Friday, May 27, 2005

Bikini Clad Succubus

The sun was blazing across my back patio, melding through the sliding glass door and creating a vacuum of unbearably uncomfortable heat.

I dove into my chester drawers seeking the swimming trunks that will cover my shame so I can enjoy a little pool time.

I quickly remove all my clothes and pull my aging swimming trunks up.

Hmm. Something's wrong here.

I pull the two strings together and double tie the knot. Apparently I've lost a considerable amount of weight since last summer, because my 28" trunks are way too loose.

Fucking dialysis.

I attempt to tie them in such a way that the bunch I've created with my lack of mass is less conspicuous.

Before my vision even takes in the inviting pool, I hear screaming brats.

This doesn't bode well for the rest and relaxation part of my weekend.

I make my way through the gate and the warm weather has gone and pulled every freakish degerate from my apartment complex to its cool confines.

To the left of the pool is the clinically obese breeding mare for the state. I would estimate she tips the scales at 350-400 pounds and she's attempting to wear a suit that isn't clever enough to hide that fact. She's stuffing her face with Doritos and taking in a new issue of People while her two spawns are fighting over the inflatable SpongeBob.

They scream. She ignores them. They start to hit one another. Jabba stops the gluttony.

"Goddamnit, Mommy's readin' her magerzine. Shut the fuck up."

The kids quiet down. One starts to cry. I wonder where Big Brother is.

To the right of the pool is a striking young woman who seemingly is unaware of the travesty taking place in the shallow end.

Her raven hair was tied back tight into a bun, revealing her shapely jawline. Her milky skin shouldn't have been allowed to endure sun like this. Her figure formed jet black bikini revealed a figure one could spend days exploring. Her sunglasses held the secret of whether she was sleeping through all the poolside horror.

The only available chair in the entire area was directly next to her, so I made my way in that direction.

"Are you saving this chair for anyone?" I softly asked.

No response.

I figure she must be dozing, so I start to place my poolside comforts around the chair. I'm facing her as I take off my shirt and I witness her tilt her head in my direction.

I smile and say, "Hello," hoping today is my lucky day.

She slowly uses her left hand to remove her sunglasses as her right hand begins to expose the middle finger.

"Fuck you."

Sunglasses went back in their proper place and her head turned back to its normal resting position.

"Fuck you back whore. Who the fuck do you think you are, Queen of the Fucking Willow Side Apartments? Fuck you and the skanky fucking horse you rode in on."

That's what I should of said.

Instead, my self esteem shriveled up and crawled back behind my skinny ass. I could feel my stomach turn in on itself. My balls were trying to flee into my ass, but my swim trunks were preventing any such movement.

A heavy sigh left my body as I muttered a "fuck this" under my breath. I started to gather my things when I noticed the beautiful figure sitting next to me begin to morph into something more hideous.

Her beautiful full lips began to swell up and looked charred and burned. Her raven hair burst into dark orange flames. The milky skin became slimy, dripping from her frame to the cement below her chair.

All that remained was the truth.

She tried to snap at me, but I displayed no fear. I remained stone faced.

This caused her pain, incredible icky pain.

She tried to lunge toward me, but I was too quick and she ended up in the pool.

While she was thrashing about, she managed to wrap her tentacles around the two brats who had been causing all the destruction earlier.

Apparently she was hungry, because they went down her throat nice and clean.

Their mother, still shoving Doritos down her gullet, was too interested in Brad Pitt's abs and a delicious ad for a Triple Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy's to really show any concern.

Thus, my mission was complete.

One bitch down, unfortunately, so many left to endure.

That has been my lot in life, to be treated horribly by beautiful women who believe their status to be higher than mine.

All I'm looking for is my own Winona Ryder angel.

On the cracked, concrete shores of my aging complex pool is probably not where I should be looking.

Sigh.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Diminishing Returns

You have no idea the travesties I have to endure on a daily basis. Because I work in the "media", certain individuals are allowed to get away with certain actions that would most likely get you fired in the real world.

Let's see if I can introduce you to these frightening characters without IQ points bleeding from your ears.

The one that irritates me much like having your skin set on fire is this idiot they just can't seem to fire who works for our News Talk outlet. He's a frickin' moron. And I use the phrase "frickin" lightly. He has been caught viewing porn, at work, during regular business hours, twice and still is employed here. What's worse, they made him Employee of the Month! He also dates women from escort services and then calls them his "girlfriend" and flaunts them like it's Christmas morning.

Fucking retard.

I'm sorry. Let me retract that because it's insulting to mentally challenged people.

Fucking imbecile.

Then there's the sales's executive who hops on new sales guys minutes after they've started working here. I'm sorry missey, but fucking ugly guys does not make you a success, unless you're qualifying in the Herpes Olympics.

Now let me introduce you to the new part-timer who, when he worked here previously many years ago, walked into the studio when one of our married weekend jocks was on the air. He looked her dead in the eye, removed her wedding ring and told her with a straight face, "You won't be needing this when we're together."

The company ended up paying for a psychologist becuase she was so traumatized.

The following week we had to endure the most painful sexual harrassment meetings you've ever experienced. The videos had bad acting and inappropriate humor. Karma has been kind since he's fat and bald now. Maybe he should hang out with the guy who loves porn.

The midday guy at the rock station is also a piece of work. He has a beautiful, exotic girlfriend, but that's not good enough for him. He attempts to seduce a different female employee on a daily basis. He left the company a year ago and told all of us to fuck off because he was going to Chicago to join the Groundlings and become famous. Now he's on a radio station in Santa Rosa of all places. I wonder if the pride he swallowed was tasty...

But after this rogue's gallery of insult, there is one individual who tops them all...

And I work for him.

Lucky me.

Every two or three days, it's my job to repair things he's managed to foul up. And let's say something does go wrong, and he gets called on it, he tells the staff it's my fault.

Thus, I am proud to announce my promise to you.

I'm seeking new employment outside the radio industry.

This will be a welcome relief to the ears of listeners across Northern California. I just can't take it anymore.

But why have I stayed so long you ask?

I used to love radio.

Each day I would look forward with great anticipation to the first moment of the show when I would open up the mic and my imagination could push any idea I had into the forefront of listener's ears.

But radio, she is a tough mistress to keep.

I feel as though she has cheated on me, and continues to do so. And every time I find out, I simply say, "That's ok honey," as I turn around, bend over, and allow myself to take it up the exit door.

I'm tired of the long hours and miniscule pay. I'm tired of working for people I wouldn't normally socialize with outside of work. I'm tired of trying to bring up current events and have people tilt their head to one side and give me that look as though I'm speaking a foreign language.

People in radio are narcissistic, self-important, egotistical, mindless drones who believe that since they're paid to talk through a microphone that they hold some special power over the rest of us.

And I can't wait until satellite radio puts most of them out of work.

Thank you and good night.