Embassy row
the fumes they lay low
On lanes that are wide
where the limousines glide
On the wrought-iron gates
and the bone china plates
And don’t forget your manners
where the anthems play
Friday, January 31, 2003 For those upset by the lack of posts over the last few weeks, I apologize. My efforts previous to this week were focused on getting a job, and my efforts during this week were focused on retaining said job. As I have now reached a reasonable comfort level, due largely to the fact that I have not yet been given any work to do, I promise to post more stories detailing my daily life. Why? I have no idea. In that vein, let's talk about my first week at work.
Actually, my first week was not unlike the two months I was unemployed, very uneventful. The majority of my day is spent walking to and from the break room on the extreme opposite side of my floor. You see...there are no cute girls in my group, as God apparently portioned out computer programming skills to men exclusively. So every hour or so I mosy on over to the water cooler on the other side of the floor in hopes of running into the lovely ladies from marketing. But apparently, these ladies don't drink water or coffee, because they are never in the break room. What are they, like fucking cacti! Meanwhile, I'm walking around bloated all day from all the water I've been drinking.
Other than that, not much to report. But here are some little things I've noticed since I started here:
We have a handicapped guy who works here, so all the doors automatically open using motion sensors. It's pretty sweet. Thanks, handicapped guy.
The applebees has roaches. Their 'Bourbon Grilled Chicken' is pretty damn good though.
The lunch lady's name is 'Delicious'. Go figure.
After 4+ years in the workforce, I still have no idea which pot is supposed to be regular coffee...the orange or the blue.
Monday, January 20, 2003 The unemployed Matt you all know and love is dead! Say hello to re-employed Matt! That's right, I got a job damnit! Apparently my superior interviewing skills and irresistable musky scent were the key factors. That and the free handjobs. I thought the nine callback interviews were excessive, but whatever.
Now I'm just pissed I didn't videotape the precious moments during my two months without a job. Perhaps I could have made a musical montage, accompanied by let's say ... Spacehog. Or maybe Christina Aguilera's "Dirrrty". Either way, it would be unsuitable for children, that's for sure. Like the little problem I had last week with the three holes in the wall and that milking machine. Good times, good times. Or the time I went on a cruise for a blind date with this girl, and I threw a glass of water in her face, and then she tried to stab me with her dinner knife. No wait, maybe I just saw those things on TV. Man, my grip on reality is getting weak.
Nevertheless, getting back to work is definitely a good thing. A chance to begin a new stage in my life, making some new friends and accepting new challenges. So wish me luck in the exciting and growing field of gay pornography! Hoorah!
Friday, January 17, 2003 Well, my readership is slowly dwindelling. How could this have happened? Am I not entertaining my readers? Do my posts not make my readers go 'hmmmm'? The answer, of course, is yes. Or no, depending on how you read that last question.
You see, the winter is a tough season to be unemployed. First of all, I'm not big on winter sports...skiing, skating, snowboarding, etc. I have the equivalent balance of a three month old retarded baby. With one leg. And the other leg ends at the ankle. Secondly, it doesn't matter anyway, because I can't spend money on such entertainment until I am re-employed. Sure, I could blow my hefty weekly unemployment check to finance such activities. But then I could also hug and kiss some poisonous snakes! Sorry. I've also considered just walking up the mountain instead of paying for a ski-lift ticket, but I'm pretty sure I'd get about 5 feet before turning around and driving home. Oh yeah, and did I mention my balance problems? Right.
So a message to my readers...brace yo'self fools! Very little happens to me during the week, so I have nothing to write. You should be entertaining me for God's sake. Seriously, the comments section is weak.
Wednesday, January 15, 2003 How an unemployed guy spent his week:
Painted my bathroom. I chose 'Super Gay' yellow. That's the actual name, I swear. And for some reason this took me two whole days to finish, even though my bathroom wall is all of 60 square feet. But now, when people use my bathroom, they can say "Matt, your bathroom is super gay."
Made a visit to the local batting cages. You know, I used to play baseball for the travelling team in our town. I played the outfield/bench. There was one particular game I will never forget. It was a hot summer day, our team was down early, and I was playing my usual position...the bench. By the last inning we were down by ten runs, so I decided to ask the coach if he would let me pinch hit. The coach rubbed his hands on his chin (to imply he was thinking) and then responded, "Nah, I'd still rather not." Actually, he didn't say that, but he was thinking it.
Purchased many types of liqueurs and hard liquors. Figured out how to make a 'Butterfinger': A shot of butterscotch liqueur. A shot of bailey's irish cream. A touch of milk and some ice. Appropriate to drink in a super gay bathroom, if you have one.
Talking to my 16 year old brother about his bi-sexual girlfriend. Yes, you read right, bi-sexual. I have enough trouble finding a heterosexual chick, and he's already dated a girl that goes both ways. I gotta start hanging out with him more often. But a 26 year old guy dating a 16 year old bi-sexual girl isn't as cool. Or is it?
The infamous booby pick mentioned here and here is finally up! Boo-yaa! Hopefully no one was expecting full nudity, this just isn't that kind of site. Well, actually, it would be, but no one is willing to take their shirt off for me. Ever.
One side note about this picture...notice how proudly she wears this shirt, despite having fled new jersey many years ago to the much more dangerous and ethnically diverse city of boston. Surviving in boston consists of drinking lots of guinness and making regular visits to 'The Cape'.
That reminds me of a story. I like stories. Back when I first starting working in boston, my company thought it would be a great idea to take us on a 'Duck Tour', which is a popular site-seeing trip around the city on a bus/boat combo. About half way through the trip, right where the bus/boat is about to dive into the cambridge river, we passed by a particularly filthy land fill. The tour guide on the boat immediately turns to our group and says 'Anyone here from New Jersey?' Like an idiot, I raise my hand. 'Does this remind you of home?', he jokes. Well, my new coworkers certainly thought it was funny. And I wasn't really expecting to be mocked on this trip, so I wasn't prepared with any sort of witty comeback. So I bit off his left testicle and ate it. That fucking prick.
Tuesday, January 07, 2003 I was pretty excited about watching Joe Millionaire last night. The concept definitely sounded like a winner...20 beautiful women, one of whom might be exposed on national television as a money grubbing bitch. Not to mention the numerous scenes where people will be making out in hot tubs. Nice! However, to my surprise I found some problems with this show. First, many of the girls are downright homely. 'The Bachelor' women put these girls to shame. Second, it occurred to me that other than the last episode when the hoax is revealed, this show is just going to be a repeat of 'The Bachelor', which I've already seen and enjoyed in full.
So in my boredom, I starting flipping through the channels to find something else to watch. While flipping, I came across a sitcom where some kid is talking about his spanish teacher, 'Senora Valdez', or something like that. And for some reason this made me think of my own grammar school Spanish teacher, Senora Van Koolbergen. Despite the obvious fact that she was in no way Spanish, she insisted on being called 'Senora' at all times. I also remember how we were convinced that she was wearing a wig, so we concocted a great idea involving a fishing pole and some glue that was gonna take off her wig as she walked through the classroom door. Or stab her in the forehead, either way. So I guess what I'm saying is that I was pretty dissappointed in Joe Millionaire last night.
Thursday, January 02, 2003 One note about the New Years party I attended in Boston: I take full responsibility for the loss suffered at the beer pong/Beruit table.
First, a little background. As a team, my roommate Mike and I were undefeated for almost 60 consecutive beer pong games during my year living in Boston (Somerville actually). Our home table winning record was unmatched by any other drunk duo. Although a single loss was suffered during the last party we hosted there as roommates (a loss that I still contest to this day!), the legacy has clearly survived over the years. As we approached the beer pong table, more than three years having passed since I moved from Boston, you could still hear the whispers coming from the crowd. "These guys are the best!" "I heard that Mike never misses a shot!" "That Matt Valentino guy has a huge penis!"
Our first game this grey and dreary night was against the clear runner ups to our championship status. We knew this game was the big one, up against two experienced and talented players that would most certainly make their best attempt to bring down the champs. Although we were down a few cups early, a solid effort and some expert markmanship helped us come back and eventually grab the victory. Our legacy secured, Mike suggested we quit while we were ahead, and prevent any freak loss that would place an unwanted scar on our reputation. Like an idiot, I replied, 'Play On!'.
To sum up my performance in the following game, I actually got negative one ball in. That's right. Although I sunk a measly one ball, I somehow managed to accidentally redirect TWO seperate balls into our own cups. One bounced off my arm into my cup while I wasn't paying attention. Another bounced off my hand as it was lying flat on the table. And yes, we lost. Therefore, due to my unfortunate performance, I would just like to publicly take all responsibility for the loss, Mike actually played an excellent game. And if the luck I experienced in that game is indicative of what will come in the new year, I'm just gonna go back to bed.
