I wrote a hit play

meh

I feel like I've been shot at and missed, and shit at and hit

Posted by Stan at 9/30/2005 | Permalink

I chuckled...



seriously, who is in charge of naming typhoons? I need to consult that naming genius when I have a kid.

sincerely,

sparkle titsworth

p.s. click on picture to see the full sized version.

Posted by Stan at 9/28/2005 | Permalink

quick and derrty

because everyone knows I'm a joran van der music sloot. I give you some of my playlist current favorites, some new some not so new:

the arcade fire -- neighborhood #3 (power out)
chamillionaire -- turn it up
tv on the radio -- staring at the sun
death cab for cutie -- movie script ending

Posted by Stan at 9/27/2005 | Permalink

damn you rita, damn you to hell

on my scale of desired activities, coming home on wednesday and having to cram most [okay, had I neglected to pack pictures of people I actually cared about, I would have easily been able to fit all of them inside...damn you TOPs] of my cigars into marine coolers and then having to evacuate the next day ranks somewhere between gnawing my leg off to get out of a bear trap and chain fellating every member of the world champion 1953 yankees team, both living and deceased. sometimes, however, it must be done. these past few days were one of 'dem days.

truman, the fam, and myself all bolted for the d-eff-dub. nothing worthy of note other than your false alarm mass evac. the dog didn't die (my mom's friend did while sitting in traffic), we didn't run out of gas, and luckily our oxygen tanks did not explode.

apparently my stalker followed me up there, because I noticed a certain article of clothing missing...someone made off with my pants. evidently, someone really wants to see my wang. listen, ladies: all you have to do is ask. that's all it takes. really.

that's all I have for now. I'm fucking spent from being away from houston and from having to listen to my mother all weekend. that is almost on the same level of suckitude to having to listen to a celine dion cover album of creed songs. ugh.

Posted by Stan at 9/26/2005 | Permalink

hurricane rita

I've been catching up on rita and at the national hurricane center page they have a nifty feature that shows you the storm's projected path:



and I noticed one thing. fuckin' ou is sucking this hurricane straight to norman. we are fucked. run for your lives.

Posted by Stan at 9/20/2005 | Permalink

congrats mamma spears

so britney blasted out her first kid yesterday. a boy. no word on whether a red kabbalah string was used to stitch up her episiotomy.

Posted by Stan at 9/15/2005 | Permalink

representin'

where has stan been the past few days?

rather than just workin' it, as is normally the case, I've been actually working. imagine that.

I'll spare you the details of how katrina has affected me and some of my close friends personally. fortunately, they have insurance, great jobs, and their health. I'm confident they'll be back on their feet soon. even at the risk of yours truly no longer having a place to crash at in nola.

I will share with you one particularly strange episode of how katrina has affected me. for the past month or so I've been taking on a bigger workload as we've had some guys working on offsite projects. unlike trent in "swingers" I'm truly the guy behind the guy, behind the guy. no shit. so seeing that these gentlemen are temporarily out, everything gets funneled to me. phone calls, visitors, and occassional visits from "the man". this is severely cutting into the general jackassery and internet surfing I do at the office. the other day I had an interesting visit.

I had to sit and go through an application and interview process with a family of three who had just arrived on texan soil a few days ago. they are living with a relative who used to do our i.t. work a couple of years ago and landed a permanent job with a bigger company we signed a service contract with. they wanted to do the same thing. but only with us. I wasn't aware we had a "help wanted" sign hung in front of our building

the only problem was that they haven't yet had the chance to adjust to life here. they expected me to place them in jobs similar to the ones they held in new orleans. the father was a high level sales executive, the mother had twenty years experience in a bank and the son had a graduate degree in hotel management. hotel management, the only hotel management I do is decide whether to stay at a W or a four seasons when I travel, and I can do that just fine by my lonesome. based on the skill tests that I gave them, they were barely qualified to work as a file clerk for us. we have plenty of those, too.

now, obviously, the tests are biased to benefit people whose primary language is english. not cajun. the problem lies in their attitude. when I went over their test scores with them, they listed their qualifications and insisted that there must be some mistake. they said that their typing scores are bad because in new orleans, they had people to type for them. their software scores were bad because in new orleans they had someone to do their computer work for them.

well, if you want to work in houston, texas, you had better learn some skillz. culture shock sucks worse than that piece of shit movie carrot top made a while back.

so, after having retested them all twice, I secretly dialed my cell phone from my desk phone and pretend I had to take an important call regarding an emergency that was going to cause me to leave the office immediately for the rest of the day.

I felt terrible, but some of these people need to learn they'll be forced to make some adjustments until they can go back to their city. just like the junkie I ran into downtown. he wanted me to pay for his metrorail fare back to the dome. sorry jack, but you should whip out that nice debit card you for from fema.

Posted by Stan at 9/14/2005 | Permalink

getting back some sense of normalcy

looking forward to things starting to go according to plan after they were derailed by a bitch named katrina. I'll be back with a witty and provocative post later in the day, or later this week when I have to sit and gather my thoughts. I'm off to grab some lunch. you can't expect to power a ferrari on regular fuel.

I need supreme petrol, baybie.

Posted by Stan at 9/13/2005 | Permalink