Ode to the Weird

She’s old and dumpy, her salt and pepper hair was androgynous and frightening close to my own hair due, the result of shaving my head seven months ago and just letting it grow. I wonder if she had a similar approach.

Dolly is fat enough her gut sagged to her knees. She displayed an ability to embrace a sense of obliviousness that included ignoring the fact that other people were in the room.

I was both impressed at the ability, and, as she paused the steady feed of off brand potato chips to pound on her chest and cough a mighty cough, I realized, appalled. She wiped the screen off with the sleeve of her stonewashed sweater that I don’t think she could have zipped up if she wanted.

I consider myself to be more honest than cruel while taking none of the responsibility when the two seem inseparable. I’ve heard there is no greater population of minorities that are openly mocked than those of the obese, and so I want to be clear, this account of Dolly isn’t written to defame that population at all.

See, she has too many foibles to ignore! Her massive girth is coincidental or possibly just a bonus. Her indifference is what gets to me. I say indifference because she has the ability to pay attention. She’s simply not interested in the rest of the world. And I suspect she’d wear stretchy pants even it weren’t on her list of options.

Her job includes her talking on the phone. Dolly is the loudest person on the floor, and she never leaves. For her hour lunch, she hefts herself out of her chair and waddles down the hallway to clock out.

She pulls herself along with a slow lurches that include her whole body. It’s hard enough on her she gasps the whole way and pauses halfway down the twenty foot stretch of hallway to catch her breath.

Back she comes to play solitaire and eat chips for an hour and work on the 64oz of soda she brings encased in a bright yellow mug—that is strangely absent of NASCAR markings.
Her cell phone is on vibrate, and when she gets a call you can hear it from three rooms away. Why that’s less obtrusive than a ring.

She has loud phone conversations in the bathroom. I hope to god she’s finished her business and is milking her bathroom break, rather than the horriblely efficient alternative.

She puts her phone on hold rather than pushing a mute button. The difference being pushing mute stops the person on the phone from hearing anything on your end, while pushing hold puts the customer on hold which gives you ten seconds before the phone starts beeping a beep that suggests there is a large vehicle backing up somewhere.

She makes a random, “Pshhhhaaaaaw,” sound for no apparent reason.

You can’t help but notice Dolly, and she’s just weird enough I would be upset if she didn’t work here.

A Question of Truth

The next sentence is true. The previous sentence was a lie.

Something about paradox is fascinating to me. Maybe it's because I view it as the father, or at the very least, the grandfather of hypocrisy.

Army of Bastards

Hi everyone!

I want to help support people in their endeavors. Generally speaking, cooperation over competition has always had more appeal to me. I thoroughly enjoy a good competition though. I gladly admit that.

In fact, today, I’m asking for you guys to cooperate out a fellow bastard comptete. His name is Kevin; and he wants to peddle into Hell.

Ok, not literally into the unholy plane or even in a Dante’s Inferno kind of way. He wants to ride there along with three other men and four other women. You can click HERE for the details or just sit there, shut up and read my version of the gist of things.

Riders will get to Downievill, California to face at least 70 miles of off-road terrain and should expect about 12,000 feet of climb and can expect areas of exposure. Then men will race Mark Weir and the females are taking on Rachel Weir.

Both riders are good enough they’re giving all riders an hour head start, and to win one must simply finish within an hour of the finishing time and they win a $5000 mountain bike. Piece of cake, right?

Wrong! This is the fifth Hell Ride, and there has yet to be a winner.

To vote for Kevin, click HERE. You’ll have to enter a valid email and then check your inbox to verify the vote by clicking a link. I’ve done it many a times and haven’t gotten a lick of spam from it. Don’t be scared! Do the right thing and help send Kevin to hell!

Remember people! I’m always interested in helping my fellow bastards out—so if you have a cause that needs some attention—let me know. My Bastard’s Ears are open and my army is gathering.