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Wednesday, January 23, 2008


Banality of Bureaucracy
Current mood: bored
Category: News and Politics

Or, What Happened at the Social Security Administration's Card Center at 7:30 in the Morning.

I first tried to get my social security card at 3:00 pm on last Friday, but Social Security, due to some weird homeland security crap, now individually checks out each person trying to get into the building, with the full airport rigamarole. I thought it was some sick joke, standing in a line of 50 people, until I realized, after them taking three minutes to process one person, that they would continue at their snail's pace. I didn't have enough time to get in and get my biz handled.

So I left, vowing never to return, to instead handle all things with the government via mail (and thus staying a safe distance away from them in the process).

My vows are so easily broken. Probably why I'm never getting married. But I digress.

I returned Tuesday morning, thinking (correctly, because I'm a fucking genius) that no one messes with bureaucrats before noon. Place opened at 7 a.m., and I ride up at 7:30-ish.

There are two sets of double-doors to get in the place. Naturally, I choose the wrong set... not that they're labelled. There's a roped-off lane for the furthest right door, and I'm directed by security to use that single door, since the left-hand side of the double-door is locked (the other double doors were both open, but whatever).

It's empty. I mean, fucking ghost town empty. Yet three security guards at the ground floor. 3 minutes later (they're almost like clockwork, must be a social security thing, like their checks), I'm on my way up to the sixth floor, where the actual office is (security checkpoint is on the first floor).

Empty. Ghost town. Two security guards at the front of the lobby area. Glass encased office fronts all around, about thirty stations total. Roped off area for a line, but there's no one here.

Nonetheless, a security guard is up on me. "You gotta have a number ticket," and he's punching something into a computer terminal near the door I just walked through. A paper receipt is printed, and he hands it to me.

Slightly bewildered, "you're kidding, right? There's NO ONE HERE!"

He looks at me gravely, "No, no I'm not. And stay between the gray and black roped area - that's the line. I'll escort you there."

Yes, yes folx, he escorted me to the line, and then instructed me to go to the front of the line, and wait to be called. While tempting, I didn't ask if he'd send me to the back of the line if I cut, or went around the roped area.

I get the call before I hit the front of the non-existant line, "I'll take you here..."

Nice lady, I think, and walk up.

"I need your ticket number."

"Uhh... there's no one else here."

"Don't care, have to see if you're next."

I look around the still empty lobby. The security guard is already back to the front, and conversing with his coworker. "You're kidding, right? There's no one here!"

"Don't care. Give me the ticket, or you're not getting service."

Goddamn. I hand her the ticket, and it's back to pleasant mode. Three minutes later, I'm done handling my business... just in time to see another bewildered person enter the lobby, and get directed to the line, even though there's still no one waiting in the line, and 10 open offices.

Nothing like procedure.

12:45 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Thursday, January 17, 2008


Hideous? Will you be my dentist?
Current mood: amorous
Category: Life

So once again I'm at the dentist.

It happens a lot to me, because I spent about seven years not taking care of my teeth, then I started taking care of them, and wound up with the worse dental care for about seven and a half years. My mouth is the true veteran of the drug war. Que sera, sera, right?

First off: my dentist and oral surgeon are both too fucking hot for a hetero like myself to really go to. While it's rare for me to derive a health benefit from some beautiful woman giving me pain (I'm quite used to beautiful women giving me pain, but it's usually emotional rather than physical), such is the case with both of them. This is not my point - my point is that it's really fucking hard to get your grill worked on, while trying to check out your health care provider.

It's probably why so many women think men are pigs - it doesn't matter that I want to scream in pain from the needle dig into my jawline, or the first drilling session because I'm a little resistant to novacaine, I'm STILL trying to check out my dentist (or oral surgeon, but she was doing the root canal).

I mean, I'm quite sure I could be having my leg SAWED OFF by my oral surgeon, and I would be thinking in my head "well, shit, I bet that'll increase the available positions..." or something else that's truly inappropriate.

And it makes me stupid... "so, do you want me to [go on a date with you] try and prep a crown, or prep an extraction and think about getting a post and implant?"

"Yes!"
"Well... which one?"
"Oh yeah, my bad. Let's try to cap it."
"Gold for durability, or porcelain for cosmetic appearance?"
"Yes! I mean, damn, uhh.. gold. I don't care about matching teeth."

I'm not that vain, after all - just strike dumb by beautiful women. I swear, next time, I'm asking if they're ugly first. "Hideous? Sign me up!"

6:45 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove


Just saw in the Stranger...
Current mood: argumentative
Category: Blogging



BOOZE: Not Even One Sip.


7:45 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Tuesday, January 15, 2008


Baruch Big Willie Town, Holla!
Current mood: anxious
Category: Religion and Philosophy

I've been told before: fear Jewish armies, and Italian Gangsters.

However, as I've said so many times before, I've been lied to my
entire life. You gotta fear them Jewish Gangsters, because
they're out there, and they're ready for some serious trouble.

They're easy to spot - all gangs are. They got them brimmed hats,
dress in their gang color - black, and all have the same
hairstyle, a miracle since curly forelocks just don't exist on
normal people with straight hair. They even have their own gang
slang. "Baruch Atoh Adonai, Elahaynu, Melech Ho-Alum" "Shalom,"
and "Sheimah, Israel!"

Hasidim are Jewish Gangsters.

They roll Williamsburg thick. Day in, day out, they hit the
streets like a pack of wolves, in sheep's clothing. They're
neither nice nor rude, with an air of polite indifference to
everyone around them.

I know what's going on though - behind the closed doors, after
the sun sets, at the Schuyl - the brims tip sideways, the fat
gold chains come out, and it's top shelf wine, glocks and gats,
waving blunts and lighters in the air, "Wessyde, Brooklyn!"

I know what "Shalom, Manishmah" literally means - "Peace, Man."

But I can translate from their gang-speak: "Piece, man." As in,
"you fuck with us Hasidim, you're gettin' a piece of a glock,
goy," or "You wanna PIECE of this black badass brim, bitch?"

I keep my head low in Big Willie Town, home of the original
Hasidim gunclappers. No eye contact, and keep it movin'.

And I keep a Star of David around my neck, in case of emergency.
It's my Jewish ghetto-pass.

6:01 AM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Friday, January 11, 2008


The Media Whore Strikes Again!
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oew-vohryzek11jan11,0,4162314.story?coll=la-opinion-center

One Love

8:08 AM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Thursday, January 10, 2008


Fuq Huffy!
Current mood: infuriated
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes

So I'm trying to get home again last night, and lo and behold, a random dude on a bike has a flat.

Being an uber-geek, I've got my kit handy... got his flat fixed in about ten minutes, which is pretty fucking fast when you're on a lower Manhattan street, trying to watch your back and fix a flat at the same time.
He rides off (I refused compensation, I'm trying to be good like that) with a "Thanks, Malakkar!" and I figure my karma's good for the night.

Five blocks later, my fucking crank arm snaps off, and I'm stuck trying to one-side peddle my ass up the Manhattan bridge. It's already close to 7, when the bike shop on Vanderbilt closes, so lower Manhattan and downtown Brooklyn is entertained by the dipshit breaking all traffic rules on a jalopy bike, who's sweating bullets.

Get to the bike shop, and it's closed, but the karma pays off - the guy was still there, and let me drop the bike off. Looking at the pedal, and the crank arm, it looks like Huffy decided to make at least the inside of the arm (not the shell of it) out of DIE CAST METAL!

Hey Huffy: Fuck You!

6:06 AM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove