Crazypants

People are crazy. Everyone I know and everyone you know is at least a little crazy. It's what makes life interesting and entertaining! Watching people try and convince others that they are, in fact, perfectly sane and normal is what keeps us alive. I worked for a crazy person once. Well, I have worked for many crazy people as I believe a prerequisite for being in charge of something demands a particular level of insanity. My crazy employer is best known as Crazypants. Lets call him Captain Crazypants because it sounds good.

Doorstops.

The first time I realized that Crazypants was actually Captain Crazypants happened late one week night. I share an office with three co-workers, one of which was off and another was missing when Captain Crazypants needed him...RIGHT NOW! Captain Crazypants looked everywhere, all four floors of our fine facility and just could not find him and it made him MAD! The missing co-worker was one of our very few bilingual employees and we needed to translate for some potential clients at that very moment. Mostly because Captain Crazypants couldn't figure out that these particular clients were no longer interested in our product and very much wanted to leave. Unfortunately for them they bumped into the Captain on their way out and craziness ensued. The clients managed to slip out whilst an increasingly maddening Captain Crazypants frantically searched our facility for our missing, bilingual co-worker. The missing co-worker finally turned up (moments after Captain Crazypants declared, "He had better turn up or he'll be out of a job!") and calmed the good Captain down.

However, Captain Crazypants was still rather redfaced and needed to expend this negative energy someway so he decided it was time to randomly dictate a task to myself.

"I need you to go around the whole facility and collect all the door stops, wipe them down,s curb them really good and then put them all in one of the drawers in your storage area so that they all will be in one place. be sure to leave a note for the secretary so she can make a note indicating that this is where all the doorstops go."

I looked at him rather blankly.

"You see, you never know when you we will suddenly have a special event and we will need to prop open all the doors in the facility at once. Don't forget to leave a note for the secretary and wipe them down real good."

And so it was...I collected all the doorstops and placed them in the appropriate drawer and left the note for the secretary. I did not scrub them real good though. I am such a rebel.

Asians.

It was early on a Friday and Captain Crazypants strolls into our office:

"You know what we really need?"

He looked at me as if I should already know the answer to this random and subject less question.

"More Asians! How can we get more Asians in here?"

Again, he looked to me as if I had a plan in place and I only needed his approval to initiate 'Operation get More Asians.' I simply shrugged and said, "Uhhh...I don't know?" By coincidence an Asian person happened to walk by the window.

"Ah, there goes one now! Get him! (Ha HA) Seriously though, we really ought to have more Asians here, don't you think? How can we get more Asians?! I KNOW! I have an Asian friend that works in a bank, I'll go call him and see what he thinks! Later guys!"

He left and I have never heard another word about getting more Asians.

Dirty Chair Wheels.

Last winter we had new computers delivered and installed. Well, I should say that we had new computers delivered and myself and a couple of other co-workers had to unload the truck and help with the installation. This to save Captain Crazypants all the trouble of hiring people that know what they are doing. Captain was sure that we would be able to install some eighty new computers (and remove the eighty old ones) in a single weekend. Naturally, the project dragged on for two weeks. Consultants were hired for the networking but they only did the wiring they did not do any of the actual physical work of installing the machines. So, the whole process was messy and stupid from the get-go however the best part didn't happen until the very end of the process.

I was manning the store front while my co-workers were busy re-arranging one of the offices that contained some twenty or so of the new machines. They had to take out all the old machines, fix up all the desks and chairs in the room then put in the new machines. Lucky for me, I had nothing to do with that project until right when I was putting on my jacket to leave for the day...Enter Captain Crazypants:

"Oh you're not leaving already are you? Can you do me a favor? I need you to go up and help the security guard move some leftover chairs into the storage room behind your office, ok?"

Seemed reasonable enough, moving chairs only takes a few minutes, no problem! So, I go upstairs to find that there are twelve chairs left and the security guard informed me that he already cleaned them so all we have to do is cover them with garbage bags and roll them on down to my storage room. Not a problem. So, I proceed to cover the twelve chairs (which were stacked in pairs) with garbage bags and the security guard and I were just about to roll the chairs down to the freight elevator approximately thirty feet away. Captain Crazypants intervened:

"No, no I want those chairs completely covered."

Blank look from me, "Well, they are?"

"No, the bottoms are still exposed. I don't want those wheels to get dirty while you bring them down to the storage room. You see, I want those cleaned real good and covered so that if one of the chairs in the office happens to break we can just run down and grab a new one and drop in there without having to clean the wheels again!"

I stifled a laugh. The Captain pointed knowingly at his head,

"See! I'm always thinking ahead, saves us work down the road!"

So, we turned over all the stacks of covered chairs and tied off the garbage bags so that the wheels on the chairs would not get dirty. We then had to carry the chairs down to the freight elevator and up into my storage room. This five minute job then became a thirty minute job which I got overtime for.

Thinking ahead indeed.

Paranoid Suspicions.

A little while ago our organization was under review by a group of peers from our field. Captain Crazypants had spent the better part of the year being obsessed with passing this review. For whatever reason, the Good Captain was certain the presentation of our facility was paramount to passing this review. So he spent large amounts of time cleaning, making others clean and ordering new furniture and fussing over the colors of said new furniture. He even had painters in to re-paint walls that hardly needed a paint job. Though that was worth it to see a regular old plain yellow be converted to a neon yellow one might only see in a juice box. As the date of our review loomed ever closer Captain Crazypants became more frantic culminating in this:

"I need you to close the facility down an hour early on Saturday."

Again, I gave what had become a trademark blank look of non-understanding.

"See, the chairperson of the review committee is flying in at about 12:30 on Saturday and I know that he is coming early to get a jumpstart on our review over the rest of the Committee. Ya see, one of the other committee members is also a Captain just like me and the chairperson isn't a captain. So, he is probably worried that this other captain is going to run roughshod all over his chairmanship so he is going to want to bone up on Saturday. The rules state that the committee must review together so we can't have that. So, I need you to close this place up tight, lock it up like a drum and get out of here no later than 1 pm. I would pick him up myself but then he will twist my arm and get int here anyways...So we can't have that so I sent another co-worker to pick him with specific instructions to STALL! He will act sick, or act like he is starving and has to get something to eat..Anything to keep that Chairperson away from the facility on Saturday. I don't want him to even see the exhaust from your car when he gets here, ok?"

This is funny for several reasons: Number one is that I am closing down an entire business during regular Saturday hours based simply on Captain Crazypant's paranoid suspicion that this other Captain is planning to somehow 'run roughshod' all over this chairperson's honorary authority. Not because it is actually going to happen or because the chairperson actually wants to get in early to bone up on our documentation. It is also a good time to point out that all the documentation they are set to review has already been mailed to the chairperson, the other Captain, the rest of the review committee and most of the Organization's staff. Essentially, Captain Crazypants is going through this ridiculous plan is so that he can avoid having to come in on Saturday.

The real surprise is that we passed that review with flying colors leading me to believe that everyone in this field must be as crazy and full of shit as we are.

Happy Shapes

Man, I love cereal.

I have eaten cereal for as long as I can remember very nearly every day of my life. Probably not every day but damn close. You would think that by now I would be completely fucking sick of eating cereal. How much dry, sugary crap with skim milk poured over it can one man take? I have no answer to that question as I have yet to reach that limit in nearly 32 years of existing. I eat many varieties depending on my mood and my taste particularly when I am in the store making my cereal selections. Sometimes I feel like fooling myself a little and buy something that represents itself as being vaguely nutritious, Frosted mini-wheats, some variety of raisin bran or even better a raisin-nut-fiber concoctive will work. Other times I like to get some over-sugared, marshmallow laced crap.

There are many more varieties of over-sugared, marshmallow laced crap out there on the market. Growing up I was always a big fan of the monster cereals. You remember those, Frankenberry, Count Chocula, Boo Berry and occasionally (depending on where you were) you might find Fruity Yummy Mummy. To me, those cereals reigned supreme should you be in the mood for some marshmallowed goodness. The old standard in marshmallow cereals has been (and may remain today) Lucky Charms. I never liked them due to a shitty aftertaste and the notion that the cereal parts were bland, out numbered the marshmallows something like 6 to 1 and had the exact same shapes as the goddamn cat food. Poo on that shit.

These days, living in my own, private 'adult-a-verse' I have found myself adverse to the brand name cereals largely due to the fact that an average box of cereal in my area tend to run around 4 or 5 fucking dollars. Why does cereal cost so much these days? It can't possibly be the production of the actual cereal can it? How can that have changed so much over my short life?! It hasn't, you're paying for a brand name, it's aggressive advertising campaign and mostly because they will charge as much as you can pay. Which sucks.

My solution, generic cereals! Yes, one might feel a little sad shopping for their breakfast cereals from the metal bins near the end of the aisle. You know the bins because you pass them all the time and wonder why anyone would want their cereal in a plastic bag as opposed to all these bright colored boxes featuring characters that may have been with us all of our lives. I like saving a buck and I have no problem buying my cereal in a bag. Those bags are almost always re-sealable, ya know! I have many favorite generic cereals, plain old Frosted Mini-Bites is not bad at all, Tootie Fruties are better than Froot Loops if you ask me...But the best one, my favorite of all the generic cereals is hands-down Marshmallow Maties. Essentially, they are simply Lucky Charms without the Leprechaun. They have a Kangaroo wearing sunglasses as their mascot thus denoting that this fine cereal is supposedly Australian. I, however, ignore this Kangaroo and have long ago decided that Marshmallow Maties was produced and sold exclusively by a Pirate. THE Pirate, in fact. This Pirate has no name, he's not Redbeard or Captain Cock, no, no, no...He is THE Pirate and his bounty in life is this fantastic cereal available only in a plastic bag for (sometimes) almost half the cost of those wimpy, lame and catfood like Lucky Charms.

Whenever I would approach the bagged cereal part of the cereal aisle I always said under my breath (or to myself if others were nearby, the secret of my insanity must be kept!)

"ARRRRRRRR! Whar be my Marshmallow Maties, Arr!?"

I would find them and if they were on sale I might add a pleasant, "Blow me down! They be on Sale, Arrrr!" If they were priced a little higher than I thought fair, I would still buy them, but I might give a fair, "Shiver me timbers! Be this cereal made from gold, arrrrr?!" There has never been a day when my 'Maties' weren't there. That is, until about a month ago...

I have been living with a tighter than normal budget lately as I am saving up to get myself a leg up on my crushing debt. One day soon I will find my escape route, I have the map just need the cash. So, I jaunted into my local grocer as I often do with the intention of getting the absolute bare minimum goods that I will need to get through a lean weekend. I had about $25 and a tight list of items to acquire including my beloved Marshmallow Maties (Arrrrr!) I arrived at the end of the cereal aisle and perused the various metal bins. There was the Frosted Mini Bites, The Golden Puffs, The Honey Buzzers and all the rest but there was one noticeable absence...

"ARRRRR! WHARrrr BE MY MARSHMALLOW MATIES, ARRRRR?!?!"

They were gone. The sign was gone, the box they inhabited had bags of Golden Puffs in it's place.

I thought, "Well blow me down...arrr...?"

In a bin to the far left of where my 'Maties' were (arrr!) was a new bagged cereal...Happy Shapes.

"Happy Shapes?! What the FUCK are Happy Shapes?!" Even their bag was lame. It had a lion (I think) dressed up as a clown and juggling these supposed happy shapes above a big, shit-eating, you-ain't-gettin'-no-more-fuckin'-Marshmallow-Maties-Bitch Grin. Behind this "lion clown" was a single elephant and a single giraffe, there to mock me I suppose. The only thing going for this sad product was that it was actually even cheaper than the coveted 'Maties.' Knowing that I was jonesing for some marshmallow, over-sugared goodness I though it was time to branch out. So I bought the fucking Happy Shapes. All the while, I kept thinking about the letter I was going to write the Pirate, "Arrrrr, Dearrrrrrr Sirrrrrrrrr, I be writin' ye to find out wharrrr ye hid me Marshmallow Maties!?" Now is a good time for you, the reader, to stop reading a moment and look away from your computer monitor and say, "Arrr, Whar be my Marshmallow Maties!?" in your best pirate voice...You won't be disappointed.

See? Wasn't that fun? If anyone else happened to be around you at the time that may have made it even more better. Don't explain it to them, let them figure it out! That's why they have their own brain.

Back to the Happy Shapes...

Those fucking things are not really all that happy. In fact, after eating a bowl, the experience quite resembles an Easter basket filled with all the shittiest, cheapest, peep-like, stale-jellybean candies rotting in your mouth. Awful, crappy and bland and the I guess the only real happy shape is sort of a semi-rounded square. The one good thing is that the marshmallow to cereal ratio is like 2 to 1 so, at the very least, you get a lot of marshmallows in every bite. Trouble is that they all taste like sugary chalk. Ya know what else? Marshmallow Maties is made by a company that you know, Malt-O-Meal and you can tell because it says so right on the bag! Guess who made Happy Shapes? NO ONE! There is no company behind it, there is small print on the very back and bottom of the bag called AmeriValue but I cannot find it on the web. So, Happy Shapes came from nowhere! In fact, due to the way I live in my own "adult-a-verse" I wonder if perhaps only I can see and buy these Happy Shapes. Some people are psychic and see dead people, some people are double jointed and can bend in all kinds of funny ways, some people are talented and well connected and live happy lives...

Me?

I see Happy Shapes.

Japanese Wisdom

There is really nothing you must be.
And there is nothing you must do.
There is really nothing you must have.
There is nothing you must know.
There is really nothing you must become.
However. It helps to understand that fire burns,
and when it rains, the earth gets wet...

"Whatever, there are consequences. Nobody is exempt, " said the master.

Man on the street

I walked onto the street for a smoke the other day, wearing my leather. At the corner, about fifty yards away approaches a large man. Tall, with a significant belly accented by a tight fitting T-shirt that ends just under his navel. It's a chilly, sunny day and this guy has on a tight 'T' that is three sizes too small, a pair of gym shorts, socks and sandals and a long, tan trenchcoat open and flapping behind him as if it were his favorite bathrobe. He's smoking and as he walks his arms wave not unlike a lady at a party. He's headed my way so I step near the curb so as to permit a wide berth so he can hopefully pass without incident.

I mentioned that I was wearing my leather...Now, my leather is not anything extra special, it does the job for me and I do love to wear it but it's just a cheap, mall bought coat. I've had the thing for years and it shows thus it has character I suppose. I wasn't the only one aware of this. Mr. Belly Shirt and Gym Shorts was compelled to stop.

"Excuse me ssSir?"

He said in a lisp that reminded me of several other heavy set, effeminate men I have known over the years. I turn around shaking my head as I instantly assumed he wanted a cigarette.

"Can I take a picture of your jacket?"

I this stunned me a moment, then I repeated the question as if I were trying to translate the question.

"You want to take a picture. Of my jacket." I said dumbly.

"Yesss, because I like the style of it, it's styling!" He waved his hand in front of his own lapel to apparently indicate what 'styling' is.

I pondered a moment, 'What possibly could be the harm in letting a strange person wearing a 3-sizes-too-small-T-shirt-and-gym-shorts on a cold day in March take a picture of me on the street?' I decided that there is no immeadiate threat and said, "Uh, ok?" He produced a small, digital camera from thin air and snapped a quick picture of me looking more than a little confused. He said, "Thanksss!" and sauntered on down the street.

Somewhere that fat man with small clothes is enjoying my 'styling.'