems started to pile up, there it was, shrouding me and swallowing me up again. True, it wasn't as bad as before. I’d lose interest in things and stop being productive to the point where every task felt burdensome. I literally have to force myself to “function”.

But things are different now. Right? I mean I've been employed since last February. First, with TinyCo – the company that seemed destined to fold at any minute but didn't – and now with the government. My income now isn't anywhere close to what I made in banking but it’s the best it’s been in years. There’s just no reason those old feelings of emptiness to be bother me anymore.

So where the hell did the last week of my life go?

That’s what I fucking hate the most about my “thing”. It’s a creeper. It's a bitch-assed, sneaky kind of gloominess and I never know when it's going to hit or even that I’m going through it. That is, until it comes to a head (or the shit hits the fan). I go into force-function mode and my sporadic bursts of energy during that time allow me to make it through each day with just enough effort to even fool myself and keep drifting along.

I don't know how I got to this state. Sure, life isn't perfect now that my job worries have eased up. I've still been taking a hit or two as a result of our finances going into disarray when I was unemployed. But... Shit, I don’t know!

I know what some of you are thinking. I should talk to someone. I think that's part of the problem. Aside from my wife, there aren't that many people I can talk to. I love her, but there are some things I'm not comfortable talking to her about. Let's not even get into family. I'm a Christian (maybe not the best example of one, but I am), as I may have mentioned and most of my family are as well. But if I have to deal with the cookie-cutter "Go deeper into prayer" answers, I may end up saying some very un-Christian things to them (Don't believe I can? Go back and read some of what I wrote in this post alone.)

The fog is lifting for now, though. I'm just really, REALLY pissed it happened again. Sorry to just spring this on you all. I just needed to vent and since I can't afford therapy and I'm too much of a loner to have "real life" friends to bitch to, the blog is the only place I can pour all this out.

I'l try to be funny next time.

END. RANT.

Snowball.

I knock on the Divisional Director’s door and walk in...

Me: Good morning. You have a minute?

Divisional Director (DD): Sure, Vinny, have a seat. What’s up?

Me: It’s about those reports you assigned me to update for my department. There’s a slight problem.

DD: Problem?

Me: Well, I was about to fill in my part of one of the shared files, sheet 15, when I realized it hasn't been filled in by any of the other departments. Since the data’s supposed to be in order I can’t add my part yet.

DD: Hmm... Sheet 15? But that’s supposed to be one of the most active files! It shouldn't be blank.

I show her a photocopy I had with me.

DD: It hasn't been filled in since November! Sigh! You see what I have to deal with, Vinny?

Me: ...

DD: Who fills in the other sets of data?

Me: *shrugs* I asked Strategic Analyst Girl.

She really is pretty kickass at preparing flowcharts, though.

All she did was sigh, shake her head and mutter something about them not being the “best fit”.

DD: We should ask the IT Manager who she has working on this.

Just then, the IT Manager appears outside the Director’s door.

I’m not kidding.

IT Manager (ITM): Excuse me, DD, you busy? I need to find out about that company phone the ex-employee has…

DD: Vinny already did the letter to the phone company. Come on in! There’s something we need to ask you too.

ITM: Was the letter sent?

DD: No. We need some info Strategic Analyst Boy is working on. That reminds me, Vinny. We need to set up another meeting for the project. I’ll let you assemble the team and make all the arrangements.

Me: Okay… But weren't Strategic Analyst Girl and Strategic Analyst Boy working on something for that?

DD: Oh, that’s right! Follow up with them after we’re done here and see when we can schedule it then.

Our talk was over soon after that. DD had suggested I take over ALL the data input for that file for ALL the departments to prevent another tie-up.

I was not pleased.

Anyway, as instructed, I went over to the Hall of Strategy. I asked Strategic Analyst Girl when she thought she and Strategic Analyst Boy would be ready with their presentation. She assured me they would be done by the end of the week.

Strategic Analyst Girl: By the way, about that thing you asked me earlier…

I think we should consult a higher power.

Me: You don’t mean..?

Strategic Analyst Girl: Yes. Let’s ask my boss, the Senior Strategist.

Me: Um... You know what? That quite alrig-

Strategic Analyst Girl: *knocks on door* Greetings, master. *enters and prostrates*

Senior Strategist: WHO DARES!?!

Strategic Analyst Girl: Forgive me, M'lord. The one called Vinny C desires an audience.

Me: Actually, I'm fine. I think I got it handled...

Senior Strategist: Ah, Vinny. Come! Come!

Me: Hey... 'Sup?

To spare you the details, the Senior Strategist said it was probably best I take over the updating sheet 15 all by myself. Again, this did not please me. I leave his lair office and two seconds later...

Strategic Analyst Girl: Vinny! Vinny C! The Senior Strategist has summoned you once more!

I return and there, sitting at his desk, was the IT Manager. How the hell she appeared there was beyond me, since there’s only one way in and out of that department and we didn't pass each other when I was leaving.

Senior Strategist: Vinny, ITM tells me you prepared the letter to disconnect the ex-employee's company cell?

Me: Um... Yeeeeah?

Senior Strategist: Well, we need to put a hold on it until we get some more facts straight.

He summons his minions, Strategic Analyst Girl and Strategic Analyst Boy. They appear and prostrate themselves.

Senior Strategist: Strategic Analyst Boy, have you gathered the information I seek?!

Strategic Analyst Boy: Um... Well, M'lord... At first I sought to-

Strategic Analyst Girl: Answer the man, fool!

Strategic Analyst Boy blubbers and stutters for several more seconds before falling silent. Senior Strategist proceeds to tear him a new one, while I wonder why I ever got up from my desk in the first place.

Senior Strategist: Vinny, I know you’re busy, but could you do me a favor?

The Art of the Stick.

You know how sometimes you can put your foot in your mouth and say you're going to do something because, at the time, you totally thought you could do it and you didn't see the harm in saying it for other people to know that particular thing is what you intended to do only you ended up not doing it and felt kinda bad because you went and drew attention to yourself?

*deep breath*

Well, that's what happened to me last year. You see, last year, blogger and artist extraordinaire, Mynx of Lizard Happy had her Art for Art giveaway. The idea was for you to submit a painting, drawing, photo, poem, or any other form of art. Heck! She even said a doodle on a napkin would be accepted. Then, she picks one randomly and that person wins one of her actual works of art. When I saw that, I foolishly commented on her post that I was tempted to give it a go... And I ended up chickening out and doing nothing. I mean, me? ART?! From... me? THE PRESSURE!!! All I have are my big-boobied stick-toons.

Anyway, this year she's having it again and again I said I'd probably... maybe... sorta consider submitting something (I know! I never learn). I guess part of the plan was to force myself to commit to doing it. Then time went by and again nothing happened.

Until today.

This time, only four days before the deadline to submit, I sucked it up, sat myself down, put mouse to mouse pad and got my tooning on. This year, my stick toons get artsy. BEHOLD!

Of  course Lacy's boobs in it! What were you expecting? Did you forget whose blog you stumbled onto?

For those of you who aren't acquainted with my stick minions history, old Steven up there is Diane's boyfriend and the first time I drew them (or any stick-toon, as a matter of fact) was when he had also gotten himself in trouble for paying too much attention Lacy's boobs (which is also why he now has to wear a mustache). Talk about never learning.

Wordless Wednesday: Battling With School Work.

Social Interaction - Trust Issues.

I have trust issues. I seldom let my guard down around most people I interact with, because I don't want to leave an opening they can exploit. I'm not exactly sure where they come from, but I know there have been a lot of times this mistrust has come in handy. In fact, more times than not, I've found that people will try to exploit an opening if you leave one, so it's safe to say I won't be letting my guard down anytime soon.

People are dicks!

One of the trust issues I've found is most prevalent within me is that I have a problem accepting help from others. It's not that I think I can always do it on my own or I think, if I let someone help me, they're most likely going to screw whatever it is up and I'll end up having to do everything myself anyway, or anything. Well... Maybe I do a little... Maybe more than a little...

Okay, I'll be honest, maybe all of those things do contribute to my problems accepting help from people, but none of them are the main reason for it. The reason I really have a problem with it is because I would feel obligated to them. I don't like owing people (odd, considering how severely in-debt I am). I feel like, should I accept an offer from someone to help me with something, then they'll need help with something themselves one day and I won't be able to turn them down.

Don't get me wrong! I help people. In fact, I've been known to go a lot out of my way to help others. This is most likely a symptom of my other problem of having trouble saying "no", but the fact is, I still help people. Let's not get overly caught up in unnecessary details. Okay?

Anyway, being indebted to someone just makes the whole saying no thing harder. It gives me just one more excuse to feel guilty about it, so I try to eliminate that guilt by not putting myself in a position to own anyone anything.

Makes sense, right?

That aside, I also worry that the favor I have to do in return will be some huge task that's going to put me out and is most likely hugely disproportionate to the favor that person did for me.

DON'T GIVE ME THAT LOOK! How could it be even remotely fair if I ask someone hold a door open for me, because my hands are full and in return, they expect me go on all the way to the other side of town to pick them up something or on some other kind of epic journey?

So... yeah. I'm a bit hesitant to owe people favors.

What's also weird is I don't remind people of when I do things for them (I know! I'm like a saint or something). I can't think of a single time I said to anyone, "Remember the time I helped you?" At least, not out loud anyway. I never said I don't remember when I helped someone out. Even if they pretend they don't.

Oddly enough, this reluctance to be indebted to others is a common trait held among the people of Japan (yet another reason for me to believe I'm slowly becoming one of them). This is something I only learned recently and I mention it in my post today on Sprocket Ink.

Imagine that...

In that post I talk about the great lengths one guy goes to so he can help the people who would rather say "no, thank you". All you have to do is click here (No, no! Sorry! Site gone away now!) and you can see for yourselves what I'm talking about.

I mean-! Only if you want to! It's not like I'm asking you for any favors, or anything. It's totally your call. I mean, I'd click a link if you guys asked me to, but this isn't about what I'd do for you and there are no strings attached. Nope, none whatsoever.

My Brain Can't Ever Be Left Unsupervised.

Sunday morning I was lying in bed, trying to force myself to go back to sleep, I hate getting up too early on a weekend and since I had no intention of getting up before at least Monday I decided I’d just lie there until sleep came back.

That has to work sometimes right?

Anyway, I was lying there and I decided to let my brain go on ahead and do whatever it wanted without me in the hope that it would be too distracted to notice when sleep crept back in. I tried not to focus on any kind of actual thought so it would get all excited and start thinking. Brains are like that. They always want to think at inappropriate times like when you’re trying to go to sleep. But it was during this time of letting my brain get distracted with all kinds of random thoughts, that this thought in particular suddenly happened.

“I bet I could totally kill a chicken!”

Yeah...

With that, my brain had something to latch on to and all hopes of sleep were gone.

Before you start wondering, there was an actal train of thought that led me to this statement. It’s not like I lie awake, thinking of who or what I’d be able to kill.

Beat up, maybe, but not kill.

Of course, even I had to retrace my brain’s steps to figure out where this thought in particular came from, since I wasn’t really paying attention to what it was doing. When I was able to get to the original thought that set this train in motion, it all made perfect sense.

“It’s all the internet’s fault I don’t get enough sleep.”

See? That makes things a whole lot clearer now, doesn’t it? If you’re not following (and I don’t see how you couldn’t be) I’ll break it down for you. It’s like this:

To date, the internet as we all know, is one of the greatest advances in technology known to man. I dare say it ranks right up there with double-sided tape and the Japanese Butter Stick.

The internet is also the greatest distraction known to man. One of my lecturers even said that the internet is also guilty of diminishing the attention span of today’s society. At least, I think that’s what he said. The dude was going on and on and I was starting to get bored. He really needs to learn how to take his rants down to 140 characters or less.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. Chickens!

See, with the internet being the distraction it is, I more often than not, find myself choosing stay awake just a little bit longer so I can keep up with all the fun distractions the worldwide web has to offer. When I end up exhausted as a result, I sometimes wonder what the world would be like, not just without it, but without all the other newfangled doodads we have and the entire way of life to which we’ve grown accustomed.

I'd imagine there was some kind of apocalyptic event which would basically send us all back to the stone-age, technology wise. There’d be no more smartphones, or television, or any other of the modern conveniences and we didn’t have a choice but to actually “go outside” and “do things”. Of course, there’d be no fast food restaurants or convenience stores either, so finding food would require actually finding your own food... and possibly killing it and cooking it all on your own too.

This is where the chickens would come in. I figured at least a few of them would probably survive the apocalypse and unless there was some kind of radioactive mutation issue and chickens became vicious, man-eating beasts, I think  those would be easy enough to take on.

Or not...

Of course, I went on to formulating the proper technique for getting the job done with minimal blood spatter and creepy headless panicked bird running around. Then I thought about what the best way would be to get all the feathers off. I wasn’t sure, but figure I’d better look that up before the apocalypse took Google away.

That's how I came to the conclusion that I totally could do if I had to. I just need the circumstances to be just right for me to rise to the occassion.

I Made You A Gif.

This is my first ever attempt at a moving cartoon. Just a simple gif, but I thought I'd start with that.

The inspiration came from my job at TinyCo (as you can probably guess). It's basically how I spend most of my day there after my the boss's daily chewing out session.

By the way, did you know GIF is really supposed to be pronounced JIF? The creator of the format said so the other day.

The more you know...

Oh and if you're in the mood for something more, feel free to go to my post from yesterday on Sprocket Ink. It's about how far one guy in Japan went to protect his porno habit. It's funny (if I do say so myself) and there's a picture Japanese bikini model in it. What more could you ask for?

The Modern Life Of A Trend.

1. The Trendsetter:

Often the first person given attention for displaying a new trend, the trendsetter may be a celebrity, or even an average individual caught in the right place at the right time.

2. The Virus:

This, of course, refers to the act of "going viral" by the new trend. After the trend is discovered, it draws the attention of others. From curious onlookers to tireless trend hunters. The trend is observed, discussed, liked, disliked, commented on and referred to others who, in turn, observe and discuss and so on. Pop-culture and entertainment media programs begin to "bring you the latest on the craze that's sweeping the country/world/known universe" and even the prime time news makes mention of the trend as relates to its meteoric rise to popularity.

Much like the highly-publicized zombipocalypse, the spread of the trend has taken on a life of its own and seems virtually unstoppable.

3. The Copycat:

There soon emerges trend "copycats" who then set themselves to the task of mimicking the trend and posting video and images of themselves performing the same act which made the trendsetter famous to begin with. As with all things, "artistic license" is soon after introduced by many of the copycats and alternate variations of the trend are born.

4. The Hipster:

Seeing the popularity of this new trend as a new way to draw attention to themselves, the hipster incorporates the trend into their way of life. The trend has now become theirs' and was theirs' "before it was cool" for everyone else to have it. In fact, you know what? Forget that! Everyone else can have the trend. The trend has already become too mainstream, too commercial, too diluted in the mass media social networking culture to be cool anymore.

But always remember, the hipster got tired of the trend before any of you did.

5. The Corporate Machine

By now, the potential for the trend to generate revenue has been noticed. This is where branding of the trend occurs. Sporting goods manufacturers, electronics, all want a piece of the income earning potential the trend possesses. Soon, the trend makes its way to television, the movies, music videos and the top runways all over the globe. Now being a part of the trend comes endorsed with a designer logo and a $2,000 price tag.

6. The Trend Hater

Of course, not everyone follows the trend. There are those who choose to reject the trend on principle, based on its stupidity, or how it has been commercialized. The trend haters thumb their noses and laugh at the followers of the trend, calling then "immature" or "sheep". Trend followers in an act of rebellion vehemently defend their trend and begin blitzing the internet with more and more of it. This soon erupts into all out social network war, with trend haters and followers firing online attacks against one another. Before long the heavy artillery is launched and the battle of the memes begin.

It's not pretty.

7. The End:

All things, however, must eventually come to an end and with time (often about a week) the trend is shuffled off to a retirement spot where it slowly and painfully withers away and fades into oblivion. The trend does not die, though. Not for a long time. Rather, it clings desperately to life, hanging on to the memories of its followers who have given it so much love and attention and spent their hard earned money on maintaining the trend. As long as these relics of its existence remain in use, even sporadically, the trend's light will not be fully extinguished. At least, not until another up and coming trend is born.

Then the cycle begins again...

********

UPDATE:

1. In case you missed it, don't forget to check out my post I did yesterday over at Sprocket Ink too.

2. This post is just one of many you'll find on My Half Assed Life's Weekend Funnies.

Be sure to check it out for links to other funny blogs that'll put a smile in your weekend.