I discovered a few things while off at my lovely meeting. First, the Hilton has a really nice place here, which used to be called the Rosemark, but apparently Hilton stole it from them.
Second, there are a bunch of hot college women running around downstairs at the Hilton, taking some sort of exam. There were guys with them, too, but I hardly noticed them.
Third, the music in the men's bathroom is straight out of a nightmare flashback going to 1975 or something. It was awful. It was truly, truly awful. This music would make Karen Carpenter puke, and her music makes me puke. It was pukeadelic.
Fourth, some genius decided to put these funky automated toilet seat covering devices on all the men's toilets. They take up half the seat and leave the men with some tough choices to make. When you sit on these toilets you quickly discover that you can either a) put you butthole over the toilet while resting your 'junk' on the seat, which ultimately results in you pooping in the water, but peeing into the floor and your pants which are down there around your ankles, or b) putting your 'junk' inside the seat so you can pee in the toilet, but forcing you to jack up your butthole onto the back of the seat, leaving a poop pile there as it skids its' way down your backside and into the water.
Judging from the fact that every single seat had a brown smear all down the back I must conclude that option b was the preferred choice.
Yuck.
So much for Hilton quality. This is a mood-killer. No amount of gold-plated coffee cups and hot college women running around outside in the halls could make up for this offense. 3 stars for you, Hilton! Now get rid of those damn man-proof toilet seats before we start pooping in the floor in protest.
OK, enough about that. The seminar was boring and it was cold as hell in there and I kept having to leave to go thaw out in the hallway. None of the college girls hit on me at all. What is wrong with them? Don't they want to get with this hot piece of man-meat?
Stop laughing.
The coffee was good, though. I have no idea what kind of coffee it was, but it tasted better than any coffee I've ever had. I normally only drink coffee to wake up. I've never tasted a coffee that I thought wasn't crap without cream and sugar in it. But this stuff, whatever it was, was just fine. It also was hot, so everyone was using their hot coffee cups to warm their hands throughout the long speech.
After the conference, I went to our old house to load up my truck with stuff from the garage that the movers didn't take. After seeing how much damage the movers did to our furniture I guess I'm glad they left the garage alone. Assholes.
It's a funny thing, but in the old neighborhood, just this past year or two, I have noticed a steady flood of good-looking high school and college aged girls appearing. Throughout all the years we've lived in this place there have been tons of guys and little kids and drunken rednecks sitting on their porches shouting at people and such, but not many girls, and not many good-looking girls at that. But this past year or so, all of that has changed. Every time I go out in the driveway to load up my truck or work on the cars, at least one, and usually two, good-looking girls will come strolling by. More and more and more of them have accumulated here in the neighborhood. I don't know where they're all coming from, but it makes this move difficult.
This totally sucks. For 8 long years we've suffered through this neighborhood, being attacked and harassed and assaulted and you name it. And now that we're finally getting out, BOOM, beautiful girls everywhere I look.
Oh sure, I know I can't do anything with them anyway. I'm not saying I would have liked to run around chasing high school girls. Lord knows I'm too old to hit on a 17-year-old girl. And no man wants to hear the dreaded and penis-deflating "ew, you're OLD." It just somehow makes me feel happy when they are around. It's like sunshine in the midst of a dark fog. It's happiness in jeans. I don't know.
So anyway, today our TV hookup was moved to the new house, which means no more watching Network TV with the rabbit ears. This past Friday the movers came and destroyed as much of our furniture as possible as they shifted our belongings from the old house to the new house. If we charged them for the things they destroyed I think they'd owe us at the end of the day.
The TV guy who hooked up our equipment and got us set up at the new house wants to buy My Dad's old banana wagon. I doubt he'll ever show up with the money, but if he does then that is taken care of. My Wife hates the car and wants it gone. If you can imagine a banana yellow stationwagon/hearse sitting in your driveway then you might understand why. If you're a man you're probably thinking, "what's wrong with that?" And if you're a woman you're no doubt saying to yourself, "ewwwwww NASTY!" So, while this is happening, My Sister is emailing to ask me to hurry up and come buy her Bronco.
I was just flipping around on Google when I somehow discovered something very disturbing, which has absolutely nothing to do with anything I've written here. In Ireland, the police have a weapon they call the Baton Gun. Remember how I was upset about the police in the U.S. often shooting men in the genitals with the Taser, sometimes on purpose and sometimes simply because the Taser was designed to spear men's genitals even when the cop tries not to? Yeah? Well, the Irish Baton Gun instructs police to aim for the "belt buckle" area, wink wink, but in practice is being used by police to shoot the groin EVERY SINGLE TIME. When they miss then they hit the hip or thigh. But they're aiming for the groin on purpose. They say you shouldn't aim for the head because it will penetrate the skull. So, I'm thinking if it penetrates the skull then it pretty much obliterates the genitals of a man, right? Yep.
And here we all were taught that the Roman Empire was cruel and barbaric, what with it's use of castration as a punishment or threat in virtually any and all circumstances. How silly was all of that? We've mechanized their whole system and added precision and efficiency to it with laser sights and high voltage and air-propelled batons. And all the while, we know that this only leads to an ever more violent and rebellious population, just as it did for the Romans. But even so, we like to think we're smarter than they were and this time will be different. Also, doing it with a rifle or Taser allows for a greater degree of depersonalization, placing the male victim further away and making it seem a little less real than when their blood is all over your hands and their screams are ringing in your ears, as it was for the Romans.
It won't be long now that all cops were be demanding and receiving special groin protection for themselves when the public responds to all this sexual violence and abuse with their own sexual violence and abuse. Not that groin protection isn't needed already. It just isn't needed as badly as it will be in the future. There was once a time when only our military was taught to assault the genitals, for use in war only. I guess now that we're all ruled by feminism, we've decided that our own male civilians are invaders and need to be treated as enemy combatants?
Hey, anything goes means anything goes. Peace, security, happiness, it all goes.
OK, well, I've rambled like always, but somehow it's not hitting today. I think I'll stop here and just let this fly. Hopefully tomorrow I'll feel more creative than today.
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