My Advice #1

Avoid the temptation to go to Bikram Hot Yoga with a hangover.

Insomnia? Is there a better reason to write?

Def.
Insomnia: The chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time.

Well I guess by definition, it's not what ails me at the moment. The key word being chronic. But I do, semi-regularly, lay in bed with repetitive thoughts churning in my cranium. As a result my recent sleep patterns have been less than normal. What am I thinking about you ask? Well, that would be "EVERYTHING"!

So this is where my blog will take a Quentin Tarantin0-esk turn. Before I can indulge you in my current state of sleep deprivation and it's roots, I must bring you up to speed on the last "several" months. I cannot; nor will I even make an effort to, do that all this morning. This will take several posts.

Where to begin? Where to begin? Where to begin? Oh yeah! I accepted an interim promotion for a job that had no fucking job description! What the fuck was I thinking? (If you are waiting for an answer, don't. It's a rhetorical question!) My motives were sincere. Naive? Yes. But they were and continue to be sincere.

In case you are just tuning in, I suggest you back up and read some of my previous mindless ramblings. I started this blog as a way to write about all the crazy shit in my head (Cheap Therapy). It became something else. A Frankenstein-ish mish-mash of weird observations and immature anecdotes. Along the way I formed some nice blogging associations. Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Maybe it's time that I return to my original motivation. Now I pay for therapy. But writing still is invaluable to maintain my sanity and direction.

Two years ago I was on the top of the world, or so I thought. The job, the homes, the cars, the wife, the dog, the cat, the vacations, and all of the bullshit that goes along with being a successful American Man. One day it's all there and the next day most of it is gone. I was lucky to safe the wife, the dog, and the cat. Although, even those were were almost lost as well. I am one of the 99 per-centers now just trying to survive. I am not Joe the Plumber, I am Jake the Fireman.

Look what the cat dragged in!

Wow! Times flies! It's been twenty-one and one half months since my last post. Now it was not entirely my fault. Lost passwords to both my blogger account and my live-mail account kind of made it hard to log on. We'll I'm back. Post will not be frequent, but nor will they be infrequent. I hope that you are all doing well in the blog-o-sphere. I'll post some of the 411 of the last several months. Life sure is strange!

Well Hello There!!!

O.K. three weeks is enough, I know! These last few weeks truly have me stumped. One would think that with everything going on in the world that I could muster some inspiration to write. Not so! I have wanted to write about a ton of subjects but have been unable to piece more than two words together. "Fuck It" is the extent of my creativity. So let me throw out some random shit and see where it takes me.

1. I saw Lewis Black in concert. He said "Fuck" or one of its many off shoots, 257 times. It was fucking brilliant.


2. Women's beach volleyball is my new favorite sport. Well, at least until football season starts. (I haven't totally lost my mind.)


3. When did Ping Pong and Badminton become sports and Baseball and Softball not? Have the Olympic Muckity Mucks lost there fucking minds?


4. Horse doping in the Olympics??? What's next, a corked balance beam scandal?


5. When you tell a cab driver the address that you need to get to, they should never say "I am not knowing where dat iz!" Look, there's a thing called GPS, buy one!


6. How did McCain score a milf with such bad teeth?


7. My brother is still a dick.


8. This is the most honest obituary. . . . . . . ever!

My neck hurts, I'll see you all tomorrow.

Jake

Shark Week

As you might Imagine Bucky and Gordo have much different taste in television shows than I do. They tend to watch shows containing war, race cars, and asshole right wing news broadcasters. Last night at the firehouse I found myself watching a "Shark Week" show on the Discovery Channel with said half witted co-workers. Now on this program the apparently intelligent shark gurus were trying to figure out how to make sharks attack them. I know! Stick with me on this. They were doing this by getting in the water and doing shit to entice the sharks to attack. Things like wave a dead fish on a spear, pretend to be a seal, and float around on a surfboard and splash. Yeah, these are the experts! I was dumbfounded as to why the fuck these nimrods were doing this. You don't see bomb squad guys doing shit to see what it takes to blow there hand off do you? I assume in any case there is a logical sequence of events that would lead someone to form a reasonable idea as to what causes bad shit to happen. You don't need to prove to me that sharks like a bloody leg and that an M80 will blow your nuts off! Then it got really strange. At the end of a commercial break as the show was about to start, a voice said the following.

"These are highly trained professionals do not attempt this at home."

WTF? Is it a nation wide epidemic that folks are keeping great white sharks in there back yard? Look numbnuts If sharks are knocking on my front door like some 1970's Saturday Night Live re-run then I have bigger things to worry about.


Like maybe the fact that the Pacific Ocean moved a mile and a half inland. The only thing that I learned by watching that show is that either the folks at the Discovery Channel are idiots, or that they think we are. Then I looked over and saw the wonder twins totally captivated with there mouths hanging open. You could have walked over and kicked them in the head and they would have been oblivious. Maybe I shouldn't second guess the marketing guys at the network after all.

Beach Day

Today is Beach / Beer day. Enjoy your weekend everyone.

Jakeathetic

Apathetic; Adj. Ap-a-thet-ic

1. Having or showing little or no emotion: apathetic behavior.
2. Not interested or concerned; indifferent or unresponsive: an apathetic audience.
3. Also see Jakeathetic...

Welcome to my reality. This is the funk that I find myself in. It has been twelve days since my last post. Each day that has gone by I have told myself to get on and write. But strangely I have had no energy to do much of anything. Work has been extremely busy. I think that that has been the greatest contributor to my exhaustion. Add to that the classes that I have been taking and the fact that I am a husband, dad, gardener, mechanic, handy man, drink maker, cook, and over all house man-whore. Understandably I have become a completely lethargic couch turd. I have lost touch with current events, sports, my blog mates, and reality TV. For fucks sake I haven’t had the time or energy to drink beer! How fucking pathetic can a guy be? Maybe there is something to be said for “Crank” after all. Because I’ll tell you one thing if I have one more cup from Starbucks, it’s going to eat a four-inch hole in the bottom of my stomach. Which will really suck because I’m sure that I will be too lazy to get my ass out of bed to go to the E.R. I took this photograph on the fourth of July.

Clearly Harry has more motivation than I do. Hell, look at the work he put into his sign! Two color print on custom stock. He even did a spell check for Christ’s sake! “Woe is me. The homeless have become more productive than I.” WTF!!! Now if you’ll excuse me I need to roll over. I’d hate to get a recliner sore on my ass.

Jake

I'm Beat

Happy weekend everyone. Goodnight.

Words. . .

Words can be powerful. The more that I write the more I believe this. A few days ago in casual conversation, a guy that I know (not a friend might I add) used a word disparaging African Americans. I was shocked. The look that I gave him must have spoken volumes. I’m sure that my turning and walking away gave him a clue as well. A short time later he approached me and said the following…

“You know, that wasn’t right of me to say that. I should have used “N-word “ instead of actually saying the word.”

“You’re an idiot!” was my response. And I again walked away.

This whole interaction really got me thinking. As I see it, substituting an abbreviation or another word for an offensive statement is fucking stupid. It does absolutely nothing to remove the hate or ignorance from the original utterance.

We need to change people’s way of thinking, not their vocabulary. Frankly I hate the word itself and any lame attempt to soften it or make a PC substitution. Am I off base here? Maybe I need a Prozac regime?

I mean WTF??? I’ve never said…

“…What was that Wetback thinking? Oh sorry, I should have said, “W-word.” But it’s OK, I have friends who are Mexican.”

See, it’s fucking stupid. No other word that is offensive to rational people gets this letter substitution bullshit! Why? Because it's complete idiocy!

Gay men and Lesbians aren’t “Q-words and D-words” they are people.
Asian people aren’t “G-words” they are human.
White people aren’t “C-words”. . .
Irish people aren’t “M-words”. . .
Polish people aren’t “W-words”. . .
Women aren’t “B-words or H-words”. . .

And please don't assume that I am downplaying bigotry towards those groups because I am not. Hatred is hatred it's as simple as that.

The poet Gordon Sumner said it well.

I don't want to bring a sour note
Remember this before you vote
We can all sink or we all float
'Cos we're all in the same big boat

One world is enough
For all of us

So, to all of you short minded people out there weather you are in bread, ignorant, or just and idiot…(sorry, maybe I should have used the “I-word”. . .)

Go “F-word” yourself!!!

Infamy???

Family's like him...

The School Board likes him...

Kids fucking love him!!!!!



Golfers...



Green keepers...



Snobs...



Slobs...



Yuppies...



Hippies...



The English...



and the French....

*Snip* *buzzzzzzzzz* *snip*

You Don't Have to Go Home, But You Can't Stay Here!!!

I'd like to begin by thanking Jeff for reminding me. Yes everyone, the state of California is officially closed until further notice. All routes into and out of the state are impassable*. In the event that you made reservations let me extend to you a heart felt apology. Nebraska and Arkansas have gone on record and said that they will help out any wayward traveler and honor reservations on California's behalf. This is an unfortunate occurrence but unavoidable. As many of you have read or seen in the news, 18 trillion acres of the state are currently on fire. The last thing we need is out of state lookie loos clogging the 5 freeway. In addition Gavin Newsom is exploring the idea of running for Governor in 2010. It is essential that the state keeps it's supplies of hair product safe in order to ensure that his campaign is successful. Again we are sorry for the inconvenience.

Jake

* If you are coming to California for the fourth of July Lindsey Lohan gay wedding you will not be allowed to pass through any checkpoints. Might I suggest trying entry from the south. Rumor has it that anyone can make it through just south of San Diego.

p.s. Have a happy Fourth of July. Practice safe fireworks etiquette by keeping sparklers at least three feet from your testicles.

California Summer.

Hola everyone. Been in class all week. Now I'm on the fireline in the Napa hills. I have some great pics but I am clueless on posting from iPhone. Will catch up with all of your blogs soon.
Jake

Steve Jobs Ruined Me!!!

Can you please help me out? How have I arrived at this point and place in my life? Gone are the days of rampant underachieving and gross apathy. How I long for lazy Wednesday afternoons where I can contemplate excuses for my lackluster existence. I have an idea as to the cause of my dilemma.

Fuck you Apple Evangelists!!! Your creations of brilliance have ended one mans dreams of an aimless existence. You were not happy with bringing home computing to the masses. You targeted the young and old with catch phrases like plug and play, drag and drop, spring loaded, and what you see is what you get!!! You Bastards!!! You ensnared us all with a magic box that holds 8,000,000,000,000 songs! Was it enough? No I say, no it was not! You have exposed me to a poison worse than crack....



Because of you, I now know. . .

1. who
2. what
3. why
4. when
5. where
6. how
7. how come
8. how much
9. the repercussions if I do
10. the repercussions if I don't
11. the cost
12. the length
13. the width
14. the girth
15. Triple E
16. Double D
17. Quantity
    
18. Quality
19. Essence
20. Existence
    
21. Terms
22. Definitions
23. Decimals
    
24. Fractions
25. Factions
26. Actions
27. Auctions
28. Do's
    
29. Dont's
30. Wills
31. Wont's
    
32. and how to say Fuck in French.

So to all you selfish, no good, rotten bastards at Apple. . .

Futuere' !!!

Jake

I'm having Lucky Charms In The Morning.

As most of you probably know, tomorrow is Friday the 13Th. As luck would have it (no pun intended) I am working tomorrow. By my very nature I am not a superstitious individual. But considering that a good chunk of California is currently on fire, Jake here has decided to not take any chances. So tomorrow I will be carrying the following items around in my pockets.


(Don't ask me, Wikipedia said that a fucking acorn is lucky...who knew?)

You're probably thinking at this point, "Jake, won't your pockets be kind of heavy?" Well my answer is "YES". . . and that is the intent. Because really, none of these inanimate trinkets mean a fucking thing. But they will be a reminder to. . .


Have plenty of this around for unexpected "knocking"! . . .

to do this through out the day. (I hope the homies don't think I'm throwin' signs!). . .


avoid this. . .
steer clear of this little bastard. . .

and to keep an eye out for a guy swinging this,. . . .


while wearing this!!!


Happy Friday everyone and good luck. . .you'll need it!

Jake

The Late Call

Click On Image To Enlarge

Sittin' On A Dock On The Bay. . .

I have a friend named Ricardo. Everyone calls him Ricker. We have been friends for about fifteen years. Ricker and I have had a lot of really great times together. Over the years we have gone to a number of sporting events. I wouldn't say it's a regular thing, but we've been to enough that I have lost count.

Sunday morning Ricker called me and left me a voice mail. It went something like this...

"Hey Ja-***** ****** ******- ome tickets to th-** ***** ** *** *****-me tomorrow. It's Irish nigh-*** *** ***** *-, call me!"

"WTF?" was my response.

Now I called him back right away (I mean like 8.5 seconds later) but got his voice mail.

"Hey Ricker, I don't have a clue what the fuck you just said. I assume you want to go to the Giants game. Call me back dude!"

FASTFORWARD to Monday at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Ricker called me back.

"Dude the ferry leaves at 4:45, I'll pick you up at 4:00."

"Pick me up? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What do you mean? Aren't we going to the Giants game? It's Irish night."

"Umm, aren't you Mexican?" I ask.

"Hey, I got a new green Dodgers jearsy. I gotta represent!" (he's a die hard Dodgers fan and hates SF)

"Ricker, the Mets are in town."

"?????. . . and. . . ?" Came Rickers response.

"How many times have I said to call me ahead of time so I can plan....."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I did, and you didn't answer!"

At this point I realize it's pointless to debate with him. So semi-reluctantly, I agreed. "Sure man, pick me up at 4:00."

Now if any of you have had the pleasure of going to a Giants home game you'll know that it's a pretty great time. They have a beautiful ballpark that sits right on the bay.


You can hop on the ferry, walk about a mile and a half, and you are there. After the game the ferry picks you up right at the park for the return trip. I've made this journey countless times and swear it's the only way to go to a game now. Fuck driving. Fuck traffic. Fuck parking in the city. They take you there, serve beer on the trip, and take you home afterwards. It's fucking great!

Ricker arrives about ten minutes late (very predictable). In short order he makes some wise crack to Mrs. T that sends her into a tailspin. With half a dozen expletives and a pointed finger, she orders us out. She cracks a smile at me and says "have fun, see you later."

The ferry trip takes about 45 minutes. The walk to the park takes a bit longer due to the number of bars flanking the route. The first regular stop in Gordon Biersch. They have great beer and great food.

Mmmmmmm!

This, is the view. . . .

The second stop is MoMos which is right across the street from the park. A few more caack-tails there and it's game time.

We had yet to buy tickets and the doorman at MoMos didnt' have any for that nights game. As we waited to cross the street I reminded Ricker that I only sit field level. I like to consider myself a baseball snob. Fuck the cheap seats! A scalper overheard us and offered us two tickets behind the dugout for $6 over face value. "Yeah right, fuck that! I'll give you $25 each." he babbled on about making a profit as I walked away. Another scalper overheard our exchange and told Ricker he'd sell us two "Club Level" seats behind home plate for $25 each. Ricker agreed and made the exchange. "Hey Jake check it out $67 dollar tickets for $25 each!" I'm pissed now. "Fucktard what did I say? ONLY FIELD LEVEL!" Well now, stuck with the mystery zone tickets, we headed into the venue. Up and up we went. Higher and higher into the wild blue yonder.

Now let me explain something. Ricker has completely ruined my concept of baseball. You would not believe where we ended up. A-Fucking-Mazing!!! Air conditioned concourse with some of the greatest food I have ever had. No steamed weenies or Budweiser here. Check this out!!!!!



Corned beef sandwiches and Guinness Draught made Irish night well worth it. I'll never be able to sit with the common folk ever again!!!! Ricker my friend, you are a bastard!!!

Be patient with me while a take a little side trip at this point. . .

To the 20ish dick in line at the Irish Pub line. "You are an asshole."

1. The backwards Celtics ball cap doesn't make you Irish.
   
2. The bad lucky charms accent you were attempting doesn't make you Irish.
3. Ordering a Black-n-Tan makes you look like a chick; (and no, not an Irish chick!)
4. Get off your cell phone and order your shit before I have to punch you in the back of the head.
5. FYI the girl you were trying to hook up with on the phone wouldn't meet you for a reason. . . , she's banging your older brother!

Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, game ruined. I was enjoying the concourse so much that I only sat in my seat for about 20 minutes. I ate and drank like I had just been paroled from prison. I pretty much forgot that a game was even being played.

Now, In the seventh inning we remember that some guys from the firehouse have season tickets in the bleachers. Off we went, in search of our drunken comrades. It was futile. We never found em' and it was friggen cold in the outfield. So Ricker made a suggestion that we leave early and go back to MoMos for a few more drinks. "Trust me" he said. "The ferry doesn't leave until one hour after the game is over. We have pleanty of time!!!" Not so semi-reluctantly, I agreed.

After about forty minutes at MoMos I peel Ricker off the bar and head to the ferry. Can you predict where this is going? Yup, you guessed it. . . Ferry is gone and I'm looking down the barrel of a California Divorce. "HOLY FUCK RICKER, WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN ME INTO?"

"Don't worry dude, we'll catch a cab"

"Ricker, do you know how much a cab is going to cost?"

"Who cares Jake? It's on me!"

Yes, I let him pay! . . . . . One Hundred and Twenty Dollars!!!

But this story ends on a good note. We beat the ferry by five minutes and Mrs. T was peacefully asleep when I got home.

Enjoy your weekend everyone, I'm working.

Jake

Ten More Things I Learnt....

So my week has gone well. How are all of you? I had hoped to work an extra shift this week at the firehouse. But alas that failed to come through. You see, I am finding that I am way more productive there than at home. Mrs. T kicks the honey do list into overdrive when she knows I will be around for a few days. At work I ensure the equipment is up to speed, training is finished, and we are available for emergencies. Usually after 5pm ; pending calls, we are free to do our own thing. Even though I am at a busy house, it's easy to find quiet space to focus and be productive. Here are a few things that I learned this week....

1. A black man with a middle eastern name has a great chance of becoming President.
2. The guy at the Giants game on Monday with the Celtics hat turned backwards, is a dick. (Get off your cell phone prick boy and order, or get the fuck out of line!!!)
   
3. Walking twenty-five miles sucks a whole lot more than paying 4.25 for a gallon of gas. Thank Skid Jones for that little pearl.
4. If you drink enough, even a brain tumor doesn't stand a chance.
5. If you miss the last ferry home from San Francisco, a cab cost $120 to my house.
6. Hillary thinks there is O.T. and that she can kick a field goal and pull off a last second victory.
7. Twenty-one years of networking makes career expansion when you're older, a whole lot easier.
8. R Kelly really is a creep.
9. I'm old. Many of the students. . . sorry, correction. . .most of the students I will be teaching are younger than my son.
10. Arnold Schwarzenegger was a better actor than he is a Governor. As I recall he doesn't have a whole lot of thespian recognition. What next, are they going to elect a fucking wrestler?

See you all tomorrow. . .

Expert? . . .Me?

Finally received news on the teaching position. Beginning June the fifth, I will officially be a staff member at a nearby community college. It is exciting. I would be lying if I did not admit to having some reservations. Deep down inside, I know that I will do well. But a new path within my career field has some degree of intimidation.

I have quite a lot of work ahead of me. My title will be "Credentialed Expert". Essentially it's a fancy term for Assistant or Secondary Instructor. I have four classes that I must tackle in the next six weeks. If I can pull those off then I will be close to earning state recognition. That will allow me to be a Primary Instructor. After finishing those courses I have to instruct for eighty hours and be evaluated. At that point my documentation and credentials would be submitted to the state for final approval.

Several of the current Primary Instructors have already contacted me asking for assistance. I already have four days in June that I will be teaching. So with that, my regular job, and having to full fill my required classes, June and July will be hectic. Two of the four classes that I have to take will require me to travel out of town for a few days. Mrs. T has been very supportive. I know she wants this to happen for me, but once again we will be apart for an extended period of time. I know it bothers her but she is being understanding. To top it off, she starts school on the twenty-fourth of June. Hang on, I think it's going to be a wild couple of months.

I'm Back With A Vengeance

Alright, I'm back. It's been such a crazy week and a half. I'm going to spew quite a bit of crap out. If it appears that I am jumping around like an epileptic at a square dance, I apologise in advance.

Let me begin by thanking all of you for the concern and kind words. I greatly appreciate it.

In brief summary of last week, my Grandfather died. Sad news yes, but it didn't bring me to any form of incapacitation. I had only seen him a few times in the last twenty years. I'll save my childhood memories for a later post. No funeral was planned just a memorial. I have not, an most likely will not be invited. I will remember him and celebrate his life privately in my own way.

In the days after his death I found myself putting a great deal of thought in the whole "Death" thing. In my mind I actually constructed a great blog post about the subject. I wrote it, read it, edited it, and re-wrote it several times in my head. It was amazing. When the time came to transfer the words from the grey matter to the computer, it occurred to me. It was pretty fucking bleak and dark. Well written yes, but frankly it was depressing as hell. So, I elected to keep it up top. Maybe someday I will let it out. For now. . . .I'll wait.


With all of my introspective assessment and vain attempts at self analyzation I have not found the key to happiness. I did find an old rusty lock where the fucking thing must go, but *hmmmpph*, no damn key. . . .I'll keep looking.

Last week I outed myself a bit. I was in a strange mood and needed to give some of me, to all of you. I have been considering it for quite some time. To tell you the truth, my job will provide a lot of entertaining material for the blog. I also rambled about my pre-blog research. I'm weird like that. I like to know about "things" before I commit involvement. So if I sound like a wacko for reading "Blogging for Beginners" lists. . . . Take a good look at this. . . .

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, outing myself and "honesty". My decision to use a pseudo name was simple. Anonymity is essential for my career. Besides I think there is something kinda cool about the whole superhero "other" name thing. By the way, the answer is "No"! I don't have bright red body suit with a fire hydrant blazoned across my chest; fucking smart ass. . . . . .

It's actually black with a big "J".

Considering that my "family" has all but vanished. Save the intermittent "Hey, guess who died" call. Here is the "major change" I have decided to pursue. I am going to change my last name. Not my fake Superhero last name, but my real life last name. Having no real connection to the "Wacko Clan", I'm going to drop the Fuckerville Step Dad name in lieu of my biological fathers surname. Mrs. T is ecstatic since she hates the "Now" name and loves the "Birth" name. A new life starting with my old name. I feel good about it.

Anyway campers, it's nice to be back. See you all again tomorrow night. I'll catch up on all of your blogs around lunchtime.

Jake

Crisis Averted....Maybe?

I'm back from a week long emotinal rollercoaster of change. Sorting out and contemplating making some drastic moves in my life. Hope all is well with everyone.

Jake