The Sweet Release of Death

Sep 2010

The Sweet Release of Death | Oct 2010 | Aug 2010

This Ain't No Picnic

09/28/2010 11:22 AM Filed in:Executive Hugs from Above

It’s company function time again here at Corporate Land, and with it comes another dose of Executive approved Guilt Tripping for those of us who chose not to attend this year Corporate Land Picnic. The picnic was held on a Saturday and come the following Monday, it was the Nazi Walk of Inquisition. The walk was carried out by one of the upper executive lieutenants, and performed with such guilt preaching panache; it would have made the Pope roll on all of his boy-touching priests. But not this cat. Nope not me. I got an alibi and I’m sticking to it. I was out of town. At least in my mind I was. As far as anyone calling my home phone was concerned, I was away. My cell phone too. It was carefully shut down and sequestered into a kitchen drawer.

The thing is, this little company-sanctioned hobnob is not mandatory, but by Christ you would think it was by the Guilt Hammer the Executives throw down 1 week prior, let alone the Guilt A-Bomb they ignite the Monday following. I should say that if there were one company event to go to, it would have to be the picnic. At least at the picnic The Executives don’t have an open mic and a trapped audience; they save that special Hallmark moment for the Christmas party… sorry the “Holiday” party.
Editors Note: A hearty Fuck You! Goes out to the fucking asshole zealot whack-jobs who get so “offended” by company Christmas parties and such. Just because Susie in Accounts Payable worships a ball of foil named Ronson, doesn’t give her the right to have my Christmas party title changed to “holiday” party to appease her and her fucked up ball of foil because she doesn’t believe in Christmas and having her co-workers force their pagan beliefs on her blah blah blah… So I say fuck you Susie and your ball of foil. And remember this: If we change our Christmas parties to “holiday” parties, the terrorists win.

Where was I? Oh yes, the picnic. So what’s my beef with the company picnic you ask? Well given that the Sun is a rather fickle presence here in the Northwest, that when it decides to show itself and let loose its golden rays of warmth, its usually between the months of June and August. By the time September arrives, the rain has usually muscled its way back and has cloaked the entire state in gray. Guess when Corporate Land decides to have its annual company picnic? That’s right, pilgrims. September. Priceless. Wanna play Horseshoes in the rain? Oh can I? Nothing beats a rousing game of Frisbee football in a cold, wet and empty state park.

Yes, the old picnic gets my cynicism firing on all cylinders. Like I said before, at least at the picnic there are no walls keeping you in. You can get away with a quick “Hi & Bye” if you succumb to the pre-function guilt trip. I’ve found that a company function on a Saturday is just another work day, only you don’t get paid; unless you find stone cold barbeque and beverage tumblers emblazoned with the Corporate Land logo appealing, its just another lame, company sanctioned kick in the nuts. Factor in that you have already spent five workdays with the terminally stupid, and now you’re expected to skip on out on a Saturday (your Saturday) and rub elbows with a group of people you would gladly hand over to a pack of Taliban henchmen with a head chopping fetish.

The company picnic is a beer commercial gone horribly wrong: Cue the downpour of rain; a group huddles under a lone, wood roofed picnic area. A gaggle of your most despised coworkers and their brat kids and, the kids of course are having a sugar-fueled shit fit. “ Mmm…Miller Lite taste great!” Says the miserable worker. “Yes it does. I’d say less filling but I just wanna get shit faced and puke on these fucking kids.” Says your buddy from the Metal Shop. Ah…work induced alcoholism. Is there any other form more fitting of saturating your brain with liquid escape? Shit, just looking at my boss brings about a cartoon thought bubble over my head of a liberally filled tumbler of Jack Daniels on Ice.

So this year (after many years of attending) I decided not to attend The Annual Corporate Land Employee/Family Picnic & Tapeworm Jamboree. My excuse for my absence, was incubated in a swampy Petri dish of indifference for the whole weekend, to be served fresh Monday morning to the Guilt Cops with a piping hot side of I don’t give a shit: “Where were you on Saturday?” quizzed the leather gloved Ops manager. “I was out of town…Oregon…Eugene to be precise.” I chirped. Proud of how smooth and graceful my alibi was executed. “Bullshit!” growled The Ops as he unleashed The Hairy Eyeball Of Scorn his focus, not unlike that of Mr. Spock in the deep throes of a Vulcan Mind Meld. As the Mr. Spock of Ops kept up with his Vulcan Guilt Beam, I activated my Buffy The Vampire Slayer “Puuuuhlease!” and sauntered back to my cubicle wasteland.

If they want me to feel guilty about something, then maybe I should go to the next company shindig and give them something to be pissed about. Maybe I’ll be the drunk guy at the company Christmas party. They say that you should refrain from being “The Drunk Guy” at company parties. At least that’s what they tell you in the magazines. Well I say “They” are pussies, hiding out in some corporate periodical Shangri la. Be The Drunk. Make it a night they’ll never forget. Think “Oscar caliber performance” as you guzzle down that bottle of Petron in the Hotel parking garage. Shit, there’s a 99 percent chance that there will be a live microphone! Snatch it and let loose! I can see it now: “ Hey fuckers! Lets burn this motherfucker (airport Hilton) down to the ground! Hey Nancy! Nice Tits! (Owners wife) Heeeeyyyyyyy!! Burp! Bob! I said hey Bob! Dude, you were right about bringing a hooker to the party! Yes! (At this point Bob’s wife gets up and leaves) Hey where is Tim? Tim? Tim buddy, where you hiding? There you are! Come out from behind the curtain you fucker! Hey Tim! I thought your parole officer said you couldn’t be left alone around small children?”
That little performance ought to set the Monday morning work confessional ablaze! Thats the price you pay for being the life of the party and as any priest will tell you, confessing your sins is no picnic.

Tags: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Miller Lite, Taliban, Christmas,

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It Happened At The Fair: Final Chapter

09/03/2010 11:20 AM Filed in:Life on the Outside

She pulled the tall, cold glass to her lips. Its surface covered in a beaded sweat from the thick, hot summer air. As the beer slid down her throat, its chilled form washed away the sin administered to the rambunctious 5 year old not too long ago. P-did stared down at her shoes in a brief moment of remorseful reflection. Fuck! I got the little bastards blood on my shoes! Yeah! And I need a drink! Peppered D-mono the finished their drinks quickly and began exiting the beer garden in a hurried pace. A paleness washed over P-did's face "Oh Fucking hells bells! Its my parole officer!" her words fell like broken glass. " we need a drink!" eschewed D-mono.

They quickly jaunted into the 4-H livery weeded themselves amongst the giant Clydesdales. " what a big fucking ass that horse has!" Giggled P-did in a fit of release. At that brief moment of lightness D-mono felt a presence behind her. An un-nerving force that made her shudder and mutter "I really need a drink" "Hi" floated the hot breath into her ear. "I'm Jake and you are so fine" I NEED A FUCKING DRINK! D-mono yelped in a rage befitting of a Scottish warrior, spinning round in tornado-like blur grabbing a bridle hanging on the stable wall, she wrapped leather strap around her could-be lover's neck and dispatched him with the speed of light. "but you're so ho..t.." fell the last words from his lips. The event happened so quickly that D-mono did not notice the twin 8 year old girls hiding behind the hay bales. "shoosh...I need a drink" she whispered to the shocked twins as she raised here finger in front of her lips. "holy fucking shit! Clenched P-did. I can't take you anywhere!" as they scurried out of the stables a flock of pigeons lay before them circling, plucking seeds and other detritus from fairgrounds path. Fucking birds! Exclaimed P-did as she swung her foot wildly at the birds, kicking the less fortunate ones to pieces that were unable to out-fly her wrath.

As they mercilessly weaved themselves back into the crowd, D-mono slipped behind the vengeful P-did, she slowly reached for her flask and once again brought it to her lips. The whiskey slowly rolling over her tongue. In a panic stricken flash, the presence was felt again from behind " you're kinky... I like that in my girls" his hot-breathed words slithered into her ear. "I'm Jake and you got me switched on!" he pressed himself into her back. Her nemesis she thought dead by her own hands had risen in more ways than one and was slowly regaining his color as she was rapidly losing her cool. I need a fucking drink!! She screamed. Her heart raced, sweat poured out like river water.. Diana! Wake up! Your having a nightmare! As she opened her groggy eyes a heavenly vision stood above. Sun danced over her red locks as craved attention from above. Oh Laurie! It was horrible! Penelope was mean and we were lesbians, and we both killed people and.. And..Jake was.. Oh my... It's ok Laurie said with a soothing voice. "It was just a dream. Hey, lets get you a drink.

Tags: Clydesdales, PArole Officer,

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It Happened At The Fair: Part 2

09/02/2010 11:19 AM Filed in:Life on the Outside

As the pair stumbled out of the beer garden and back into the swarm of fair goers, they were separated by a massive wedge of tourists. As D-mono shrieked a nervous call out for P-did, further up ahead in the crowd P-did was almost clipped at the knees by a five year old boy from Yelm. As D-mono frantically surged forward, she could see a glimmer of P's chestnut hair through the thick crowd. P! She shouted. I need another drink! At that moment, D-mono saw in a flash the burst of chestnut dart behind a Pretzel stand. D jumped from the crowd as if it were a speeding train. As she rounded the corner behind the Pretzel stand, what lay before her was straight out of Poe classic. P-did was knelt before her, her back to D-mono's shocked face. Oh my god! I need a drink... She whispered like the breath of a dying man. Shut the fuck up! P-did threatened with clenched jaws. "the little fucker cut me off and almost tripped me! He had to go!" her words dripped with defiance as she wiped the blood from her lips. "Help me put this little fucker in the trash, bitch" she barked to D-mono who quivered with fear and repeatedly looped " I need a beer. I need a beer" See what happens when you leave my side? She quipped emphatically to D. "now lets go get us another beer so I can get this god awful obnoxious taste out of my mouth"

As the two headed back upstream to the beer garden, D-mono, still shaking from the carnage that she stumbled upon, slowly pulled a silver flask from her back pant pocket, an answer her own murmured calls for liquid salvation. She slowly trailed behind P-did and raised the flask to her trembling lips. Two discreet pulls later, she quickly slid the flask back to its resting place safely by her hip. Come on! Shouted P "I need a fucking drink now!" As the two re-entered the beer garden, the screams from the patrons aboard the old, wooden roller coaster matched the screams in D-monos head. It had been a half hour and yet the beer garden crowd had been erased and filled in again like a school teacher's blackboard. " if that tramp doesn't get her skinny ass over here pronto for my drink order, I'm gonna fucking lose it!" P-did scowled. “Yeah... I need a drink too.” Lumbered D-mono. To be continued...

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It Happened At The Fair: Part 1

09/01/2010 11:17 AM Filed in:Life on the Outside

It’s State Fair time here in the Pacific Northwest and with that, plenty of my co-workers take the time to trundle on down to the Fair and partake in the consumption of Beer, deep-fried corn on the cob, Monster Trucks and 3rd rate entertainers. The following tale is of co-worker mingling after hours and away from the stifling confines of Corporate Land. The names have been change to protect the overtly amorous. TSROD

The massive crowds corralled through the fields of carnival barkers and swarthy thrill ride attendants. The smell of deep fried food hovered in the air like a thick perfume of failure. These fucking people are driving me crazy! Exclaimed P-diddy Sward to her BBF, D-Mono. Yep quipped D. Lets get a drink she purred. And once that phrase was released, a magical beer garden appeared just beyond the large couple in front of them. Ugh! If these fat asses get out of the way, we could maybe get a drink! Buzzed P. her words cutting through the thick buttery air like a samurai sword. Yeah! Lets get a drink purred D-Mono. As they approached the heaving beer garden, their anticipation was palpable. I can't wait to get a drink! purred D-Mono. Yeah, atoned P, They better not be any creepy guys next to us. Yeah! And I can't wait to get a drink purred D-Mono, sweat building on her upper lip with the thought of golden suds of bliss racing through her head. As the two friends anxiously jockeyed to an open seat in the back, the roar of the Monster Trucks jamboree clamored in the air, and rang home to the heart like a hillbilly national anthem. God I love monster trucks! P-diddy mused. Yeah! And I can't wait to get a drink! Purred little D-mono. As the barmaid slithered herself through the thick crowd towards the pair for their order, P-diddy let out a look of scathing contempt to the barmaid. "what a whore" she let out a screed. "As if" see continued. Yeah! And I can't wait to get a drink! D-mono purred.

As the barmaid approached the pair, a thought of utter disdain filled her trailer park heart, of having to deal with yet another pair of rambunctious lesbians. At least the ones before this duo were cordial and tipped well. She braced herself with the thoughts back to how nice those two were and exercised the idea of maybe turning for them, but stopped short of the idea as one was a Mexican and the other had flowing red hair and carried a horse whip. The gurgle of phlegm attached to the most despicable call out of "eh hem" snapped her out of her L word escape, "I'd like two Pale ales and a Hefe for the little one" directed P-did, the words marching out of her pursed lips like tiny soldiers of hate, Yeah! And I'd like a beer! purred D-Mono. The barmaid took their condescension with a grain a salt and spun her heels back towards the bar. Come here sweets, beckoned P to D with a look that laid her out naked like an artists blank canvas. "I'm gonna own you today" P–Did murmured to D-mono in a fascist tone. Yeah! And I want another drink! Squeaked D-mono. As the two entwined friends held court at the back of the beer garden, those around them gazed upon the pair with fevered regard that bordered on voyeurism. The spectacle that was presented was in line with late night cable precision. As the Monster trucks roared in the distance, P-did's heart raced with the thought of another beer and maybe an elephant ear. Yeah.. Definitely an elephant ear she simmered with the thought. She gazed into D-mono's eyes and pounded out Fuck Yeah! An elephant ear and another beer is gonna kill the pain! Yeah! And I want a drink too! Cooed D-mono As the two received yet another round, P-did espoused of her disdain for the "fucking in-bred fucking hicks that I fucking hate with all of my fucking black, callous, cold fucking heart" Yeah! Maybe they'll buy me a drink chirped D-mono with a sort of drunk cuteness that was delivered like an 8 week old puppy. Shut the fuck up! Pounded P into the table with a total authority that is bred only by 8 years in a Women's prison. Finish your fucking drink bitch! I need an elephant ear. To be continued...

Tags: Monster Trucks, Beer, Horse whip, Pacific Northwest