A Vicious Cycle of Shit

I hate my job.

Well no, I don’t. I actually don’t mind my job. For what it’s worth it’s actually a pretty nice and cushy place to work. I have excellent benefits, I have the ability to work from the comfort of my home, they pay for me to attend college and it’s not too far from where I live.

That being said, I don’t make enough money to live reasonably. Note I did not say comfortably, I said reasonably. Here’s what I mean. As a fully functioning adult, I don’t get paid enough to afford a place on my own. Like how fucking pathetic is that. Between paying rent, which I split between a number of people, groceries, various utility bills, and the need for some form of entertainment from time to time, I barely have enough money to make it to my next pay check yet alone put aside anything in to my savings account for a rainy day. I have a POS car that I would love to get rid of and procure a new one but in order for me to do that I would have to sacrifice rents or some of my other bills. I would like to purchase a house and some point but that would require having very little debt, forgoing trying to purchase a new or lightly used car and being able to put aside a considerable amount in to my savings/checking account. As some of you may know or have read my father passed away recently, which incurred some very sudden expense that resulted in the depletion of most of my savings and high balances of my credit cards at which currently I’ve been putting every little bit of money I have in to bringing those balances under control. All of these issues I think could be alleviated if I were being paid more money.

Without going in to too much detail, my current company doesn’t follow a sensible pay scale which results in unqualified and those in some higher positions to be paid salaries that are an ocean’s gap away from us regular employees. As a result most of us get paid just enough to be broke, while the other half get paid way more than they are worth or deserve. On second though, I’ll stick with my original statement….

I hate my job.

@thekrayze1

 

 

D.S.I.D.A.A.K: The Fire

4174776173_e8c26989cc_zI’ve done quite a few things in my life that I’m not proud of. I’ve done even MORE things in my life that makes me wonder how the hell I ever made it past the age of 15?

Case in point.

I love fire. Anyone that knows me, knows that I love watching things burn. “Some men just want to watch the world burn” – Alfred Pennyworth. I’m one of those men. Maybe “the world” is a drastic exaggeration, but I am a pyromaniac, but a good one if there is such a thing. I guess you can call me a pleasant pyromaniac. I’m not the “raving, set everything and everyone on fire and watch them burn and scream in agony” type of pyromaniac, just the “wow that is a pretty lovely blaze and it feels so warm and comforting” type of pyromaniac. There’s more of an artistic appreciation in my love of the hot stuff. The elegant dancing of flames as they consume and devour everything in their path while giving off such radiant warmth has always been a pleasurable experience (I mean…as long as no one was in danger or anything am I right? That guy knows what I’m talking about). Some years ago, I watched as my neighbor’s house across the way burn to the ground (with them not in it of course) and remembered thinking, “THIS. IS. AWESOME! HEY!….No judging.

Anyway, I digress. I wanted to tell you guys a story. None sure when it started, but my first experience with setting things ablaze started when I was around 8 years old. Hurricane Hugo had recently blown through my island and left it completely devastated. People lost their homes and everyone was without power. By some good fortune however, and possibly excellent structural engineering, my house was one of the few left unaffected by the storm. A few months after the hurricane, after things had settled a bit and school was back in session, a friend of mine came over and we were doing homework in my bedroom. To this day I don’t know where she got the cigarette light from, but out of no where she had one in her hand and with a broad smile on her face said, “Look at what I have?!”

It all went downhill from there. Quickly grabbing the lighter from her, my first instinct was to burn something, but seeing as the smell of smoke would be the fast track to an ass-whoopin, I was force to find an alternate way to place the lighter to good use. Fancying my self a brave explorer, I decided to adventure under my bed to see what I could find using the lighter as my torch. So with “torch” in hand myself and my brave companion braved the underneath of my bed cave in search of whatever treasures it might hold. However, that got boring quickly, well at least to her anyway. After a few minutes she gave up and went back to homework, prompting me to do the same, and in hindsight I should have listened, but I was still having fun. Braving one last trek under the bed I decided to get back to homework.

Not sure if you guys are familiar with what bed were made of back in 1989, but they were primarily composed of a box spring on the bottom and a mattress to rest on top of it. Back on the day these “box springs” had a papery cloth-like material lining the bottom to hide the wood frame that the box was made of. What I know now, but didn’t have a clue about back then, was that is HIGHLY flammable.

At this point in time I’d returned to my homework completely oblivious to the small fire I’d started under my bed. My friend Jennie however, wasn’t.

“The bed is on fire.”

She’d said it so softly at first I thought she was kidding, but the second time she said it there was a sense that something was terribly wrong. While I couldn’t see the fire yet, there was a small plume of smoke coming from underneath the bed. On further examination, what clearly happened while I was pretending to be Indiana Jones, was that I inadvertently set the material under the box-spring on fire and it was spreading rapidly.

Now, if you remember correctly, I’M 8! And the first thing an 8-year-old does is panic, while simultaneously trying to figure out a way to put the fire out WITHOUT involving an adult and any guaranteed repercussions that would come with that decision. So in my panic and small little idiot 8 year old brain, I put together a plan of action.

Need water to put out the fire. <— Good Idea!
Will cup the water in my hand and carry it from the bathroom to my room and throw it up under the bed. <—You stupid fucking idiot!

So after 3 or 4 trips back and forth with no progress to show for it, my friend decided to get a grown up involved, which was clearly the first things that should have been done.

Needless to say, severe ass-whoopin’s were promptly handed out once the fire was put out and I was out of a bed. Her for having the lighter, and me for almost burning the house down.

Man, I did some dumb shit as a kid.

@thekrayze1

 

First Will and Testament

I, James Loren Payne, being of sound mind and body, bequeath these precious possessions to the following individuals.

To my daughter Rowan, I leave to you all of my love. Ever since the day you were born, you have been my greatest inspiration. Everything I do is to provide you with the things that I never had, and to ensure that you are never without the things that you need. I also leave to you the wisdom gained from mistakes that I have made in the past. Always listen to your mother. She is very knowledgeable and experienced, and only has your best interest at heart.

To my family I leave my sincerest apologies and thanks. I apologize for the many years of hardship and disappointments that have plagued you due to my existence. I know that I did not turn out the way that you expected me to, and for that I am sorry. In my stubbornness I have cost you countless expenses that I can never repay. I also want to thank you for putting up with me for all these years and for being there for me. For that I am very grateful.

To my friends I leave you a wealth of advice. Learn from the people who love you and have walked the path before you. They are not here to make your life miserable, but to save you from mistakes that they have made. Pay attention, stay in school, and always stay focused.

Finally to the world, I leave to you this final thought. Life is short and precious so make the most of it. Take the time to tell your family and friends how much you love and appreciate them. You cannot get back the time you have wasted so make the most of what you have.

@thekrayze1

See, the Problem is…

emotional-designI’m not a very emotional person. Or rather, I’d like to believe that I’m not a very emotional person. I keep a very stoic attitude towards everything and try my best not to let my actions reflect how I may actually be feeling at the moment.

Actually, that’s not true. I’m a very emotional person. Too emotional sometimes I think. My problem comes with the fact that I internalize a great deal of things, anger, happiness, fear, sadness, disappointment, sympathy, mostly because I don’t know how to express my emotions very well. I never know how to react to things or if the way that I am reacting is correct. I prefer to keep up the facade that I’m emotionless and that people’s thoughts and actions don’t affect me and that I can’t be hurt by the things people say or do but it never works. No matter how much I’d like to pretend like I don’t care it always seems like my feelings are so easily trampled. Every other day it seems like I’m nursing some emotional wound that somehow slipped through a chink in my emotional armor.

Internalization (is that even a word?) doesn’t seem to be working for me to well these days. It accounts for much of my stress and personal conflicts. I care about people’s feelings way to much to tell them how I feel or what I may be thinking. I’m so afraid to hurt people so I’d rather deal with the turmoil within myself than to risk causing pain to someone else.

I sometimes wish that I could turn my feeling and my ability to care for people off but no matter how hard I try it seems like I don’t know how to not care too much. I develop bonds with individuals and then the inevitable event of some sort occurs that has me desperately trying to salvage whats been left of my tattered feelings. I wish I knew how not to care. I wish I knew a sure-fire way to avoid being taken advantage of. I wish I knew how to walk away without looking back. I wish I knew how to not give people the benefit of the doubt. I wish I knew how to not see the potential good in people.I wish I knew how to not expect people to meet me half way. I wish I knew how to not be considerate of people’s feelings. I wish it wasn’t so easy for me to bond with people.

I wish…..

@TheKrayze1

I Will NOT Go Down With This Ship

white flagI’m not a quitter. I never have been. It’s just not in my DNA. No matter how challenging or difficult something may be, no matter how much I’m getting my ass kicked, I’ll just keep coming back for more until I win, or figure it out (except for math, math can suck a dick). If there’s a level of a game that I can’t seem to figure out or a combo that I can’t get the right timing or input for, I’ll keep at it for hours until I’ve figured it out (Seriously, ask anyone that has played a video game against me or have sat and watched me play a level over and over and over again for hours). I just don’t know how to quit. I don’t know how to give up and accept defeat.

However, I’ve recently come to the realization that my fervor and tenacity doesn’t work for all situations, especially when it comes to relationships and the people who you love or care about.

I was sitting at my desk at work yesterday, tirelessly fielding calls from these whiny, bitchy, annoying ass, entitled feeling, can’t do anything for themselves, don’t know their ass from their elbow students (I think they get the picture Loren). Anyway, as I’ve stated in previous posts, in order to tune out the rest of the world I tend to have my iTunes playing in one ear while my telephone headset is on the other (Shhhh, I’m not supposed to do that).

I was addressing an issue with a student that had a SERIOUS stammer (another post to come about that shortly), when Dido’s “White Flag” started playing. If you’re not familiar with the song then you should go look it up on YouTube. What? I should just embed the video in to my post? What do I look like? Your fingers aren’t broken. How about I just post the lyrics? Good? Ok, glad we agree on that.

WHITE FLAG

I know you think that I shouldn’t still love you,
Or tell you that.
But if I didn’t say it, well I’d still have felt it
where’s the sense in that?

I promise I’m not trying to make your life harder
Or return to where we were

I will go down with this ship
And I won’t put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I’m in love and always will be

I know I left too much mess and
destruction to come back again
And I caused nothing but trouble
I understand if you can’t talk to me again
And if you live by the rules of “it’s over”
then I’m sure that that makes sense

I will go down with this ship
And I won’t put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I’m in love and always will be

And when we meet
Which I’m sure we will
All that was there
Will be there still
I’ll let it pass
And hold my tongue
And you will think
That I’ve moved on….

I will go down with this ship
And I won’t put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I’m in love and always will be

As I was saying, we all have that one song that can describe any instance in our lives to the letter, well this just happens to be mine. Without going in to detail, this song describes a point in my life when things were very…..complicated. I lived by the motto that anything can be fixed in a relationship and that if there is enough conviction that most relationships can be saved. What I forgot to factor was that it has to be a mutual effort between both parties for it to work. No one person has enough love or devotion for both individuals to save the relationship if one of them isn’t giving 100%. Am I trying to say that you shouldn’t fight for the ones you love? No, of course not. If you feel that your relationship is worth saving, then fight like hell for it, but only if your partner is willing to fight along with you.

I fought. I fought and I fought and I fought. I fought hard. In the end it was all for nothing. I learned the hard way that I could have saved myself a shit ton of pain and sorrow if I’d only l cut my losses and moved on. I learned the hard way that some things just can’t be salvaged by just determination and hope. I had to learn how to quit. I had to learn how to fight against every fiber of my being and walk away. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to learn. Some things just can’t be saved, and in most cases more damage and pain will be caused by continuing to fight.

I’m not a quitter by design, and I still struggled with this concept. No matter how many times I’d been hurt, ignored or shunned by someone I care about, some part of me was still willing to fight for that connection, that bond. Not any more.

I’m not a quitter, but I won’t go down with the ship.

@TheKrayze1

(P.S. I caved. The link to the White Flag video is below. Enjoy.)

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Male Bathroom Etiquette

urinalI’m not even sure where to start with this one. At first when I was entertaining the idea of writing this it was just based off of a few pet peeves that I have while using the bathroom. As I thought about it more I realized that I’d probably be doing the general male public a favor by laying down a few guidelines for male bathroom etiquette.

And ladies before you call me out for nit-picking, let me just say it’s not the same for us guys as it is for women. You guys use the bathroom as a communal gathering of estrogen to discuss matters of the heart, take duck faced pictures for Instagram and other trivial matters(I’m going to catch hell for that I’m sure). For men the bathroom is business only. Go in, do what you do, and get out.

However, I think some men have forgotten that there are rules in place for using the mans bathroom. Well since it has slipped the minds of some of you I’m going to refresh your memory with a few tips of what you should and should not do while in the bathroom.

  1. Do NOT talk to me while I’m using the urinal. Seriously, my penis is in my hand. For a man, this is one of our most vulnerable moments. We’re exposed and in no position do defend ourselves if shit goes down. We need to be on alert in case some shit happens and you trying to have a conversation about how shitty this job is or how hot Barbara from accounting is just takes away from my attention.
  2. Do NOT talk to me while you are using the urinal and have your penis in your hand. I’m going to respect what you’re doing and let you concentrate on aiming so don’t sabotage yourself by trying to strike up a conversation with me.
  3. If we are both using the urinals at the same time, we are NOT pee buddies. Do NOT talk to me. Your penis is in your hand and my penis is in my hand. It’s already awkward enough, so please don’t add to the weirdness.
  4. Speaking of simultaneous urination, if we are using the urinals at the same time please leave a one urinal gap between yourself and the other gentleman. This is non-negotiable. If you walk in to the bathroom and the only urinals that are free are the gap urinals, then FUCKING WAIT! That is not an open invitation to squeeze yourself in between two men. No Exceptions.
  5. Do NOT talk to me if I am using the bathroom stall or vice versa. Rules 1 and 2 still apply in this instance. Just because you’re behind closed doors still doesn’t mean it’s allowed. I mean chances are if I’m in using the stall it’s either A.) all that’s left is the urinal gap and I’m not going to be that guy (see no. 4) or B.) I’m taking a deuce. Which means my pants are around my ankles, another vulnerable position for a man. The gap rule applies for stalls as well but can be ignored since there is a partition separating you and I. HOWEVER, please do not let your feet slide under the partitions. You’ve been warned.

Here are also a few things to remember.
If you and another guy are at the urinals, don’t look over at him, stay facing forward.
If you get a little on the seat, wipe it off. I mean really how hard is it to get a piece of tissue and clean up after yourself.
This isn’t a fucking gym. There’s no need for all that grunting. You’re taking a shit not lifting weights. It can be done silently.
Talking is only allowed at the sinks among other men at the sinks. No cross communication should be had by any man washing his hands with another man at the urinal or in the stalls.
Wash your hands. No, seriously, wash them. If I see you leave the bathroom without washing your hands, it’s your funeral.

I HAVE SPOKEN!

@TheKrayze1

 

Practice Safe Sex, Don’t Use Condoms

DISCLAIMER: If you take anything I say in this post too seriously and for more than what it is then you’re a fucking idiot. The best form of safe sex is abstinence…..Good luck with THAT shit.

Condoms are the devil. Yeah, you heard me. THE DEVIL! When used properly and consistently, condoms are 98 percent effective in preventing pregnancy and the spread of STD’s (True shit! The internet told me!). What you’re not told however is the fact that it is all a LIE! A LIE I TELL YOU! Condoms provide sexually active men and women with a false sense of security. Now we’ve all heard that the safest sex you can have no sex, but if you’ve already had sex then you KNOW that shit ain’t happenin’. So what’s the next best thing? Contraceptives. And the list is endless when it comes to the supposed baby stoppers (No, I’m not going to list them).

I digress. Let me explain why condoms are evil. Aside from the fact that it just doesn’t feel right suffocating your penis with a piece of plastic (poor thing), with condoms you usually don’t know that things have gone wrong until after they’ve gone horribly wrong. For example, and fellas I know we’ve all had this happen to us at least once or twice at least right (No? Just me? FUCK!). So you meet a girl, things are going great and then the opportunity to do what you’ve been trying to do since you met her arises (literally). So you take her back to your place, or you go back to her place….or a hotel (what is she a hooker?), or her parent’s basement (ahh, I see, you’re a fucking loser), and then you start getting down to business. At this point everything is going great. You’re kissing, touching, groping, stroking, sucking (…..ahem), and practically tearing each others clothes off.

You know what happens next right? Time to get to work. However, because you don’t really want to be tied to this person for the rest of your life through a tiny screaming bundle of flesh that will turn into a money sucking gremlin on two feet (WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!….Dial it back a little James……….Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah..), you pull out that little golden square that’s supposed to be your Knight in Slimy Latex and risking losing wood while you speedily try to get this stupid thing on…..you strap up. Time to get to business. You slowly slide it in to her waiting love canal and although it’s not the ideal feeling, it’s not so bad. Actually, this still feels pretty good! So you guys start going at it, a mass of flesh and limbs rumbling around the bed, or floor or where ever until you can feel the ultimate climax building. You’re about to cum and although you don’t want this session to come to an end, there’s nothing you can do to stop it and you explode in to your love glove. You collapse in to each others arms reveling in the bliss post coitus when you reach down to clean up and realize the worst; your little barrier of protection broke and all your biological Bisquick is all up inside this chick….nuclear-bomb-panorama-xpost-from-pics-.gif

FUCK!

Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! (Go back and read what you just read again, expect smack your hands on your forehead and then say the OMG’s really, really fast..yup, just like that) WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! Then the thoughts start running through your head. Was the condom old? No. Did you leave room at the tip? Yes. You know what? You should have known better. There’s no way that little  piece of latex was going to hold up to all that rigorous and passionate love-making. Then in a flash of lightning another series of thoughts run through your head; how do you fix it.
1. Not tell her. I mean do you know how complicated it is to get pregnant anyway? The stars need align themselves just right, Michael Jackson has to come back from the dead and sing Billy Jean in your bedroom and a tiny Indian needs to start doing the rain dance so that Pauly Shore can have an acting career again (Oh, Hey Michael I didn’t see you there. Why do you have a member of the Village People with you? Hey is that Billy Jean? I love that s…NOOOOOOOOOO!!)

2. Kill her and dump the body. You’ve watched enough CSI, so no one will ever find her….(Wait, on the off-chance you get caught, you would definitely go to prison and none of us are willing to risk being made someones bitch and getting fucked in the ass..)

3. Accept it. You’re going to be a father. Maybe this won’t be too bad. She’s pretty and she’s a sweet person. Your baby will be fucking BEAUTIFUL! Maybe she’ll be a good mother. But what if it doesn’t work out? What then? Then she’ll probably take you to court for child support. No, you don’t want that just yet, at least not from these circumstances. Time for plan b………PLAN B!!

4. Plan B. Yup the morning after pill. Problem solved. Now………….back to the sex.

Yup that’s right. Cause you didn’t just have a mini aneurism. So what sounds like a good idea to two supposed rational adults? Have MORE sex. I mean the damage is already done right?

Are you starting to see the problem that condoms cause? Do you know what would have solved this from the get go? The pull-out method. Hang on a second. Hear me out before you go calling me crazy and shit.

Think about it. Every guy knows they moment that they are about to cum. Not using a condom keeps a guy on his toes and alert (unless he was fucking lied to and was told by that lying bitch that she couldn’t get pregnant) and doesn’t create that false sense of security that condoms do. When they are about to cum they can whip it out and either have her finish him off (which no guy would refuse) or skeet all over her (which every guy wants to do). And I know what you’re about to say about the possibilities of her getting preggers by pre-cum but do I have to bring up again how hard it is to get knocked-up?

The only other option is to have her get on birth control. And unless she’s already on it, I don’t see that conversation going in your favor.

Please feel free to comment for or against my argument. I’m looking forward to reading what you guys think or any horror stories of your own that you might like to share.

@TheKrayze1