Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
Last week I called my boss to cancel a vacation day I had scheduled. He
passed me to his assistant, and she told me I'd need to call
"corporate" because the paperwork had already been faxed over
to them. Grrr.... I'm not a fan of walking into the hall of mirrors that
is corporate; I might not ever find my way out.
But I called, so I wouldn't be charged for a day I didn't take. And
guess what? There were two or three more hoops I was required to
jump through. Fax this, sign that, make a follow-up call over there.
Dammit! I should've just taken the day off. It's like dealing with the
U.S. government.
After I had my bulleted list of tasks required of me, I asked the woman,
just for shits and giggles, if she could tell me how many vacation days
she shows I have left for the year. And after a lot of keyboard clicking
and dead air, she said, "OK Jeff, we have you down for 49.8."
Wha'??
It turns out that in 2001 they started rolling unused days into the next
year -- and nobody told me about it. I'm in a crazy situation, because I
work in Pennsylvania for a company based in Southern California. I'm in
a building with 1500 or so employees who work for X, and I'm right in
the middle of them working for Y. Therefore, I'm thousands of miles away
from the kind of office gossip and bitchfests that might actually help
me.
When I moved to PA, and jumped from one division of The Company to
another, vacation days were use 'em or lose 'em. Then they changed the
rules somewhere along the line, and the news never made it to me. Under
normal circumstances I would've received a memo, or heard about it from
the fat woman who likes to talk about her medical procedures. But I'm
out here all alone, and the local fat woman is of little use to me.
Now I find out that I have ten weeks of vacation stacked up(!). Ten
weeks that I won't be allowed to take anytime soon, because
fourth-quarter is almost upon us... And the pisser? The maximum is
fifty, so they've been trying to give me even more paid days off,
but the reservoir is always full.
I know I should be happy about this surprise windfall, but for some
reason it irritates me.
-- I'm reading another book by Bentley
Little. Have you ever heard of this guy? I hadn't, until Stephen King
raved about him in his Entertainment Weekly (aka The Shitter's
Companion) column a few months ago. King described him as a twisted
horror writer with a bizarre sense of humor, who writes about ordinary
people plunged into the middle of insane situations.
Man, that sounded right up my alley, so I ordered one of his books.
I chose The Store, about a Wal-Mart-like chain store that opens
in a small town in Arizona, and may or may not be owned and managed by
one of Satan's disciples. All manner of hilarious fucked-upness
transpires, and I loved every minute of it.
Now I'm reading The Association , about a couple who move into a
gated community in Utah, with a homeowners' association that may not be
run by, yes, one of Satan's disciples. Heh.
You probably get the idea. These things are completely over-the-top,
without apology, and lotsa fun. I'm now in the process of obtaining more
of Little's books, and have a brand new obsession to fill the
void.
Thank you Stephen King, and thanks, as always, to the good folks at The
Companion.
-- Here's a classic that I never get tired of watching. That soppy sack
of garbage at the end makes me laugh every time.
-- Last night Toney and I were talking about how there are common adult
names which you can't imagine a newborn baby having. Like Roger. I just
can't envision a tiny baby sitting in a high chair with the name of
Roger. Ya know? But there are plenty of grown-ups walking around
with that name, and you don't even think about it. What are some of the
others?
Here's an interesting site that verifies my suspicions. And it also
tells me that I was born at the absolute pinnacle of the first big Jeff
spike. I think it's high time for another.
-- And this has been one hell of a scattered morning.... I can't begin
to tell you. I'll leave you now with the question of the day, not from
Clive, but from me.
A few days ago I once again saw a guy in the break
room at work eating corn on the cob. He had two ears that he'd already
stripped clean, and was working on a third. I think I talked about this
guy once before.
Anyway, I was wondering, what are the most unusual
foods you've seen co-workers eat for lunch? Can you top the dude with
the baker's dozen cobs?
And
I'll see ya tomorrow, maybe. This shit is flying off the tracks...
--
Last week I called my boss to cancel a vacation day I had scheduled. He
passed me to his assistant, and she told me I'd need to call
"corporate" because the paperwork had already been faxed over
to them. Grrr.... I'm not a fan of walking into the hall of mirrors that
is corporate; I might not ever find my way out.