Take a look at Yourself.

The Washington DC area is full of some of the most self centered people I have ever encountered. Since moving here I have witnessed some of the most asinine behavior that one can witness. Every day it is people just looking to get ahead of each other no matter the cost. To coin a phrase from a good friend to this here blog: "You think you're better than ME?!?!" (points to self with own thumb)

Currently here in the District we are experiencing something known as "Snowmageddon". Bad title. (their words, not mine) In any event we have been hit with snow that is not well known around here, something like 22 inches in the past day. BOOM right?!?! Well, you can imagine that the roads are kinda not clear and for obvious reasons attempts at navigating them should pretty much be avoided, don't you think?? If you want a better reason to not go out on the roads, there has been a warning issued that you should stay off the fucking things. Nevertheless, people are out there trying to get to the gym, pick up some frozen pizzas, drive to the mall or whatever it may be that they so choose to risk their lives, and the lives of others for. But who am I to judge right, I mean these road warriors (good title) may be driving to church to pray for loved ones or in desperate need of medical attention so in an attempt to keep one of my two New Year's resolutions going I am looking to understand my fellow driver and not get so bitter and take direct offense to their every action.

So, where am I going with this. If reading comprehension has taught you anything you always pay attention to what happens in the introductory paragraph, that is where intentions for writing are often made clear. So, I am out and about at 6:15 am as I have a certain Tessie Girl that has awoken me from my slumber in some sort of wicked need for bathroom goings. I oblige by putting on the ol' winter coat, hiking boots, snow cap, and gloves and take the worthy mutt out to TCB, takin' care of business. As we make the rounds Tessie Dog is playing in the two feet plus of snow and I am carefully observing all around as it is still somewhat dark as the sun has yet to rise. Also, the dog is off her leash seeing as how it is wicked early and we've just been hit hard. Besides, Tessie Dog, she be a good dog and respectfully pays attention to her pack leader (We watch the Dog Whisperer from time to time). While trudging through the poorly cleared and snow filled roads of our neighborhood we come across a tiny foreign SUV, a Honda CRV or something that clearly does not have four wheel drive, that is struggling with in an intersection and has found itself stuck.

Without giving it a second thought and instructing Tessie to stay back I went in to lend a hand. So, while this car began trying to work itself out of a jam I, the courteous good Samaritan, went and pushed the car with all this 5'11" 200 lb frame could muster. After a hot minute of work, I was done, he was free, and that, pretty much, was the last that we saw of him. The guy just drove off. Are you fucking kidding me?!?! Not a thanks, or even a wave. He just sort of kept on driving down the road as his car broke through its snowy barrier, with my help might I add. At 6:30 in the morning on a Sunday, 14 degrees out in two fucking feet of snow, walking my cute and lovable dog no less I stop to help this guy and he just drives off. This occurred no more than an hour ago and I am still in awe and shock at the audacity of this, well this asshole I guess. I really don't know what else to say and am curious to get Kool-Aid's input when she gets out of that warm, cozy bed that I can't seem to crawl back in to.

This behaviour doesn't stop there either. Note the British spelling of behavior back there, nice touch huh?? In any event, no more than I week ago I was at the dog park with Tessie Dog around, I don't know 5:30 in the afternoon or so. The dog park that we go to is about 2 miles away and is this long, about 1/3 mile, somewhat narrow fenced in area along a stream, or crick as I knew them growing up. A pleasant path surrounded by trees, small hills, doggie dug holes, rocks, and for all purposes completely covered in wood chips. While on our way out I happened to notice that there was a cell phone sitting on the ground. I asked the surrounded people if it had belonged to any one of them; all met me with the same answer, no.

So, I turned to Tessie and told her that we were to head back through the park real quick-like to ask everyone we came across if they had lost their cell phone. A lesser man might have just left it there but I like to think that the same would be done for me. So we walked, asking everyone along the way. Some asked me what the phone looked like. Really??? What did that matter?? Check your pockets, your phone is either there, or it wasn't. For the record, it was a Blackberry Storm, or Monsoon, or 30% Chance of Showers, or whatever those things are called. As we neared the far end of the park I saw that a gentleman, in his late 40's I'd say was walking out and heading towards his Mercedes. Even though I told her to wait Tessie girl ran and followed me out of the park as I jogged towards this fella. This is where I asked him a similar question to those I asked so many others just a few minutes earlier. While seated in his luxury automobile he conducted a half hearted search of himself and then cried: "Oh yeah, must have fallen out." He then proceeded to start his car, muttered "Thanks" while checking his phone and began to back up and drive away.

Now, I don't need to be fawned over when receiving a thanks for a job well done nor do I need some sort of pat on the back or a cash reward, but really buddy??? That was it?? It was clear that I had run around the park looking for this phone's owner and that I had ran over to him while my dog had followed me out of the said park without a leash might I add and you are so self involved that while checking to see what calls you missed you give me a this shotty thank you attempt. I feel naked should I leave my cell phone at home, I just don't feel right at all and you had it worse. You lost yours, granted you didn't notice it. Regardless, I took the time out of whatever I had going to bring this phone back to its rightful owner and some half assed thanks was what I was met with?? Not in my house Jackson. I need to start punching people more.

This is why I cannot wait to get out of this self absorbed town. Everyone has their own agenda. All think their shit don't stink and have this utter sense of me first. I must get ahead, that is all that their brains appear to be running on. That being said, I don't want this passage to seem as though I walk around going "Oh woh is me" all the time, that DC is ALL ASSHOLES, or that I think that I'm the tops cause I give a little extra effort for my fellow man. I just think that some of the behavior that I have run into down here is ridiculous, unacceptable, and uncalled for. To think that these people probably have all that they want I am struggling to make ends meet just makes me sick. I like to think that they don't have a kick-ass Kool-Aid, or a world class Tessie Dog, or an awesome mane of hair that flows like the rivers of the mighty Danube. They probably have a Plasma TV though....dammit!!

Day Full O' Dang It's

Yesterday, the Monday following the Super Bowl, was dang it filled. Audience, this is not a good thing. Had it been reverse dang it filled, then we have something completely different on our hands. But day was not loaded to the gills with cheese steaks, nor did it feature the Toast finding some much desired free loot. Hell, I didn't even get groped in the elevator at work. Instead, I was fortunate enough to bear through the following. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you, my day full o' dang its.

Dang It 1: Monday's dang its start early, alarm doesn't go off and I wake up at about 8am. Did I mention that I have a heap of shit to attend to at work, including an online Quickbooks training that starts bright and early?? I didn't??? Well, I had a heap of shit to attend to at work, including an online Quickbooks training that starts bright and early.

Dang It 2: Following the norm, which is a shave free weekend, I am in need of a clean shave only to discover that I am out of shave gel. I am forced to let loose a bar of soap to tackle my three days worth of stubble. This is not comfortable in the least and I now sport the severe razor burn to prove it.

Dang It 3: At this point in the morning I continue my Toastie Detox Jam '09 and take these cleansing pills that aid in the "process" if you get my drift. My recent work travels had me out of sorts for a few days. The return to Detox Jam '09 by consuming these cleansing pills open the flood gates as they say. I proceed to shit my brains out for a good ten minutes. By the way, I still haven't left for work yet and its about 9am.

Dang It 4: Looks like I'm not the only one late this morning as traffic is wicked. Not a good wicked ("Oh man, these potato skins are wicked!!!") More like witch of the west type wicked. This is not good for all involved, namely me.

Dang It 5: I need to get gas so I stop. I proceed to fill my tank but disregard pumping stoppage when I fail to hear the gas tank close off valve do it's work. Gas starts flooding the ground at my feet and just rushing out of the Passat with no name. I now smell like a varying grade of super unleaded as gas has gotten all over my hands and pant leg. Oh, that'll be good for business.

Dang It 6: Remember when I mentioned that I had a online training to attend? Well, this one sort of worked out as I read the time wrong and the class actually begins at 9:30 central, making it 10:30 am Toast Time. Although, you didn't think I could get away with it that easily did you?? Well, I didn't. The company that provides the training fails to send me the link to access the class and the phone number to dial in for the teleconference. 30 minutes later, all spent with customer service, I gain the required information and join up with class already in progress.

Dang It 7: I am now forced to sit through 8 plus hours of Quickbooks information. Sigh.....

Dang It 8: Stupid Toastie Detox Jam '09. I have to eat a salad for lunch and since I'm eating lunch at like 3pm because of this class, there is nothing left at the salad bar to choose from so I eat lettuce with carrots, peppers and onions. This isn't buffalo chicken nachos at all.

Dang It 9: Even though I have signed up for this training class, this does not give the Toast a get out of work free card. It is 6:45 at night and now I start what work I need to complete for tomorrow.

Dang It 10: I find out over the phone that a good friend is going through a rough patch with his special lady. The ever dreaded uber dang it!! I won't make any jokes about this; this kind of stuff sucks. I do my best to just offer to be there for a chat should it be needed. That being said, I want to find a weekend that I can head out his way for a visit. He lives in Boston, and I'm always up for a trip to Beantown. We'll just have to see whats in the the cards through the next few weeks as Boston isn't exactly around the corner. If I can swing a day off or two from work, I'll definitely do it.

Dang It 11: This is me being somewhat selfish. Kool-Aid is going through a rough patch at work, being that she works in HR and her company is currently executing a few "changes" at the office place. So, she's been working 'round the clock and been stressed out to the max. Why am I mentioning this?? Well, after a long day I'd like to be able to hang out with Kool-Aid and just forget about what ails us. Kool-Aid doesn't get home well after I, like 9:30 at night type of stuff. This is after she has been going into work all weekend and working super long hours for a few weeks now. And when we do hang around together, she's too burnt out or stressed out to really be there. It's frustrating, and difficult, and an all around dang it as I basically spent this last weekend, in it's entirety, alone. I know I shouldn't complain, and it's not her choosing. But what is this blog if it's not a place to just write shit out, vent, what-have-you. I remain, sitting idly by and taking it all with a grain of salt.

Well, there you have it. By the time I got home all that I was able to do for myself was to eat a couple of leftover peanut m&m's from the Super Bowl for dinner and watch a few episodes of 30 Rock to get me to forget about the crap day that I had. Oh, these dang it's don't stop here either. I forgot my lunch at home this morning. Faaaantastic. Eh...here's to keep on keepin' on I guess. It can't be all bad right??

Yeah, what that guy said!!

This little quote was taken from an ESPN.com article that I was reading this morning about 40 current baseball players that could also become potential MLB Hall of Famers. Oddly enough, while I whole heartedly disagree with the use of performance enhancing drugs in sport and these individuals that have been caught in the act are getting what they ultimately deserve for cheating the sport and it's fans; I am sorta pickin' up what this Schoenfield guy is puttin' down with his whole take on steroids and those ever-so-dear records in Major League Baseball.

25. Gary Sheffield
Not that anybody asked, but here's my opinion on the whole steroids issue: Who gave the baseball writers the right to be moral arbiters of the Hall of Fame? Are we supposed to pretend Mark McGwire's accomplishments didn't happen? You can't go back and rewrite history; McGwire competed in real games that counted in real standings, and he helped his team win a lot of those games. You can't erase that from the record books. It happened. You might disagree with how he achieved it, but it happened. It's not an issue of morality, and the BBWAA's anti-McGwire stance -- assuming his guilt -- isn't any different a witch hunt.

As for Sheffield, he probably doesn't have a snowball's chance of being elected under the current voting climate. He was linked to Barry Bonds and Victor Conte's cream; he wasn't the easiest guy to like. But he was a devastating hitter and helped his team win a lot of games. And isn't that the point?

A sidenote if I may; I do really hate Gary Sheffield. However, he was/still can be a devastating hitter, has helped his team win a lot of games, and still does scare the shit out of me when I see him in the batter's box. But yeah....I don't see him heading to the Hall at all. Not one bit.

So let me hit you with some knowledge.

Just let me rant here; vent if you will. The past few days of coming into work have been a little bit awkward and frankly, just plain depressing. Like many companies, mine is finding that the current state of the economy is causing the whole being successful and making money thing to be just a tad bit difficult. To deal with this, my company has decreased goals a bit and, more importantly, attempted to cut overhead. What is the easiest way to do that internet audience?? You guessed it, to cut jobs, which is what happened here at my office last Wednesday.

So, not gonna lie to you, things since are on edge here at the workplace, even though the rest of us have been told that we're safe. But the fact remains, once a few jobs and a bit of overhead has been chopped, what happens in six months when the economy continues to struggle?? My team had our weekly meeting this morning and it was as negative an atmosphere that I've been a part of in quite a while. I tried to do my best to bring some bright spots and energy in but that was quickly squashed by the negative attitudes that joined me in the room.

It's just such a difficult scenario to work in and I guess all that I am trying to do is go out and make it known, even if it is just me spitting out some of the random on this here blog. After my two hour morning meeting of shit, I just wanted to put on my coat, put my laptop in my bag, and hit the bricks. To be honest, I still want to do that as the expressions of every one's face around me clearly demonstrates where their mind is at. Maybe tomorrow will be different, but the empty offices around me suggest that it may very well take a little while for things to get normal-esque again. Oh well, at least "The Dark Knight" comes out tomorrow. That shit was the shit!!

"I like the lumberjack look bro."

I am glad to say that I live in a city that is basically just a collective grouping of fucktards looking to one-up each other. Unfortunately, when Kool-Aid and I moved down here, this little nugget of information was not in the brochure.

The district is full of some of the more pretentious folk that I have ever encountered. Everyone here has their own agenda and if you are not a part of it, or the sort that wears a fucking blazer on the weekend, well, you best look the fuck out cause that guy has some serious shit to get to and your courteous and all around pleasant demeanor certainly isn't helping. Dammit, I knew something was amiss when I saw so many scarfs being worn in the springtime; I....I just couldn't react.

The Toast was at a party this weekend and the following was uttered to me by collective bags of douche upon my meeting some apparent friends of friends:

"I like the lumberjack look bro."

I was wearing a flannel, nothing more, nothing less. I don't have a beard, nor an axe. No blue ox named Blue or a hat with the flaps to keep my ears warm. I just was wearing a flannel, with a Who t-shirt underneath it. Not even the classic red and black patterned flannel that one would associate with a lumberjack. Perhaps it should have been tucked in, or ironed?? Who knows really? What I want to figure out is, why is this out of the ordinary here??

What I've come to wonder is this, am I the only one who likes to be comfortable? I like to ROCK a bit so I know what I'm doing day to day, but simply put, I really don't care how I am dressed when I go out. I mean, I have a sense of style, but it is my own. I am not walking to the beat of someone else's drum and that is what I get from so many people here. They are so worked up on appearances that it is all they think about. I HAVE to get in to the best club. I HAVE to fucking dress to the nines all of the time, even at a random house party. I HAVE to wear my $200 jeans and they HAVE to be ironed when I do so. Better yet, I HAVE to wear the ones that have the strategically placed rips and imperfections. My jeans only start ripping away from hard work or the stress at the seams from all this ass.

I guess this is what I get for living in a city where so many people are chasing the dream, being a fucking ignorant pre-madonna whose shit don't stink with a wad of cash and a lexus hybrid. I mean, I recently saw a kid, had to be fresh out of college, walking down the street on a Friday night with his ladyfriend, smoking a pipe. WTF?? The kid looked like Sherlock Holmes. Where the fuck am I??? I mean, really, where am I??

On that note, I gotta run. I think my blackberry is ringing.