Party Anyone?

Everyone in my immediate family has been invited to the Super Bowl party that my wife and I are throwing this Sunday, yet every single time I see one of them, they behave as if they have not been extended an invite. Just today when the mention of said party came up in conversation, my Mom verbalized something along the lines of, "Oh, are you still having it?" YESSSSS...I AM STILL HAVING IT!!! What the shit do I have to do to get through to these people? Granted my Dad is in his late 60's, but the running total of "what are you doing for the game this Sunday" is getting into double digits and I am seriously starting to think that I have become the opening act for Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones flashing one of those memory erasers each time I leave the room. It's like some sort of sick fucking M.I.B. hazing ritual and I haven't been let in on the joke.  Perhaps I should implement a shock therapy approach (ala cattle prod) and respond to each one of their negligent inquiries with a ZAP!!! This strategy may be effective, however, it may also have me partying by myself, and that's no fun. I suppose I'll just continue this exercise in futility and keep reminding their forgetful asses, but know this, after the game I will be contacting my physician to schedule a full blown test for the Alzheimer's gene.  I am so fucked.

--BK

Here goes nothing...

My name is Bobby King. I wanted to start my blog about a week ago, but I couldn't figure out what to call it. So I settled on the "BK Journals". Riveting. So during this tumultuous week of torturous name seeking, not only have I been freaking out about the name thing, but so many awesome things happened that I wanted to report, but couldn't because I was still trying to pick a stupid fucking title for this blog. All the extra fireworks in my life only slapped the pressure on thicker, thus delaying the blog indefinitely and further stressing me out. So fuck it, I'm writing now.

 I've also decided to change the names of the people in my life for whom I blog about.  This choice was made in order to prevent putting people's jobs and lives in jeopardy on many different levels. Lets face it, our nosey superiors need something to do while they pretend to work and I don't need them googling my friends and colleagues. Plus, if anyone I know reads this and gets offended, I'll just say "Man, I wasn't talking about you...that's not even your name." Hope that works.  All of the sudden I am feeling an overwhelming sense that my first step onto the ominous bridge to 40 may be a lonely one. I'm 29.

Back to my original point. There has been some crazy shit going on at work.  I am currently in the field of internet tech support.  Before this job I was never quite aware of the degree to which ignorance has spread throughout the country. Actually, "ignorant" is sugar coating it.  These people are so incredibly unaware that it's almost impressive.

But I digress.  So a few days back I was sitting at my cubicle, just bullshitting between calls with my friend and colleague  George, when all the sudden I heard some murmurs through my cubicle wall. I told George "Listen, do you hear that?" It was Nate and he was meagerly protesting to his customer that he was "Not lazy sir, I AM NOT LAZY SIR!!", at which point the call center dipped into an almost deafening silence and......

.....BAAAAM!!!!! I jumped out of my seat and damn near out of my skin just to look up and witness a heavy precipitation of lettered plastic.  I was positively sure that Nate had just given his formal letter (or letters...to be obnoxiously accurate) of resignation through the traditional obliterating of the keyboard.  If anyone was still unsure of Nate's employment status at this point, when the supervisor stormed over to interrogate Nate, he politely screamed "FUCK THIS SHIT....I'M OUT OF HERE!!!" And if that wasn't entertaining enough, one of my direct supervisors was handed her walking papers the same day. The entire department was distraught.  I know I shed I tear when I received the news of her glorious, much anticipated, unbelievably joyous SHIT-CANNING!!!  Did I happen to mention my fluency in the linguistic art-form of sarcasm as a second language?

--BK