Red Cups In My Office

I’M 2 SHORT OF A FULL SET OF 6

Perhaps, You’ve Noticed The Four Of Them Behind My Desk … 

Sitting Pretty.  Stacked.  Innocuous Litter Buggers Left Over From The Last Inter-Department Potluck Peace Treaty.

“There’s A Bunch More Wrapped In A Clear Plastic Sleeve In The Staff Kitchenette.  Upper Cabinet, Second Shelf, To The Left.  Next To The Crushed Box Of Instant Oats, Expired Sweeteners, And Brown Swizzle Sticks That Aren’t Going Anywhere Near My Tongue Or Lips.”

Also, Those Ugly Coffee Mugs That No One Uses Because No One Knows Where They Came From:  Can We Just Toss Them Already?  I Have A Theory Of Their Dubious Provenance, Which Is Unkind And Probably True.  Remember Doug In Accounting?

 

ALSO, I’M TRADING IN

The Keurig For A Keg … 

Dumping Caffeine For Chugging Beer.  Just Like We Use To Do.  When We Cared.  What?

No, Etch Argh Doesn’t Have To Know About This.  Or, The Ping Pong Balls I’ve Expensed.

… Don’t Worry, I Have A Plan.

 

LET’S CALL IT “TEAM BUILDING”

If Anyone Asks … We’re Starting A Libation Committee … 

To Improve Employee Morale.  By Getting Elevated.  On The Job.  Like in Mad Men.

Because Last Summer’s “Yoga-At-Lunch / Meditation-On-The-Lawn” Midday Shindig Did Jack Squat But Return Tired, Sweaty Buddha-fied (Gluten Deflecting) Bodies Into The Building.

… Then We Had The Hygiene Issue With Some Of The More Enthused Participants – Little Too Much Glow Fo Sho – Which I Had To Address After Hearing All About It From The Horde Of Haters, And How Pleasant Was That For Me?  Well, It Wasn’t.

 

WORK FAM JAM FEELS LIKE SPAM

The Squad’s Been Down In The Dumps … Over Worked … Under Loved.  

“Sad Faces In Work Spaces Don’t Make For Happy Places.”

Good Folks Beaten Up.  Eats Me.  I Don’t Like It.

… When Quality People Have Exodus On Their Minds.

 

Image By Burst @ Pexels

Life “Plan B” Redux

SOFA, TRAILER PARK OR KIBBUTZ?

I’m Undecided – Letting Fate Drop Me On The Bull’s Eye Of Life – As One Of The Above May Be Housing My Skinny Ass Soon Enough … While I Contemplate A Move From Sucking Lemons To Distilling Small Batch Limoncello, Bello.

Also, I’m Now Accepting Offers As A Handsomely Compensated, Live-In Consigliere-Domestic.  Serious Inquiries Only, Please.  I’m Willing To Relocate To Warmer Climes And Have Nearly Credible Personal References (Including Results From 4 of 7 Polygraphs).

Starting Date Is Negotiable, Once I Figure How To Get Out Of The Real Estate Mess I’m In.

“Pending Lottery Win (Not Happening … I Don’t Play), Divine Intervention (We’re Talking, Again … Trying To Work Things Out Before Purgatory), Or A Family Intervention (Wait, What? … I Thought This Meeting Was About Uncle Ernie’s Halitosis!).”

 

LIFE: WHEN SIMPLY MEETS COMPLICATED VERSION

Yeah, It’s What Happens When Nothing Does …

Once A Mutually “Agree-To-Disagree” Sitch Morphs Into Irreconcilable Differences Of Apocalytpic Yuckiness – Sidebar: Let’s Get This Thing Legally Dissolved Tout de Suite – Then Goes Full-Blown “Whoa, Cowboy!”

Kuched Translation:

“Yo, Dude, All Y’alleses Are Screwed, Pooched And Whatnot.”

 

SO, WHAT WAS “PLAN A” AGAIN?

Oh, That Was A “Pre-Reality Check” Way Back In 2016 … Before “All Of It” Flushed Out To Shitsville And The Goodish Life Melted In A Crucible Of Regrets … 

“Y’Know The Every Man Giggity Gig: Sell The Matrimonial Estate – Cha-Ching Out Of Dodge –  Set-Up The Digs: A Mid-Life-Sans-Wife-Its-A-Daisy-Fresh-Bright-And-Shiny-Life … ‘Netflix & Chill’ … ‘What She Said’ Bombs … Bachelor ‘Rad-Dad-Pad’ In Midtown?”

The Lair.  Grotto.  The Jungle Room.  More Ew – Than Ah – But, Still Some Ah To It.

See: Elvis (Graceland).  Hef (The Playboy Mansion).  And, The Hoff (Malibu Beach).  For Inspiration.  Go Light On Creepy.  Skip The Shag.  No Faux Animal Prints.  Or, Pho Take-Out.

 

‘MEMBER THAT OL’ COUNTRY SONG?

“She Got The Gold Mine, I Got The Shaft?”  

Yeah, Annoying As Dancing Mice On Ice.  Right Up There With … “Take This Job And Shove It.”  And, Who Wants To Remember: “If I Said You Had A Nice Body (Would You Hold It Against Me?).”

Unnecessary Digression Of Goofy Songs Aside, By Process Of Being Manwiched Out:

“I’ve Been Living My Epiphany (All 3 Versions) In Shaftsville (I’ve Relocated From Shitsville).  I’m Not Complaining.  I’m Whining.  There’s A Knowable And Allowable Difference.  Let’s Call It A Charming Vent Short Of Charm.”

 

THE PRETTY FACTS

Good News: The Market Value Of My House – And Most Homes In The Greater Toronto Area (Canada) – Swelled By Over 400% In 15 Years.

The Opposite Of Good News (1): Average Is Seriously Just Average … In Appearance And Value Considering Super-Inflated Prices.  You Definitely Don’t Get What You Pay For Anymore.

The Opposite Of Good News (2) It’s Now A Cool One-Million Dollars (Down From 1.3M In 2019) – To Buy An Average Joint.  Six Zeros.  No Decimal.  To Start. 

Yes, I Know News:  Toronto Isn’t Hong Kong, London, Paris, New York Or Tokyo.

 

MORE PRETTY FACTS

Old News:  I Don’t Live In My House Anymore.

Too Bad, So Sad, It-Ain’t-Really-Shitty-To-Be-Me News:  I Still Own 50% Of Something I Don’t Live In And Never Will Live In Again.  Fine.  Still Halfsies, Right?

“Awesome News:  I’m Alive – Up To Here With Self Love – And, Know How To Laugh At Myself When Others Are Not.  So, I’ve Got That Going For Me.  Grazie.”  

Plus, My First Installment Of Learn To Dance Free-Style, Street Shuffle, Calabrian Tarantella And Portuguese Prison Hustle With MickStreaming Series Is Nearly YouTube Worthy.  I’ll Be Announcing It’s Global Premiere And Truncated Title Shortly.  After I Pitch Netflix About A Documentary On The Making Of: Learn To Dance Free-Style, Street Shuffle, Calabrian Tarantella And Portuguese Prison Hustle With Mick”

 

GO SMALL OR NO HOME

Save The Jokes For Amateur Night, Folks … 

I’m Talking Tiny – Go On, I’ll Wait … Laugh It Out – Which Is Smaller Than Small.

“I’m Good With Little Things.  My Dog (By Choice) Is A Shih Tzu.  I Still Day Dream About Playing With Hot Wheels (Miniature Scale Toy Cars).  And, Night Dream About Mediocrity Elevated With Delusions Of Adequacy.”

… A Bloody Small House, Damn It.  Like HGTV Pimps Out.  On A Rural Lot Next To A Stream With A View Of A Rainbow And Toto.

 

KIBBUTZNIK, S’IL VOUS PLAÎT

Not Sure I Even Qualify … Being A Lapsed Hypo-Christian (Catholic Conscientious Objector, Non-Reformed, Exorcism-Pending Vatican Approval) … 

Perhaps, My High School Sociology Teacher – Mr. Stuballs – Should’ve Mentioned That When I Was Contemplating Taking A Gap Year Before College And Becoming A Secular Member Of A Farming Collective In Israel.

“Utopian Societies Once Held Novice Appeal To Me.  Sharing Resources.  Working Together.  Living Modestly Off The Land.  Also, I Used To Like Nice Shit I Couldn’t Afford, But That’s All Gone Into The Crapper.  Now, I Just Hate Not Being Able To Afford Nice Shit I No Longer Like.”

Then Again, I Just May Be A Displaced Amish Fellow Gone Rogue Looking For A Barn To Raise.  Goodness Happens After The Epiphanies.

 

BACK TO MY OPENING PITCH: FUN GUY FOR HIRE

On Why “I’d Make The Ideal Candidate” For Resident Couch Potato / Sofa Surfer – Guest Room Fixture – Cabana Man / Pool House Play Mate …

“I’m Laboratory-Grade Finicky Clean, Enterprising And Resourceful With An Infectious Personality Bordering On Charming (Lovably Delusional).  I Make Sad People Happy (Big Pharma Hates Me) And, Happy People Reconsider Why They’re Better Off Sad (Big Pharma Loves Me).  I Go To Bed Early (Usually By 4 AM).  I Party Alone Only On Weekdays, Starting Around Noon Until Passing Out On A Lounge Chair Poolside.  Cops Know Me.  Neighbors, Sure?  Basically, A Good Guy To Have Around.  Imagine, A Hybrid Of A Jason Statham-type (With Nice Hair) Mixed With A Younger Alec Baldwin (Any Baldwin, Really) And Doug-In-Accounting Hip Vibe?  Plus, I’m Modest (Right?) And Kinda A Big Deal In Certain Places You’ve Probably Never Heard Of But Have Always Wanted To Visit.”

You Should Also Know: Pets Can’t Keep Their Furry Paws Off Me.  Children Adore Me … Please, I’m Practically A Certified Manny.  I Hum Operas (Just Wait You Hear My Killer Version of La Bohème).  Michelin Starred Chefs Have Been Known To Get-The-Hell-Out-Of-The-Kitchen When I Start Prepping Coq Au Vin.

… As A Bonus: I’ll Write Your Blog Posts.  I Guarantee To Increase Your Followers By A Minimum Of One Per Day For A Month Straight.  Trust Me, You’ll Be Nominated For A Sunshine Blogger Award In No Time.

Photo by Vincent Rivaud from Pexels

Preamble To The Way Back Home (Part 1)

MY BLESSED DAY AT THE DAILY BREAD FOOD BANK

I arrived twenty-two minutes early, parked Blue, and sat listening to my daily Spotify-curated eclectic mix – Classic Rock Anthems courtesy of Seger, Springsteen and the Rolling Stones … drizzled with bubble-gummy ABBA, Boney M and yeah, the Brothers Gibb stuttering Ja-Ja-Ja-Jive Talkin’.  The Gap Band got the funk all the way down with Party Train ending the set.  I needed something to lift the malaise draping over me.  Music, for once, didn’t get it done. Continue reading “Preamble To The Way Back Home (Part 1)”

That’s What She Almost Said …

This post originally appeared December 4, 2019 on Kuched.  Though it received many positive comments and views, I deleted it.  Thought it may have been a little Self Inflamed.  Ego Rendered.  Get Over Myselfish.  But, its Just Me … Talking.  I own these words.  Cryptic to Gospel.  Added a bunch more on the version below.  If you think I’m writing this Friction Fiction about you?  Nah.  It’s All About Me even when it isn’t …    

Continue reading “That’s What She Almost Said …”

Bah-Nahn-Ers!

WHENEVER I THINK ABOUT IT

I Can’t Write Worth Widgets … 

Which Is What I’m Doing Now.  Small Stall Tactics.  Yellow, Mellow, Fellow.

“Consider This Beautiful Bit Of Nothing A Warmer Upperer To Wash Out My Cryptic Preoccupation Of Bananas.”

… Still, Though.

 

Photo by Couleur from Pexels

Take It Easy (Kuched Over)

EAGLES

Well I’m a-runnin’ down the road try’n to loosen my load

I’ve got seven women on my mind

Four that want to own me, two that want to stone me

One says she’s a friend of mine.

 

KUCHED

Well I’m a-runnin’ down the street try’n to loosen my heat

I’ve got eleven women on my mind

Six that want to atone me, four that want to clone me

Only one says she’s a friend of mine.

 

“Take It Easy” Songwriters: Jackson Browne, Glenn Frey

© Red Brick Music Publishing

 

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Dubya Pea Ghosting?

IT’S PROBABLY JUST ME

And, All Y’all – Feeling The Same Unloved Feeling – Like Déjà Voodoo. 

“What’s Going On With Our Lovely Host?”

Hearing Fables Of Lost Followers: On Again, Pissed Off Again.  Posts Gone Poof, Incognito.  Disappearing Into Sweet Nothings, Darling.

… Who’s Been Hacking My Porridge?

 

Photo by Gilberto Reyes from Pexels