The Blogging Affairs Desk

When It’s Good, It’s Good, When It’s BAD, It’s Better…

Hey, Got Any Cake?!

Good news:  I’ve officially lost and managed to keep off twelve + pounds since I started my work out and diet program a few months ago.

Bad news:  I’m now addicted to “cake.”

“Cake” as it’s now known on the streets is a powder or crystal form of weight loss protein shake supplement that encourages lean muscle growth, suppresses appetite, and heals muscles that tear under work out conditions.

I’m addicted and here’s how I know:  I got off the stuff for a week, yet continued to work out and holy shit did I feel it.

Muscles that normally are ready to go the next day were sore as shit.  I was tired, feeling like I spent the night letting punk teenagers beat the shit out of me with metal baseball bats and chains.  I would wake up at 0445 to get up for a three mile run feeling like I had been hit by a bus and dragged the three miles.  It was enough to make me turn over and go back to bed for another hour.

Which I did.  Twice.

But the tale of the tape is this, Cake is working and worth every penny of the fifty sum-odd bucks I pay for it twice a month to get me through.  I’ve trimmed down and have definition in my ab area.  My chest is tighter, not so saggy.   If I stand in front of the gym mirrors wearing all my UnderArmor I look like a fucking X-Men.

Responsibility lays somewhat with my diet too.  I do two “cake shakes” a day for the protein, plus I’ve been monitoring my portions and actually chewing my food.  The easiest way to do this is by simply PUTTING THE FOOD DOWN when you’re chewing a bite.  Set the fork down, enjoy the flavors in your mouth.  It doesn’t have to be shoveled into your mouth and swallowed.  What are you doing that’s so important later in the day that you can’t enjoy the meal?

In a survey taken by some health magazine I was reading in a waiting room last year, ¾ of Americans don’t eat breakfast.  Eating breakfast alone will set your metabolism for the day; it’s like hooking your thyroid up to a car battery.  This means less snacking in front of the screen while you sit on your ass and file TPS reports.  Breakfast doesn’t have to be a Denny’s Grand Slam either (unless you’re still drunk at 3am), you can do what I do and have a fig bar or banana with your morning Cake Shake and call it good.

In our society we’re too conditioned to our half hour lunch breaks, skipping breakfasts, and finding a way to get something in our stomachs for dinner.  In America we try to do as much shit as we possibly can in a 24 hour period, and for what?  We forgo sleep and food to get in extra hours at the office.  No wonder why a third of the population is obese.

We need to take the European approach and actually stop what we’re doing and enjoy the little things in life.  Think about it:  Fuck the economy, the bad news, the impending depression, doom, gloom, etc, and eat a fucking apple on a park bench.  Enjoy and chew each bite.  Listen to the sounds around you and avoid eye contact with the hedge funder who’s rattling a can of pencils in your face.

Oh, one the side affects of “cake” is it makes you an idealist.  Also, gives you great abs and defined shoulders.

I’m just saying….

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April 2, 2009 Posted by | Corporate America Hates You, Gay Shit I Know Too Much About, Gonzo Journalism, Not Enough Time, Shameless Self Promotion | , , , , , | 2 Comments

Rat Problems

If you followed urban hip-hop a few years ago, you might be able to remember a simple street-political slogan that seemed to make its way on to t shirts, cd cases, and even stop-sign-red bumper stickers, which were strategically placed on stop signs that read: STOP SNITCHIN.

Spelling and grammar aside, the message was clear:  the urbanites (see also “blacks”) were tired of snitches, those rat bastards that out of whatever motivation, be it hatred of another, or the promise of rewards, were tattle-tailing on their fellow neighbors.

I never gave any of this much thought because I’ve never had to deal with a snitch personally.  Rather, I’ve never been snitched on, and never had the fear that I was doing anything that would result in a snitch taking aim at me.  That was, until recently.

Recently I was pulled into my bosses office and asked a series of questions, and by the tone of the conversation, before it even got started, I knew that someone had snitched on me, and knew exactly who that person was.  I knew the whole scenario before it even unfolded in front of me.

As a man, I stood tall and came clean about everything, knowing that if I was at least truthful and didn’t dance around any issues, if some shit was going to hit any fans, it would at least be minimal.  In the end, I was just given a proverbial punch in the arm and sent on my way with a stern “don’t let me catch you doing that again.”  But there was still the snitch to deal with.

You see, since I work in a profession that requires me to stay over nights during the week, I have to have a little room in which to sleep.  I share this room with another guy who works opposite of what I work, ie, if I’m on, he’s off, and vice versa.

One of my friends here at work, about a week ago, found this asshole snitch digging through my shit, and confronted him about it.  What we try to do here is handle things on the lowest level possible.  I confronted him too, and asked him, man to man, why he’d been digging through my shit, period.  He never gave me a clear answer and straight up denied having ever gone through my shit before, which I knew was bullshit, because I’m very meticulous about how and where I keep my belongings.  I would come back from being off the clock to find stuff on my desk molested, bed askew, etc.  I just never had the proof I needed to confront this bastard, until now.

I don’t understand why someone would have the balls and audacity to dig through someone else’s belongings.  Because of this asshole (did I mention he’s only a temp transfer who’s been here for about a year now?) I couldn’t leave my Xbox here any longer, and I get antsy when I leave expensive things behind.  I virtually have nothing left in my room, except for a few work related things, and a book I’m currently reading.  I won’t even leave my ipod or Oakley’s behind anymore.

So when it came right down to it, when this little piece of shit dug into the wrong hole and found something he, nor anyone else, was supposed to find, he did the “logical thing”, and leaped over everyone in his chain of command and ratted me out to the highest source possible.

Who then turned around, and called my boss, who of course was blindsided by the news and made to look like a real asshole.

You could imagine that went over as well as a fart in church.

Snitches are despised by everyone everywhere.  No one loves someone who gets their nose into other people’s business, even cops.

I was a cop for four years and I dealt with a small number of snitches, or as we called them “Criminal Informants.”  Though CIs typically coughed up good information on cases we were working, none of us wanted to ever deal with them and viewed them as sub human.  Their reasons were always self-beneficial, as in, revenge against getting their heads kicked in, maybe burned on a drug buy, etc.  Never was it a “concerned citizen” reporting criminal activity like something out of  “Dragnet”; it’s always a scumbag.  Upstanding citizens typically don’t know enough about a criminal motorcycle club and the habits therein.

So being in an interview booth with one of these sniveling, stitched up snitches was loathsome, like shoveling shit out of the back of a stable stall.  You gritted your teeth against their sweaty smell and did all the heavy lifting for them.  Compensation was usually a cheeseburger and a coke out of the machine, maybe a few twenty dollar bills that you tell them to use to buy diapers for their cocaine-addicted-from-birth child, that you know will be used to fund their next meth binge.

Snitches make cases, not friends, was what we used to say.

So getting back to the whole mess around here:  There was no reason to snitch on me; I never did anything to fuck with this guy.  He was just some piece of shit going through my shit, when he came across some shit he wasn’t supposed to find.  If anyone should get in trouble, it should be him, and not me.

And what was the alleged crime?  I’ll say this much:  Given that everyone here at my job has and uses and hides what I have to use and hide, the implications of criminal activity mirror that of what the layperson on the street would compare to you rolling through a stop sign.  I imagine calling the feds on that shit.

I’m just saying…

April 2, 2009 Posted by | Gonzo Journalism, Living in an Insane Asylum, People I Hate | , , , | Leave a comment

Exsqueeze Me? Bacon Powder?

Holy shit, Mtv is going to play music videos again.

That’s right, read that sentence again, and let the long dead 15 year old inside of you rejoice because the Music Television network is going to be playing actual music again.

At 3 am.

It was announced this past week that Mtv is going to be trying a new “advertising scheme” to create more ad revenue from it’s sponsors by allowing them to purchase “blocks” of time that would showcase their brands, ie, “this hour of music video entertainment has been brought to you buy General Electric’s new Microwave Oven.  You kids can nuke your favorite compact discs in it at 19 different settings!” and “Hey, why go through all that hassle of buying music one song at a time on your computer, when you can buy WHOLE ALBUMS for 9.99 at your local Wal-Mart, now back to the videos!”

Granted, Mtv’s move here is shrewd and dare I say a bit out of touch with the current allowance-spending generation who get the bulk of their music through their parent’s computer.  While ratings, I’m sure, have been dwindling on Mtv’s tv channel, their web site hits are up.

This also probably assuages the burn that artists and label heads have been feeling as they watch 15 seconds of their 25,000 dollar video being played twice a day between the end and opening credits of a “Parental Control” marathon.

It’s no secret that Mtv has moved great distances since it last stopped playing regular full length music videos (I can remember a time when some ridiculous P. Diddy epic would premiere in it’s entirety, a 15 minute long mini-movie or something to that nature) hedging it’s bets that “the kids” want to watch scripted “reality” television series and obnoxiously spoiled brats plan, have a fit over, and celebrate their sweet 16s, and not watch hours after hours of mindless video put to music.  But that’s to what Mtv panders, complete brain rotting junk, no matter what  generation is tuning in .

Mtv should give careful consideration to changing the “M” from “Music” to “Mindless.”  Even at its heart, it’s just a network handing out distractions the same way Nino Brown handed out turkeys on Thanksgiving.

The block of videos will extend from 3 am to 9am, when I’m sure a cavalcade of morose, sullen teenagers will parade in front of the screen and read lines with false attitude towards a pre-positioned adult who will be the focus of carefully edited jump cuts for reaction shots of said labored attitude.  This will go on for exactly 12 hours, before a gaggle of painted whores with false senses of entitlement will whine and complain about how drama filled their lives are in New York, Beverly Hills, Laguna Beach, or where ever the fuck they’re dying their hair or waxing off their pubes at this week.

You want real life drama Mtv?  How about a show about motherfuckers who can’t pay for the heat in their homes this winter?

But in a way, Mtv is at least up front with its intentions on the newly purposed blocks of music videos which only 3rd shifters and Dave Attel will be able to appreciate.  In a recent NY Times article  Mtv came right out and said the return to basic music video blocks is designed to lure the few viewers left towards their website to see the same “exclusive” content that their targeted audience has already been getting off of Youtube for the last week.  They plan on bringing back the old horse “Unplugged” in tiny on-screen vignettes, with a scroll-by that invites viewers to head over to the web site to get uncut clips, et al.

After reading the article, I immediately found a dictionary and looked up “corporate slimeball” and an Mtv logo popped up.

I’m just saying…

April 2, 2009 Posted by | Corporate America Hates You, Gay Shit I Know Too Much About, People I Hate, The Great Indoors, Why Am I Watching This? | , , , , , , | Leave a comment