How it goes.

Still,
I think of you, baby
And how I grew old with you then.
And this summer, you'll call- maybe
And act as if we were old friends.
You'd say, 'How are you, baby?',
I'd say, 'It's raining in Athens.'

It's raining in Athens...

And to this day
I nurse the fever
That spoiled my poor heart.
And I've mastered the art of dealing,
Slipping away without falling apart.
So when this summer, you call- maybe
And ask how I've been,
I can be honest and answer plainly,
'Since November, it's been raining.'

It's raining in Athens...


-Azure Ray 

One more for St. Patty's Day...

Wrote this one today around 2:30, shortly after arriving at work. It's dedicated to all I worked with tonight, and anyone else who was imprisoned by their job until 10pm or so tonight while their friends went out and reveled.

Right now I should be drinking green beer,
Irish coffees, and spreading good cheer.
But instead, as we speak,
My Irish heart weeps,
'Cause all night The Man has me stuck here.

More of what I do at work...

Tonight my manager asked if I'd written any more limericks lately. I said I hadn't really felt drawn to any subjects lately, so he commissioned one with the subject of St. Patrick's Day. I wrote two. Here they are, in their painfully cheesy glory:

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
He was cool 'cause he scared snakes away
He's a great Gaelic hunk
And an excuse to get drunk
So Erin Go Bragh we all say!

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
Which we use as a reason to play
It's more fun than the Ides
When Caesar was surprised
I like beer, not stabs; et tu, Brute? 



And this is why I (don't) make the big bucks...

XXII

"Good morning," said the little prince.
     "Good morning," said the railway switchman.
     "What is it that you do here?" asked the little prince.
     "I sort the travelers into bundles of a thousand," the switchman said. "I dispatch the trains that carry them, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left."
      And a brightly lit express train, roaring like thunder, shook the switchman's cabin.
     "What a hurry they're in," said the little prince. "What are they looking for?"
     "Not even the engineer on the locomotive knows," the switchman said.
     And another brightly lit express train thundered by in the opposite direction.
     "Are they coming back already?" asked the little prince.
     "It's not the same ones," the switchman said. "It's an exchange."
     "They weren't satisfied, where they were?" asked the little prince.
     "No one is ever satisfied where he is," the switchman said. 
     And a third brightly lit express train thundered past.
     "Are they chasing the first travelers?" asked the little prince.
     "They aren't chasing anything," the switchman said. "They're sleeping in there, or else they're yawning. Only the children are pressing their noses against the windowpanes."
     "Only the children know what they're looking for," said the little prince. "They spend their time on a rag doll and it becomes very important, and if it's taken away from them, they cry..."
     "They're lucky," the switchman said. 

It's Tricky To Rock A Rhyme

I got a comment on my last blog to post some limericks I've written while at work. Well, they aren't good. I never said they were. They're cheesy. But they fit the formula, so fine. I'll post ones I can (some are about particular people, so they are either not fit for public consumption or they make reference to things only they know about so they'd make no sense). But don't say I didn't warn you about their quality...

There once were some bulbs named 'Soft White'
Who dreamed of becoming a kite.
He attempted to soar,
But instead hit the floor;
It's agreed he was not very bright.


My car has a new trick. This little development showed up last week, and I can't think of anything except that my car is maybe trying to kill me. The Camry's new trick is that whenever the needle on the speedometer (which is inaccurate, I might add) hits 65 MPH, my hood pops open. Yup. No bumps required. Just going 65 is all it takes and THUNK! Pop goes the weasel! Luckily there is a second catch in there that has to be manually unlatched. Of course, my luck is that someday that will fail too. Maybe when I decide to pass someone and speed up to 70 MPH. Then my hood will shear off, take out 6 other cars full of families and a tour bus full of old people... I'll run off the road, maybe flip a few times. Hit a school building or something. Burst into flames and explode like in the movies, and forever be labeled as a domestic terrorist.

For tonight at Returns I am stuck, 
Which at first made me think 'What the fuck?'.
But time I can pass
By scratching my ass.
I can stand here and still make a buck.



Want a poorly written cheeseball limerick? Give me a topic. I'll do what I can.

A Wee Post

I have a Midget Shower.

Which is strange for me to be concerned with, since I myself am only two measly inches and a diagnosed dwarfism gene away from being able to be a card-carrying member of Little People of America, and am quite eligible to join the National Organization of Short Statured Adults.

But yeah. My shower is short, and it annoys me. I didn't notice it when I looked at the place. But when I went to take that first shower I got in the tub and BAM. The shower head was right in front of me. At eye level. Nothing is ever at eye level for me, and never have I been in any shower that is that low. I can't imagine how the guy that lived here before me dealt with that for over a year. I once lived in an apartment where the shower head was so high I couldn't reach it to redirect the spray. I lowered it. Brought it closer to my level. But this... this is just bizarre. To have to MAKE SOMETHING TALLER so I don't bump into it. So's I got a nifty showerarm extender thing- has a lovely 'S' shape and makes the shower head 6" higher. But now I can't get the old arm off. Stuck tight. Gah. I was so looking forward to being able to stand under a nice hot shower rather than getting blasted right in the face. Probably for the best right now, since I still only get a nice hot shower for about 4 minutes.

My new entertainment is writing really stupid limericks at work. About things at work and people at work. It started with a package of broken lightbulbs. And it has escalated rapidly. Now I feel the urge to write a limerick about everything there. Jeebus. I really might be going insane. What do you think?

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Location: Customer Service Desk, Blue/Red motif Big Box Home Improvement Store.
Scene: Sunday, February 14, 2010. 8:07 AM. "Valentine's Day"- a holiday celebrated by some, but not all. First incoming phone call of the day.
*Phone Rings*
Me: "How may I direct your call?"
Man on Line: "I don't know, but you better tell me where I can get some salt or I'm going to Home Depot."
Me: "Um... I'm sorry. What is it you're looking for?"
Man on Line; "I said, 'I don't know, but if you don't tell me where I can find salt I'm going to Home Depot!' Salt! Or I'm going to Home Depot!".
Me: ... ... (squelching the 'oh, no you didn't' response about to burst forth)... ... One moment.
Transfer call to department that carries road salt, knowing full well that the store is completely sold out.

Really? Wanna try that exchange again, fuckwad? Where do you get off? And what makes you think anyone at my place of employment wants to deal with some jerkoff who thinks that by harrassing the phone operator he'll get his way? Oh, I'm sorry, sir... I can tell you are in serious need of some salt- of course it's not your fault that you waited until today to go looking for it. Why don't I produce some Ice Melt out of my ass for you? Douche. Go on across the street. Go for it, bud. I'm sure they'll welcome you. 





Today was Valentine's Day. Bah fucking Humbug. While I think it's a stupid, cheesy, mushball of a day... I did realize today that I've never gotten anything for Valentine's Day (well, not since middle school. Which does not count). Most years, I've not been anyone's, or had a, valentine. But even last year when I (officially) did, I didn't get so much as a text message. I got him a card- a big joke of a card too, which I am proud of because it was funny as shit and I knew it would be right up his alley- and a little thing of candy and snuck into his apartment and left it for him on his computer keyboard. I at least showed I was thinking of him. I got zilch. Le sigh. Yeah, it's stupid. And I wouldn't ever want anything super-cheeseball. No giant balloons or ridiculous numbers of flowers (puke). No retarded dinner out on a night when EVERYONE does that. Nothing over the top. But for once, being acknowledged as someone's valentine would be nice. A hug. You know, just a little sweetness.

And chocolate is always good too...