RTotD: 3/2

It’s that time again, everyone. It’s time for you to take a brief step into my brain. I promise to try and make it as painless as possible, but I guarantee nothing. If you start to experience any side effects, please consult your doctor immediately. We here at Stuphblog take no responsibility for it if you do. After all, it’s not our fault you’re intolerant of the 33 grams of awesome I bring…..or something.

  1. Political bumper stickers are about the most useless things ever. They don’t change anyone’s mind or make people want to vote. The only thing they do is make the car owner look stupid. Even if your side wins, after the election is over you’re stuck with an idiotic sticker on your car for the rest of its life.
  2. When did everyone become so obsessed with getting organized? All anyone is talking about anymore is totes. They’re only like $5 at the store. Just buy some and shut up about them already. And who the hell is Totes McGotes? Is he Rubbermaid’s new mascot or something?
  3. While on the local news website the other day, I saw this headline: Horse shot dead in Mason County. I have three things to say about that: One, I hope the person who did this gets kicked in the head repeatedly by the next horse that they are near. Two, why is this news? And three, why was this number six on their top ten list of most popular stories?
  4. Weren’t Flo’s 15 minutes of fame over with 15 minutes ago? What’s it going to take to get rid of this bitch finally?
  5. I like the way that children’s networks are set up. They play the entire episode, then play all of their commercials in between them. If only all TV networks worked this way.
  6. Before any of you go trying to explain number 2 to me, I know what totes means. I was just being a smartass. If you try to be a smartass and explain it to me anyways, I’ll find out where you live and put a political bumper sticker on your car. If you don’t have a car, I’ll put it on your forehead instead.

There you have it folks. The randomness that’s in my head is now spreading throughout the blogosphere. Unfortunately, there is no known cure yet.

Having Ears Is Sometimes A Bad Thing

Yesterday, at work, I was doing my normal thing. I was boxing up radios and shipping them off to idiotic car dealerships all over this nation. During most of that time, however, I was also contemplating cutting my ears off. For the last four or five hours I was there, they were being cruelly, and unusually, punished.

 

The tech room where they repair the radios is right next to the shipping room. Normally, the techs wear headphones when they test play the music. For some reason, yesterday they didn’t.

I can’t really blame the techs. They don’t choose the CDs that they use. They’re supplied by the company that manufactures the radios. So, I will be blaming those assholes because I had to put up with the most horrible music imaginable for over half a work day.

There were many things wrong with the music. One, it was a Celine Dion song. Two, it was the Titanic song. Three, IT WAS THE FUCKING CELINE DION TITANIC SONG FOR HOURS ON END!!!!!!!!!!!!

The only good part of it was that it was an instrumental version, which means I didn’t have to hear her voice. Unfortunately, it was a weird instrumental version. It didn’t sound like any instrument I had ever heard before. It sounded like a violin crossed with bagpipes.

It was 33 grams of torture. I might have to start taking ear plugs into work with me from now on….

Seriously???

I’m a fairly laid back guy. It usually takes a lot to get me angry. Most of the time, the things that piss me off are things that happen to me at work. This is another one of those times.

For those of you who don’t already know, my company repairs factory installed car stereos that are still under warranty from the car manufacturer. When I first get to work, my job is to receive all of the radios shipped to us, enter them into the computer, and then give the radios to our techs.

Yesterday, one of the radios we were sent elicited the following email. This is the actual email that was sent by my team lead to our boss. I’ve changed the names and removed something that could be used to identify the company I work for, but, other than that, this is his email.

Boss,

Today we received a (car company) unit that is literally covered in feces. It is the most awful smell I can think of. Should I reject the unit back to the dealer? Or just receive it and send it directly to scrap?

 It appears that there is no media inside but either way I think it should stay there if there is. Lol. I put the unit in a bag and taped every inch of it to seal in the disgusting-ness.

Thank you,

Team Lead

Right now I’m trying to decide what pisses me off more: That a car dealership would send us a radio covered in some kind of animal shit, or that we have to ask for permission before rejecting a radio covered in animal shit.

WTF???

If I ran a car dealership, and a customer brought in a car filled with animal shit, I’d tell them to where to stick that car. I certainly wouldn’t make my mechanics touch it any way. And, if I was the mechanic, and my boss told me to get that radio covered in animal shit out of the car, I’d tell him to get it his damn self because I’m not touching it.

I’m wondering what kind of asshole lets his car get covered in animal shit in the first place. From the looks of it, it was either rat or ferret shit (Granted, I’m no expert in animal shit. So, I’m going with what my team lead said it looked like). The car was less than two years old, so I have a hard time seeing how it was covered in that much shit.

Regardless, it reinforces my belief that people suck…..

Song Stories: Tonight

A long time ago, back when I worked with Newb, we were allowed to bring in our own music and listen to it as we worked (which was awesome. I wish I was allowed to do that now). Most people brought in whatever they wanted and it was no big deal. My work station, however, was near Old Lady Security Guard.

For those of you who never read that particular post, Old Lady Security Guard is a very religious woman who once tried to get me in trouble with my bosses by telling them I was a devil worshipper because I listen to bands like Metallica and Avenged Sevenfold. Needless to say, she was not my favorite person.

Anyways, I had loaded a bit of my music onto the computer there so I could listen to whatever I wanted. After the aforementioned run-in with OLSG, I tried to find all of the songs on there that had cussing in them so I could delete them. I missed one….

I’m not sure how I missed that one, but I did.

That song played as I was in the middle of something, so I forgot that I was supposed to turn it off and delete it. Sure enough, before the song was over, OLSG had brought my boss over there and was complaining. It wasn’t until that point that I was even aware of what song was playing because I was concentrating on my work project. I hit the next button and deleted the song really quick. I apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again (which it didn’t).

That wasn’t good enough for OLSG. She went on a rant for a few minutes about how all I listened to was offensive music and that I shouldn’t be allowed to listen to anything at all. By the time she was finished her inane babbling, a new song came on. It was the song Tonight. Eager to get in one last parting shot, OLSG pouted, “This song is offensive too.”

At that statement, I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing.

Both OLSG and my boss were confused. “What’s so funny,” she demanded.

Ignoring her, I turned to my boss and told him, “Just listen to the lyrics yourself and see if you think it’s offensive.”

You see, it wasn’t the Seether song Tonight. It was the Kutless song Tonight. For those of you who don’t know who Kutless is, they’re a Christian rock band. My boss started listening right towards the end of the first chorus, so he heard all of the second verse.

Even he had a tough time not laughing after hearing that. OLSG’s face went white. He promised to take care of it and she walked away. After she was out of earshot, he told me, “That was awesome. It was so cool seeing her knocked down a peg.”

He stood there BSing with me for a few minutes as I went through the rest of my music looking for songs with “bad” words in them (What OLSG didn’t know is that I worked with my boss’ wife for years at Hellmart and she loved me. He liked me too, so he gave me a lot more slack than any of the other temps got). I found a couple more that I had missed and deleted them. After that was done, he stayed down there for another 10 minutes while we talked about the Reds (He’s a baseball fan), his kids, and the coming of Baby E (This was just after we found out that Mrs. Revis was pregnant). The whole time OLSG was shooting us death glares.

My boss was definitely right. It was very cool seeing OLSG knocked down a peg.

Letter To Strangers

Dear people I haven’t met,

This might be a little hard for you to understand, but just because I’m wearing a football shirt (whether Ohio State or Carolina Panthers), it doesn’t mean I want you to come up and talk to me about it. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy talking about football. I just like to do it with family or friends, not random assholes that happen to be in my vicinity. I know that may sound harsh, especially since I try to be nice to everyone I meet (as I was raised), but there is a reason for me saying that.

Example 1: Today, at work, I was in the middle of a project. Someone who works for the other company in the building, who I had never seen before, comes walking by me. After seeing my shirt (A red t-shirt that says “Ohio State Buckeyes football” on it), he stops.

“Is Ohio State going to beat Michigan State in the Big 10 championship game on Saturday,” he asks.

I wanted to say something sarcastic, something like, “I must be wearing my fortune teller clothes today, otherwise how could you have known that I can predict the future?” I held my tongue, though, because, once again, I was raised to be nice. Also, I was at work and I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble.

So, I played nice and gave him the short version of my opinion on the game. I didn’t want to spend too much time on it because I had to get my work done. When I was done, he said a few things and I gave him the “I’m not paying attention, but good point” head nod. Thankfully, he finally took the hint as he walked away afterwards.

Less than a minute later is when I started calling him an asshole. Because he interrupted me, I lost track of what I had been doing and I now had to start my project over from the beginning. It took me 25 minutes to finish up something that would’ve only taken 5 more minutes had he just kept his mouth shut.

Example 2: In January of 2011, Mrs. Revis and I were shopping. Once again, I was wearing Ohio State gear, only this time, it was a jersey. We weren’t shopping for anything in particular, just kind of walking around when I heard someone say, “Hey.”

Since I didn’t recognize the voice, I kept walking. Then, they said, “Hey, Buckeye.”

With a sigh, I turned around and asked the guy what was up. He puts on a shit-eating grin and asks, “What does Ohio State’s football team have in common with marijuana?”

I didn’t care what his answer was going to be, so I simply played along and asked, “What?”

“They both get smoked in bowls.”

I will admit that it was a clever joke. During Jim Tressell’s run at Ohio State, with the exception of the year they won the National Championship, his teams didn’t do very good in bowl games.

However, that year (which turned out to be his last season because of the tattoo scandal), a year that they said a Big 10 school couldn’t beat an SEC team, my Buckeyes beat Arkansas in a BCS game.

So, in response to his joke, I said as I walked away, “Tell that to Arkansas.”

Either this guy was a Razorback fan (making him stupid for even bringing it up), or he was mentally unstable, because he went nuts when I said that. He started cursing and throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the store. Mrs. Revis and I got the hell out of there as quickly as we could because we didn’t want to end up on the news.

In conclusion, don’t assume that just because I like football that I’m willing to talk to anyone, at anytime, about it. If you feel that you must talk to me about it, at least ask if I have time to talk about it first. I might be in the middle of something. I could be working, or trying to have some family time. Or maybe I just won’t be in the mood to be hounded by weird strangers who assume I care what they think about football.

A Stupid Question

Despite what your teachers told you when you were younger, there is, in fact, such a thing as a stupid question. Most, if not all, of us hear at least one of them a day. Unfortunately, they are something that we have to deal with, no matter how much we might wish otherwise.

If you don’t believe me, go and listen to one of Bill Engvall’s Here’s Your Sign bits. Sure, some of those might be made up for comedic effect, but, something tells me, most of them aren’t.

Need further proof? Here’s one that’s happened to me. The question is so stupid, I was surprised I got it once. Imagine my surprise when I got it a second time.

Some of you might remember my Newb stories. I could tell you who he is, but I think I’d rather just put a link in here and make you go read my older posts (I’m an evil genius! MWAHAHAHA!). By the time Baby E was six months old, it had been close to a year since I had last seen Newb. One day, while out grocery shopping with my family, we ran into him. After saying our hellos, he proceeded with the stupidity.

“Is that your baby,” he asked, pointing at Baby E.

I was very tempted to say something Bill Engvall-like at this point. “Nope. We figured we’d go ahead and get her since she’s on sale this week. Here’s your sign.”

Instead, I simply told him yes, while Mrs. Revis was giving me a, “Is this guy actually serious?” look. I made up an excuse for why we couldn’t talk longer and we got out of there. At the time, I just put the stupid question down to the fact that Newb isn’t very bright and then kind of forgot about it.

Jump ahead to one of my current coworkers. This guy doesn’t have a history of saying stupid things like Newb does. Once again, it happened while we were out grocery shopping. I saw him a little bit further up the aisle, so, while Mrs. Revis was looking at something, I pushed the cart over to him so I could say hello. When I got there, I told Baby E to say hello too, but she just stared at him blankly. That’s when he hit me with the stupidity.

“That your kid?”

I had to hold in my inner Bill Engvall a second time. “Nope. That’s a diaper coupon. They just made it life-size. Here’s your sign.”

Now, if they didn’t know I had a daughter, this wouldn’t be a stupid question. Both of them knew, though. Seriously, who else would it be? Did they think I grabbed a random kid out of someone else’s cart and started walking around with them? Idiots….

I Hate to Say This….

..but I’m about to generalize. I really don’t like doing that. In this case however, I feel like it might be justified. This is something that I started noticing when I started working at my job. So to explain, I’ll need to give you a basic description of what I do.

I work for a small company (less than 15 people total). We work in a building with a large company that manufactures factory car stereos (Or, in other words, the stereos that originally come in the cars). The company I work for does subcontract work for the large company, where we fix the car stereos they have that are still under warranty.

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