chou chope

shoenami

thank goodness i'm near death (home sick), so i finally have time to blodge.

what a depressing few weeks i've had. i mean sorry freaking weeks with no relief. i can't tell you how much i despise my life sometimes, i am an island. but i've been wading through the bullshit for a while and i'm ready to move on.

i lost three clients over the past month, and was developing a bit of a medusa complex. i even had a post in draft status urging everyone who reads here to take their meds and eat right. i pulled the harsher lingo out when we lost rob, but didn't know how to revive my blog without being a downer. am i toxic? wouldn't surprise me a bit.

losing clients is rough on me, people, especially since it takes so long to develop trust. more often than not, veritable strangers show up anxious to blow fortunes their benefactors took great care and time cultivating. it's nauseating to watch and since i'm somewhat forced to participate, it feels kind of like pissing on your parent's grave.

the mild market correction has flushed out the normal percentage of fruitcakes. give it a rest people, please. i'm tired, i'm on antibiotics, and i'm really lacking the wherewithal to deal with the theatrics. when the USA isn't leading the world in economic growth, then i'll be ready to hear about how "we're all gonna die." seventeen consecutive interest rate hikes? hmmmm, i wonder what the fed is trying to stifle? they seem pretty serious about their course of action. you're right, everything sucks, though.

and finally, as usual, i suffered great frustration at my company's annual meeting (which i once wrote about here). when i made the obligatory intro on day one i said, "i'm chou, i live in the hill country and this is my dozenth annual meeting." bwahahahaha!! you would have thought i crapped my pants. those maniacal corporate bastards were hanging on every word, waiting for an opportunity to point and laugh at the hayseed from the sticks.

hypersensitive? i think not, some form of this chou abuse occurs every year. after that, people began saying "this is my two dozenth meeting *big chuckles*" and "this is my oneth meeting*har har*". very funny, dumbfucks. i really felt stupid being made fun of at the annual meeting, talk about being kicked when you're already down? imagine my surprise when i got home and looked it up. uh huh, this lil ole hayseed outwitted you speaking perfectly good english. you outed yourselves with your ridicule. fuck you, corporate assholes, you make me want to set my suits ablaze.

thank god i'm not in it for them. i'm in it for me and my family. i'll keep on cause i can, and when at last i finally smoke their ass, i'll let em know that they did get me riled up when i was down. and nothing brings pleasure like beating an arrogant, silver spoon-fed dumbfuck.

sorry for the sour disposition. i'm fighting it. and once i beat the bacteria, i'll be back with stories of sunshine and rainbows. until then, take good care of yourself, you belong to me.

bye bye, blown eye

rob smith is gone? i don't believe it.

we weren't close but we did have a few run-ins. like all, i read rob in the beginning. he actually encouraged me to leave my first comment. back then i would only communicate via email cause it gave me the willies to have my words frozen in cyber space for eternity. not to mention i had a healthy sense of self-preservation, what mutant trolls rob had, they paralized me.

all in all, rob was simply good peeps. rough around the edges, as we all have been found to be. but sweet, that man could be so sweet. you would smile at him all the while waiting for the acidman to show. luckily, i never met him in person.

rob more than anyone appreciated the birth of the blown eyeds. he loved that we incorporated a catfishism into our family crest (and it beat the hell out of calling ourselves chubbies.)

god rest your restless soul, rob. blown eyeds will remember you always.

that's my boy

me, "true, the sign by our house says your name on it!"

true, "did it say 'wanted'?"

take my identity, please

when i was in college, i was friends with a band. their name was, i'm not making this up, "foot". i'm serious, they played at my wedding. anyhow, they had a song and the main chorus was, "you can fuck me running, cause i ain't laying down." happy tune (and no, they did not play that at the wedding-would have been a good precurse though, in retrospect). i had to laugh because this is the song that my brain spit out about shower time this morning and it's been with me all day.

i got one of those letters today. you know, the chain letter of 2006? it goes something like this: dear miss chou lady, don't hate us, but one of our employees had his laptop stolen, or possibly he just forgot where he put it down, we don't really know. and by the way, very very sensitive information about you was accessible on said laptop. oh, and further, although the info was encrypted, it's still accessible so we are offering you a free membership at creditcolonoscopy.com for one whole year only. enjoy the rest of your life! BIG BANK

you know i see this shit every day. ut business school, berkeley, big corporations, the military, today it is the only answer in identity theft. 2.2 million? oops. when i googled "identity lost laptop," i found this interesting story from way back in april 2000. uh huh. lost laptop, familiar story. yeah, don't go there, there's already a blog.

ok, so i'm not very technologically savvy. i don't do ANY work from home and never have used a laptop for work. in fact, i have to be at my desk physically to access client info. so what is with every tom, dick and harry having super intelligence loaded up on their laptops? is that necessary? really? do we need those slinky handcuffs (toddler cuffs) to keep you in touch with your data? i didn't think so. the average laptop is for pushing widgets, no? are you believing all these super clearance fucktards??

please solve this problem, whatever it really is, because it scares me much more what you are likely covering up. afterall, this ain't my first rodeo. "lost laptop" is the cliche of today's business clusterfucks--it's the "check's in the mail" of our time.

i know this is a serious issue, but the thought of someone stealing my identity is really quite laughable. i challenge you to limp out of the state on my sterling credit & reputation. good luck with that, loserhoid, it hasn't been that great for me.

i am going to throw myself headlong into my other identity. that's right, peeps. where are all the shiny armed yummies congregating this summer? why, at the little city's inaugural citizen police acadamy, that's where. taught by the uniformed yummies in the heart of the cop shop, rowr. it took me all of 5 seconds to decide to join up. yep, summer is definitely heating up in the hill country. officer copsucker, reporting for duty. wish me luck.

ciudad de basura

there's no place like home,
there's no place like home,
there's no place like home...

dorothy was right, not even home is the same.

sorry, i've been so distant. it's not you, it's me. the waters are murky, the snakes are scaley and the grey skies are stretched as far as the eyes can see. i wonder, is venus in retrograde again? a person has to wonder.

as you might have read, weeks ago, i know, over at the GOC's, my mom is packing up and moving out of our home to go to ft. worth (elisson says it best though, "foat wuth"). she's lived in our house for over 30 years, so you can imagine how daunting the task. i went to htown last two weekends to help pack her up.

now i'm sure you can imagine selling your home of that many years to be a little tragic. ours especially, since i had the great fortune to grow up in a brady bunch neighborhood. the streets were all anchored by three schools , all primary, and back in the day, everybody walked. in fact, prior to driving days, when we went out at night, we walked around the neighborhood. that's all there was to do, so that's what we did.

anyways. those days are gone. long gone. home just isn't homey anymore. something catastrophic has hit htown, and it's rattled everything. a domino effect, i suppose.

in the last couple of weekends, i've seen a prostitute working the major street that borders my neighborhood. i saw countless filthy half dressed folks standing around scratching themselves alongside busy roads. i went to a fiesta grocery store very late and got whistled at buying a pint of milk, in the milk section. i took on my blind safety stare as i turned on auto pilot, counting minor children flipping the fuck out to the midnight mariachi music. it was just like matamoros, mexico's town square, in the middle of houston.

ya'll, i tried to conceal my disgust but i turned into a newsreporter, asking everyone i ran into what had happened to this great city. it suddenly sucks, what is it? the best answer came from my friend stephen friday night, "chou, it's no secret that houston took an enormous dump the day NOLA moved in."

no shit. is that it? i'm not sure. did ya'll hear about the other day without mexicans? it was memorial day. apparantly when americans don't work, you find hundreds of clueless mexicans wandering around town wondering why nobody picked them up. it was classic. i felt like honking my horn and saying, "happy day without mexicans! this is living!!" but i didn't.

truth be told, i really like mexicans. i know that sounds sarcastic, but it's true. i know many many great mexicans. and mexicans have been a part of houston since i don't know when, long before my time. nope. i think it's the basura we produce within these great states. the political stinkhole to our left, louisiana.

did ya'll know that the new orleans candidates advertised in houston because that's where a lot of their voters were? can you imagine? being invaded by a neighboring state, and then having to watch their inane politics play out in your very own backyard, a constant reminder of your trampled good will. is this gaza? i guess with the hiatus, i forgot to send my congratulations to mayor nagin. congrats ray, no one deserves it more than you. hey, and don't forget you left a lot of your shit in htown. shall we ship it to city hall? the superdome? just let us know.

damn, can someone photo shop the houston city limits sign with the "basura" sign taped on? i think that's all that's left to do. freaking dump heap. good luck houston, clutch city. you'll pull out of it, you always do. unfortunately, the stros and the rockets and especially the oilers wore me out years ago. my nerves are shot. good luck ya'll.

Update: frightening, i share a brain with yabu. you said it better in american dirtbag. well done, buddy.