The International House of Mike The Janitor

ipadio: Mike The Janitor's Phat Ass Phonecasts - 101st phonecast

2010-03-16T11:35:00.001-06:00

ipadio: Mike The Janitor's Phat Ass Phonecasts - 100th phonecast

2010-03-16T09:23:00.001-06:00

Mike The Janitor: Season 37 (Director's Cut)

2010-02-28T14:08:00.004-07:00

After cutting, editing, producing and piecing together "Mike The Janitor: Season 37", I decided that I would make it a "Special Edition". After the work I went to to make the damn thing (over the course of a week), I came to find that I wasn't totally happy with the finished product.

So I decided to stay with the same theme and change it up a bit and make a "Director's Cut". You'll notice the changes between the two works. If you don't, I would suggest watching both of them repeatedly. Hell, have a viewing party and dissect each production.

My personal storytelling through all of these pictures is still there, but the meaning of some is skewed to reflect people and places of far more or greater importance than others.

This IS NOT to say that the people and places reflected in the "Director's Cut" that get less screen time than others are less important in my life. I just wanted to highlight some people more than others because of my personal history with them.

This is why I wish I had more pictures. There are so many other wonderful events, places and people photographed in my mind that I just don't have translated on to film or some sort of digital medium.

I need to put more effort into changing that. I love taking pictures and I always have. I regret somewhat that I didn't pursue this more as I got older. But it's never too late to start all over again, yes?

A friend asked me in an instant message how many pictures I went through to make this production. I think 423 total pictures are used in this video vignette. I have a library of photographs. I'm sure it's easily over 1500 pictures. 500 or so are actual prints. Of all the film prints I leafed through, 60 of those I had to scan.

On a personal note here, this is another area where the Church of Technology has made photo prints obsolete. I've written a blog or two about this before. Although I'm happy with my digital camera and the ease of use (and being able to instantly see what I've photographed), I can say that I miss the excitement and work in taking pictures the old school way with film.

I miss being able to drop off some rolls of film and looking forward to picking them up to see how they turned out. Sometimes you'd get some pictures that were bad and shot poorly. The light was bad, the angle was bad, the background messes with the foreground, etc.

But sometimes the bad pictures would be wonderful art in themselves. They could occasionally be a rare gem that was just blind luck the way it turned out. It's just not the same with a digital camera.

In the words of Paul Simon: "Mama, don't take my Kodachrome away".

With that, enjoy the Director's Cut of "Mike The Janitor: Season 37"

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing & Productions

Mike The Janitor: Season 37 (Special Edition)

2010-02-27T16:23:00.003-07:00

Believe it or not, it took me an entire week to put this together. Of course, I've been working on it in bits and pieces.

The reason this is the "Special Edition" is due to the fact that after viewing it, something was missing. It didn't flow the way I wanted it to and just didn't turn out as I had thought it would when creating it in my head.

Therefore, I'm in the process of making a "Director's Cut" which may be available as early as this evening. The editing and timing are very problematic and time consuming. And I just don't want to lose my creative edge or focus here, people!

Originally, this was going to be a small video vignette set to a completely different song just over two and a half minutes. It was only going to showcase my life from the age of 36 to 37.

But as I discovered more and more pictures, I wanted to broaden my approach to encompass as much of my life, thus far. Plus, I found a song in my vast music collection that really hits the point of this production home.

This is, by far, one of my most personal video works to date.

I'd like to thank the band "Muse" for writing such a wonderful piece of music that I got very emotional every time this track played early on in my editing process.

I dedicate this work to all of you. To those few that are still in my life and to those that have come and gone. I wish I had more pictures of people and places I was once a part of.

If you can learn anything from this, know that you should ALWAYS take pictures. They are the window to the soul and something to have and cherish.

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing & Productions

Hello, I'm Mike and I'm psychotic. And you are?

2010-02-27T05:59:00.002-07:00

You know the classic term "Let sleeping dogs lie"? Yeah, I don't think so. Speaking of sleeping dogs, that's exactly what I should be doing. But I can't. I keep having these episodes where I'm waking up choking on stomach bile. Do you think that means something?

Probably.

Last night I settled in to spend another Friday night alone with some beer and a steak. This would probably explain the waking up choking on stomach bile problem. I'm stressed out and my body is on the brink of complete breakdown. So it should come as no surprise that acid reflux is becoming an issue for me.

I've also noticed that my weight gain is causing my man titties to become larger. And I just can't afford a whole new wardrobe that includes a "bro" or "manssiere". I'm pushing a whopping 268 pounds and I'm just not down with that, my cyber peeps.

Screw it. Bring on the heart attack and/or stroke.

Anyway...

Since I can't sleep, I might as well get up and blog about the fact that I can't sleep, right? Sure, why not?! And while I'm at it, I should continue the drama that has unfolded between myself and a certain someone who was already named in a previous blog.

In my masterpiece "Yo, Adrian" posted only a few hours ago, I brought to light some recent events that not only made ME come off looking like a douche bag but, quite possibly, the girl I had been seeing lately.

Wait, I'd like to motion to strike the fact that I just said "girl". Someone sent me an email saying that maybe Adrian dumped my ass because I would occasionally refer to her as "girl".

Seriously? Of all things to consider in this mess, THAT'S what you focus on? My God. And she didn't "dump" me. Nor did I "dump" her. It seems that we just parted ways, I guess.

I'm being totally psychotic AND neurotic because I just can't let things go. I just can't put this behind me. I have to beat it like a dead horse or like Michael Jackson. And since I have neither a dead horse or Michael Jackson to beat it with, this blog will have to suffice.

After I posted my blog, I went to my living room to enjoy that steak I mentioned earlier. I also had about a beer and a half. I started to watch "Thank You For Smoking" that I received from Netflix.

Right at the opening credits, the Adrian drama started to unfold further. It would appear that Adrian was sending me a text message in response to my text message I had sent her during the course of me composing "Yo, Adrian".

If you're presently lost in everything that is going on, I suggest you dump out of this blog and go read the other blog and catch up, okay? Okay. But to refresh your memory for those of you that have read it, I had sent a text message to her after noticing that she had deleted me as her friend on Netflix.

Pissed off that she had done this, I fired off with:

"Don't forget to delete me from Facebook, too, you inconsiderate, selfish twit."

Surprisingly, she responded. It's funny that she'll respond to this attention and drama but can't wish me a happy birthday. THE NERVE!

So, here's my version of "Texts From Last Night" that continued until just after midnight. Another reason why I'm up at 6:00 AM and couldn't sleep. And you'll notice a lot of her texts are the standard, run-of-the-mill, "it's not you, it's me" bullshit.

Actually, it ISN'T her. It IS me. Well, maybe it's equal parts of her being crazy and me being crazy. We just couldn't seem to mesh our collective crazy. I suppose I should have just had slutty sex with her and not vested so much into it.

To be honest, I'd still hit it. Totally. Hands down. Easy. OH COME ON! Don't look at me like that, cyber friends and readers! Cut me some damn slack here. So what if I still want to have sex with her after all of this! BIG DEAL! And you know what? I think she'd totally be down.

Now I have to figure out a way to work a different angle so I can get some repeated tapping action. Hmmmmmm... I'll get back to you on that. If you have any ideas on how I can win the heart of her vagina, I'm all ears.

Plus, we'd have some awesome angry sex. I'm getting turned on by this. Okay, this is just sick and wrong. But that's what makes it fun and exciting!

I'll admit it, I'm troubled.

Okay, okay, okay... the text messages.

Adrian retorted to my wise-ass Facebook deletion comment with the following: (incidentally, she also deleted me as a friend from Facebook)

"Thanks for the reminder. My Netflix got canceled because I needed to update my credit card. You probably assumed I removed you; thus the text and Facebook messages. Honestly, I wasn't sure how I felt about things but you did a great job making up my mind".

Yes, I'm sure I did.

Let the childish text argument begin.

So I shot back:

"And your constant excuses made up my mind. So let us both fuck off and call it good. Ok? Super".

I'm on a roll. She responds with:

"Excuses? Check Netflix. I'm still on your "friends". Anyway, agreed. Take care."

So I check my Netflix and, sure enough, she is back. Ohhhhh, how sweet. She cares! *sniffle* She's completed my circle of life by re-adding me on Netflix! There is a God! My prayers have been answered! Praise Jesus!

I continue this silly texting romp with:

"Would you exit stage left, please? You're so full of shit. If you gave a damn about me or this, you would have called. Now go hang out with your TV."

My words are like a hot poker in the eye! She responds simply:

"Exiting."

Now, to be a real sarcastic dick, I follow it up with:

"I love you."

And that was that. I proceeded to watch "Thank You For Smoking" and enjoy myself doing so. But at the end of the movie, I started to feel bad. Really bad. I wasn't satisfied and I wanted closure. I wanted an explanation.

So I fired up the phone keypad and hit up Adrian again. I sent her a text that opened up with:

"Adrian?"

But she doesn't respond. At least, not right away.

I went to bed at just before 11:00 PM. At 11:22 PM, my phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. I think I must have been almost completely asleep because I recall waking up abruptly to the buzz buzz buzz of the vibration noise against the surface of my nightstand.

It was Adrian. She was finally responding to me.

"Sorry. I'm pretty confused."

No kidding? Me too! Small world! Here is the duration of our text conversation in it's entirety without my dumb commentary:

ME: "What do you really want? Honestly?"

HER: "Go with the flow and see how it worked out. I made some mistakes. I apologize for treating you like this."

HER: "I know this will sound like an excuse but my phone dumped all of my texts. So I'm not sure if you got my last ones."

HER: "In case you didn't, I'm sorry for the way things went down. I apologize for the way I treated you. It was not right."

HER: "Honestly, I was not into you as much as you were into me. But I wanted more time to see if that could change. But my inconsiderate actions made it difficult."

ME: "Very well."

HER: "I think it is pretty clear I'm not in a good place to start a relationship. I'm very sorry I wasted your time."

ME: "Okay. I get it. Blah, blah, blah. Thank you. Goodbye."

And that was that. I fell asleep for about four hours until I woke up choking on my stomach bile. Such is life.

Now, should Adrian want to use me for sex, I might as well jump on that because I've already lost the possibility of a relationship. She might as well test drive my junk while she has the chance.

You know what's funny? While she was away in Brazil, I had the opportunity TWICE to get my sex on. But I didn't. I was saving myself, FOR HER, like some kind of duped virgin. WHAT. THE. HELL.? I think Adrian and I owe it to each other to go back and indulge in the sinful fornication that we weren't having because that's clearly what caused this entire problem.

Because I changed my way of doing things and not wanting to be a man-whore, it messed up my game. Here I found someone who was WANTING me to be a man-whore and I completely dropped the ball.

DUH!

Therefore, I need to find a "go-to skank". That's right. I said it. A "go-to skank". Since this developing relationship has become a colossal goat fuck ruin, I've created a link on my website to start accepting applications for my own, personal "go-to skank".

It's obvious that if I was getting some sexy time on a regular basis, I'd feel more at ease with day-to-day life. I might as well accept that I'm going to be alone the rest of my life and be a permanent bachelor. Because, let's face it, I have no idea how the hell to act. I might as well cash in on being a whore.

Interested ladies, APPLY NOW!

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing

Yo, Adrian!

2010-02-26T16:04:00.003-07:00

For all the women I've dated or had relationships with, you'll want to read this blog, I'm sure. Especially if you're a woman I've scorned in some way, shape or form. I'm positive that this will be very enjoyable for you to know that I got what was coming to me (and then some).

I'm not really sure where to even start with this. I'm am so completely confused, frustrated, sad, let down, heart broke and utterly PISSED OFF that I just can't make out the proper way to begin this blog slaughter.

The fact that I've set out to do a "blog slaughter" probably says everything. Yet I'm also feeling a sense of loss because of what has happened. Or what HASN'T happened, would be a better way to put it.

Let me start at the beginning.

In the middle of this past December, I met someone. Her name is Adrian. I met Adrian because she had left a comment on my website regarding my "CBS Cares - Pap Smear" video parody. I came to find out later that she found me because of my Craigs List personal post.

I clicked on her picture within the comment and read the few blogs she had posted through Blogger. Not only did I find very funny and charming, but sweet and sexy, too. So I figured I didn't have anything to lose. I sent her an email and asked her out.

She agreed.

Our first meeting was at my ol' watering hole, Alchemy Coffee. When we met, I gave her a book called "The Broke Diaries" that I was very fond of and had read a couple of times. I gave her this book because Adrian reminded of the book's author, Angela Nissel. Adrian also looks similar to Angela Nissel.

Adrian and I hit it off great. At least, I like to think so. I was excited to meet someone that was very much like myself. In retrospect, she turned out to be way too much like myself.

In her defense, she warned me early on that she has a really bad habit of being late and slightly aloof. She has proven this to me more than once. She was even late to our first meeting.

She also warned of her ability to be selfish. She sometimes just wants to be left alone so she she can visit with her couch and television.

But as we started seeing each other more, the more I became attracted to Adrian. I wanted to spend more time with her. I wanted to do more things with her. She was the "it" girl for me. And I was enjoying her company a great deal. There was a lot of promise.

Until now.

It has completely fallen apart.

I feel bad but I also can't help but laugh at it all, really.

I confessed to Adrian recently that I was really starting to like her more than I thought. I even told her that I had removed all personal ads I had floating around the web. Maybe it was there that she started to move away.

Actually, I'm not sure what what initially set her off. And it's the not knowing that just kills me. If you're not interested, just tell me. And if you have any sense of decency, give me an explanation as to the reasoning behind it.

And this is where I have to laugh. Who am I to ask for such consideration? What Adrian has done to me, I HAVE DONE numerous times to women from my past.

And you know what? It hurts. It really, really hurts. But I'm hurting with a smile on my face because Adrian's actions have turned out to be another meeting with the true love of my life, Bad Karma.

Bad Karma and I go way back. Back as far as I can remember. Even when I'm getting it on with Good Karma, Bad Karma shows up with a six-pack and some type of trouble.

I guess what really hurts is the fact that I'm too old for this shit anymore. And so is Adrian to be pulling such a stunt. Yes, I can't deny that I'm shaking my head and thinking "what a bitch" while I type this. But so what? She wasted a couple of months of my time. Big deal.

I'm getting off track here. Let me pick up from where we first started dating.

Adrian, to my knowledge, is the first woman I've ever cooked for. If you women out there reading have had me cook for you, refresh my memory, would ya? But I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that Adrian was my first.

What compelled me to do it was the simple fact that I wanted to. I thought it would be nice. It would be something to try that I have never done before which would get me outside of my comfort zone.

After that, we hung out several times. Adrian even had me over to her place and made me dinner twice. She even took me out to dinner once and I did the same for her. We were having fun.

It was great to learn things about one another that lit a spark in both of us. We both love movies (I loaned her my copy of "There Will Be Blood" because she hadn't seen it yet), we both love the new Bud Light Wheat Ale beer, we both love music (I even loaned her my flash drive with a ton of music on it for her to load into her iPod), we both wanted to travel the largest cruise ship in the world, the "Oasis Of The Sea" and we had a lot of other common interests.

And here is another fact. A private fact. I never once slept with Adrian. Not once. Didn't even try. We got hot and bothered several times in each others company but the sinful fornication didn't take place.

Do you want to know why?

Because I didn't want to leap right into bed with her. I have a case history of this and it ruins everything. Starting a relationship founded on sex is bad, bad, bad. I wanted to try something new where I really got to know the person and got turned on by them in other ways besides physical.

Now, Adrian is smoking hot and sexy. And she really did turn me on. But I really wanted something more than just a casual fling. But, it would appear that Adrian was more for the casual fling sort of thing. I guess.

Of course, I have to assume that because I have no idea what the hell is going through Adrian's head. I don't know because she has failed to tell me. And she has failed to tell me because, as a female friend put it with her perspective:

"Mike, she's just not that into you."

True dat.

I have spoke of this Adrian scandal with two men and three women. And ALL five of them we're like "oh, that's a red flag". One friend (male) flat out said:

"Dude, what the hell were you thinking? You just needed to be nailing this girl because clearly that's all she wanted. She laid it out on the line that she's a selfish bitch and you're angry at HER for it? C'mon!"

Damn you, Bill.

Another take (from a female) was:

"I want to kick her ass, Mike. How the fuck can you be 30 and still act like this?"

"Well, Rachel, look who you're talking to. I'm 37."

"Mike, men are different. No offense, but you guys are always a bunch of retarded children until you're about the age you've reached now. You've told me that you conveyed your feelings for her, you were up front about wanting to be with her and she goes and pisses it away by being uncommunicative like some kind of infant? You're a good catch, Mike. You really are. I was jealous when you started talking about this girl because I wanted something like that between you and I years ago, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. But the sex..."

"OH YEAH! The sex was great. I have no regrets. I adore you. If I wasn't married, I'd totally do you now. Relive the past a little, yeah?"

"Rachel? Seriously? Come on now."

"WHAT?! Listen, this girl is going through what you were going through at 30, remember? You can't fault her for it. She'll get to be 37 like you and reflect the same way. But I don't agree with her completely voiding you from her life like a bad check."

Let me continue to try and stay on track so that you can all understand (as best as I can describe it) about how this fell apart.

When I first met Adrian, she informed me that in the middle of February, she was taking a trip to Brazil. She was going to celebrate Carnival in Rio de Janeiro and spend two weeks there on a vacation getaway.

During our initial getting to know you chit-chat, this Brazil trip became a point of conversation because we were asking each other about when our birthdays are. She pointed out that she would be returning home to Utah on the night of my birthday.

So, let's fast forward here.

Here we are in February, things appear to be going great as far as us dating. We had a small tiff when I became irritated at the fact that I seem to be putting more into being interested in her than I was receiving. Basically, I wanted a better idea of just what it was I meant to her, if anything.

She told me that I was on her mind constantly. But she just didn't convey it well because she was, in fact, selfish. She didn't want to have to be responsible for the happiness of someone else because of a bad relationship she had recently got out of where that's all she did.

Okay, makes sense. I get it.

(In a side note, one of my male friends said that this was such a serious red flag that he couldn't believe that I continued to try after the revelation and I shouldn't be surprised I'm feeling the way I do now.)

I didn't get to see Adrian before she left for Brazil. And it would seem that the last time I did see her, was the last time I'll ever see her.

The last message I received from Adrian was a text in response to a text I sent her. My text was as follows:

Feb. 10th, 2010 8:31 AM
"Have a great time in Brazil, Adrian. I will miss you a great deal while you are gone. I'm sorry I didn't get to see you before you left."

Her response was:

Feb. 10th, 2010 3:52 PM
"I almost missed my flight!! What a frantic morning. My car is still at short term parking. Anyway, thank you for the well wishes. See you soon."

I remember thinking when I got that response how inconsiderate she came off. I know she was traveling to Brazil with a close female friend of hers. I also know that this trip was planned WAY in advance. How fucking hard is it to pull your head out of your selfish ass and actually BE ON TIME for once in your life? Better yet, AHEAD OF SCHEDULE? HELLO?

During the two weeks while Adrian was away, she wasn't far from my thoughts. I even printed out her picture which still sits on my desk here in front of me. Would you like to see it?

I love this picture.

Anyway, I wanted to play it cool when Adrian got back. But I was secretly hoping to see her on my birthday. Sadly, no dice. I did figured that she probably needed a day or two to decompress from her trip and get reacquainted with her job.

Here's where the drama unfolds.

I will also preface this by saying that I made a really stupid mistake.

I also need to mention that when Adrian came back, my phone was turned off. This is trivial considering that if you really want to get a hold of me, there are other ways. The only reason I mention it is because it plays a part in what I'm relaying here.

Using my company cell phone, I sent a text message to Adrian on Tuesday night, February 23rd at 6:55 PM which stated:

"So, yeah, Didn't pay the phone bill. You can reach me on my company cell in the meantime. This is Mike. Welcome home."

By Wednesday night, I still hadn't heard from her. So I decided to give her a call.

But when I did, I heard a young girl on the other end. Some girl naked McKenzie was in control of Adrian's phone. The outgoing message said something like:

"Hey, this is McKenzie. I can't answer you call right now so leave me a message. Thanks!" *beep*

I hang up.

Perplexed, I look at my phone screen to see if I have, in fact, called the right number. It looks like Adrian's number. What the hell is going on?

I call again.

This time I leave a message with McKenzie and I say:

"Uh, hey McKenzie. My name is Mike and I'm trying to reach this girl I've been dating, Adrian. I swear this was her phone number the last time I called it a couple of weeks ago. Weird, huh? What the hell, right? Oh well. Thanks!"

What makes this even more lame is the fact that I wasn't even drunk when I left that message for McKenzie. I was 100% sober. Even sober, I can't seem to think straight.

So, like a crazed, desperate, clingy man, I start driving myself NUTS trying to figure out why the hell Adrian is treating me like this? And how in the hell did someone else get her old number so quickly?

It takes about three minutes before I'm just pissed at her lack of care in not even trying to contact. I send her an email via my work phone. On Wednesday, February 24, 2010 at 8:02:08 PM, to be exact. It simply read:

"Keep the movie"

This is referring to the movie I had loaned her (There Will Be Blood) early on in our dating. To my knowledge, she has still yet to watch it. It was also my way of saying "Fuck You" to the fact that she had treated me so poorly.

I then call and do a Mike The Janitor "Phat Ass Phonecast" proclaiming that Adrian is pulling some dumb stunt and I'm out 20 bucks because she still has my damn movie and USB flash drive. I also convey in the phonecast that I'm truly hurt by her behavior and I don't understand where it's coming from and that I'm upset that she didn't even wish me a "happy birthday".

It's true. And this should have been the ultimate red flag for me to get a clue that she wasn't interested. Everyone I know, including some people I don't, wished me a happy birthday. But the ONE PERSON it really would have meant something from was Adrian.

Enter McKenzie's mom. Remember McKenzie? To give you a better idea of what I was thinking at the time, I had honestly thought that Adrian was too much of a pussy to tell me what the problem was and why she wasn't interested in seeing me anymore. So she had a young family member or friend's kid recorded an outgoing message to throw me off.

I know what you're thinking.

I was thinking it myself.

I'm thinking it now.

What kind of lunatic has such thoughts? What kind of man presents himself in such a way as to come off like I just have? Who thinks like this? Is this chic THAT important to me that I lose sight of things as well as my own dignity?

You'd think I'd be a crazed nutjob like this if I had actually had sex with her and it was mind blowing, right? THAT would be a reason to probably sustain my complete act of crazy here. Mind blowing sex does just that. It blows your mind.

Men know what I'm talking about here. When you hook up with a lady and you're doing some hardcore awesome nasty, it's hard to let that go, yes? You'll act like a total douche bag just to try and salvage the possibility of getting more lovin' from the Easy Bake Oven, right?

Mind blowing sex can make you forget who you are and how you should act and blah, blah, blah. I've been down that road. I'm ashamed of certain actions on my part regarding such past issues.

But here I am acting like a creepy stalker, almost. Trying to gain Adrian's attention when CLEARLY the woman just damn well don't want to reciprocate. WAKE UP, MIKE!

Wait, wait, wait... I don't know that yet. Not at this moment on Wednesday. And in Adrian's defense, she may of still had feelings for me until what I'm about to share with you happened.

Back to McKenzie's mom.

It turns out that I had, in fact, dialed the wrong number. I know because McKenzie's mom called me back to lecture me for leaving a message on her 11-year old daughter's voicemail. She asked me not to ever call again and she didn't appreciate my swearing. She also went on to say that McKenzie had the phone number that I dialed for quite sometime and it did not belong to "my ex-girlfriend".

Her entire message was in a scathing mom voice. You know the "mom" voice? Where a mom will talk to an adult like myself as if I'm also 11? Yeah, that voice.

McKenzie's mom didn't actually talk to me. When I saw my phone light up displaying the number of what I thought was Adrian's, I let it go to voicemail. In my mind, that was Adrian calling and I was going to punish her even further than the "Keep the movie" email I had sent earlier.

In my mind, I didn't want to hear anymore of Adrian's excuses about this or about that. In my mind, I was tired of trying to show her how interested I was and how much I enjoyed being with her. In my mind, I was upset that someone could be so piss poor with their own feelings and emotions towards someone else.

Wow, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black.

When I listened to the voicemail, I'm sure most of you can gather what I started thinking. It dawned on me that I had jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst. When, in actuality, it was very possible Adrian was planning on reaching out to me.

But I'll never know because, if anything, I've given her an easy out by giving her the ability to use this oddball bullshit I've pulled as an excuse to not see me anymore.

After I realized I had made this stupid mistake, I recorded another phonecast explaining what I had done and how awful I felt.

I've since deleted both of these phonecasts. I sort of regret doing that because it would be nice to have them for you all to listen to as well as myself. It can't be anymore embarrassing to Adrian or myself than this blog here.

I called Adrian's actual number yesterday and left her a message expressing how sorry I was for jumping to conclusions the way I had. I also let her know that she is a part of a video I've made that I'm posting on my website tomorrow.

Aside from the mishap with the wrong number and all, I'm not completely sure why Adrian won't speak to me. Some of you may be laughing out loud and exclaiming "ARE YOU SERIOUS! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I WOULDN'T CONTACT YOU, EITHER!"

Adrian meant something to me. I really liked her. And I'm truly and sincerely hurt by all of this. Yes, I am to blame for some of it. But is what I did so outlandish that it deserves such cruel tactics as erasing me from your life?

What's escalated this even more is the fact that when I logged onto my NetFlix account earlier, Adrian was gone. Adrian was my only NetFlix friend. Adrian was the one that sold me on NetFlix. As a matter a fact, every time I'm on NetFlix, I think of her.

When I noticed that she deleted me from NetFlix, I carried this ridiculous story even further by sending her a snide, juvenile text message which said:

"Don't forget to delete me from Facebook, too, you inconsiderate, selfish twit."

But it doesn't stop there. In my last ditch effort to have the last word and get a rise out of her, I left her a voicemail where I just went off on the fact that she owes me some kind of explanation as to what the hell she was thinking and yell, yell, yell.

A female co-worker of mine (who is slightly older) said it best when learning of this situation earlier today when I told her about it at work. She said that had Adrian really been interested, she would have put in the time, care and communication that shows interest.

She went on to say that if she really cared for me or thought about me the way she had alluded to in several of our conversations, not only would she have wished me a happy birthday, she would have contacted me from Brazil or getting back from Brazil.

And she's right.

Adrian just wasn't into me. I don't need an explanation because the childish silent treatment is all that I need. It reaffirms the fact that when I got too close by confessing my feelings for her, she wasn't down with that. It was just too much work.

I think what is ultimately awful and hurtful is the fact that I TRIED. I wanted to break free of my own selfish, self-centered ways and apply myself at starting something with someone I was interested in. Is that so goddamn wrong?

If I don't try hard enough, it blows up in my face. If I try too hard, it blows up in my face. If I think I've got it just right, it blows up in my face.

I'm not the best when it comes to relationships. I've had some downright miserable failures where both parties have come off hurt. And, in most cases, I was to blame. I have my faults. I have my issues. I have my past. I have my present. I have what all of us have... baggage.

Adrian helped free my mind from said baggage. I thought Adrian was my flight out of this dump into "Promise-Of-A-New-Day Land". With an extended layover in "Happyville". Sadly, she turned out to be nothing more than a empty cargo plane with a couch, TV and Netflix subscription looking for nothing more than a refueling plane to insert it's fueling hose in her occasionally.

Maybe that isn't the best metaphor but I don't care.

Even after all of this, I can honestly say I'm going to miss her.

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing

My birthday cake

2010-02-21T18:34:00.005-07:00

The image you see here is a German chocolate cake that my mom made for me to celebrate my 37th birthday (February 21st). What you're looking at is the Sesame Street character "Cookie Monster" wearing a chef's hat and holding a birthday cake that says "Happy Birthday" on it. If you click on the picture, you'll get a REALLY big picture.

She made it from a cake mold she found at a thrift store several years ago. She also gave me about one trillion German chocolate cupcakes, too. GO MOM! Now, I can't eat that many cupcakes so I gave some to my neighbor, Greg.

I will admit that some of these luscious cupcakes I'm going to eat myself (along with this ENTIRE cake with some milk and ice cream).

The rest of the cupcakes I'm going to sell to struggling, obese school children like some kind of black market cupcake dealing gangsta. I'm so going to make bank! CHA-CHING! Eat up, FATTIES!

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing, Baking & Black Market Dealings

I worship at the Church of Technology

2010-02-21T09:33:00.004-07:00

Thanks to Netflix, I have a world of movie watching now available at my finger tips. Since I spend a good majority of my time in front of my computer on the internet, I can now shift that energy to either watching movies online or plopping down on my couch and watching DVD's.

This isn't to say I've never had a world of movie watching available to me. I have, of course. Back in my day we had these places called video stores where you would physically go there and rent something. And back in my day, it all started on a thing called a "VHS".

Now that I think about it, I don't know that I've ever actually known the definition of "VHS". Let me Google that for you and myself so we can learn together...

*Enters "what does 'VHS' stand for" into Google search engine*

Video Home System, better known by its abbreviation VHS, is a video tape recording standard developed during the 1970s. It was released to the public during the latter half of the decade. During the late part of the 1970s and the early 1980s, the home video industry was involved in the VHS vs. Betamax war, which VHS would eventually win. Advantages of VHS include longer playing time, faster rewinding and fast-forwarding, and a less complex tape transport mechanism. The open standard used for VHS technology allowed mass production without licensing costs. VHS would eventually succeed as the dominant home video format, surpassing others by the 1990s.

In later years, optical disc formats began to offer better quality than video tape. The earliest of these formats, Laserdisc, was not widely adopted, but the later DVD format eventually did achieve mass acceptance and took over in film studios, then retailers, and finally video rental stores. By 2006, the United States had stopped releasing new movie titles in VHS format, opting for others such as DVD and Blu-ray Disc. On December 31, 2008, the last major United States supplier of pre-recorded VHS tapes, Distribution Video Audio Inc. of Palm Harbor, Florida, shipped its final truckload. Currently, most of the VHS tapes being produced are blank.

Well, that was interesting and a learning experience. Let it be said that you will always walk away from a Mike The Janitor blog with more knowledge than you came here with.

Granted, there are still video.. wait, let me rephrase that... DVD rental stores that you can go to and get whatever film suits your fancy. In some states, NOT UTAH, you can even rent sinful fornication porn.

But with the advent of NetFlix and RedBox, who needs such places anymore? I'm sorry to say it but gone are the days of heading out to your local video store and picking up a flick for the night and/or weekend.

And it's too bad, really. Sometimes it was cool to head over to the video store. Sometimes, if you were a regular (like I was), you'd get to know the staff at your local video store and talk movies. You'd even run into other movie buffs and talk about this film or that film whilst browsing.

Video stores were a great social networking venue.

But now it's all about shutting up and shutting down in the privacy of your own home. I've always said that we are in a connected society of disconnect. People would much rather text than speak. People would much rather order things from the confines of their home than actually go out and have to encounter other humans.

I can be just as guilty of this as anyone. I'm like the pot calling the kettle black. Case in point, it's been far more easier for me in recent years to open up with one of my blogs than it is to convey such thoughts, ideas or random, mindless spew in the form of a conversation directed towards someone.

We, as a society, have become lazy oafs. And I'm cool with that. When the aliens land on our planet, they will find the streets empty. All they will discover are a bunch of lethargic fatties sprawled out on their couches, socializing on their laptops, watching TV and living in stacks and stacks of high-rise living spaces.

All the property on the planet will be nothing more than these buildings full of fattie balloon humans rotting away in front of their 82" LED televisions while their iPad offers them a continuing online world of ordering and living.

No one will own a home because it's too much trouble to upkeep. It's too much trouble to conduct any type of physical (or even mental) labor because all you want to do is waste away in front of your Samsung God.

Pray at the altar of Philips, Magnavox, LG, Sony, GE and RCA. Your sins will be washed away by Toshiba. Your spirit will be redeemed by Microsoft. You will be ordained by the power of Apple.

Your new God is technology. And boy oh boy is it fun to worship.

I should know because I, too, am a convert. I try to cling onto what little old school stuff I have just to remind me of how it all began. But some of that stuff is just so slow and bulky to use.

I have in my possession a working rotary phone, a pager, an AM/FM 3-Compact Disc Dual Cassette Stereo, an AM/FM Cassette Sony Walkman, an AM/FM CD Player Sony Walkman, a GE handheld cassette recorder, a very early generation Philips CD burner, two 15" Sony Trinitron color monitors for my two Apple Performa desktop computers, a working 8MM home projector and loads of VHS tapes, cassettes and compact discs.

10 years ago ALL of this stuff was the bomb and hip. Just as the words "bomb" and "hip" were cool things to say. But, alas, as I celebrate my 37th birthday, all these things do is remind me of how old I've gotten.

You know what else I own that will soon be obsolete? DVD's and a DVD player. Pretty soon I'll have to succumb to the "Blu-ray" way of life. Jesus!

When I owned vinyl records I replaced my collection with cassette tapes. When cassette tapes became lame, I replaced that collection with CD's. When CD's became a thing of the past, I converted my collection to MP3 and now download all my music to my computer's hard drive.

George Orwell would have a field day with these modern times. Why don't we all just have a USB port installed in our skulls and plug in? The days of "The Matrix" are not too far away, I believe.

Advancements in the Technology God made our viewing pleasure that much more pleasurable. Technology God took TV Christ in for a facelift. Gone are the old tube televisions. Those have been replaced with cheaper, slimmer and more vibrant technology in the form of plasma, LCD and LED televisions.

Should you still own a tube TV (uh, HELLO?), you can't watch it without a digital converter box. Even the signals we once received to watch television programming became obsolete.

You know what else is quickly becoming an antique? Books. Eventually everyone's online life will abolish all physical materials we use. Like paper.

The irony here is the fact that I work for an envelope production company. And we all know what email, online banking, online bill pay and online EVERYTHING has done to the stranglehold the United States Postal Service has had for eons.

I sometimes catch myself not realizing a postal carrier is bringing me mail when this stranger walks up to my door and puts items into a box outside my door. What? Who is that? What are they doing? Ohhhhhh... it's a soon-to-be-obsolete mail carrier.

Say, mail carrier? Do ya think you could just upload all that crap direct mail right into my spam folder on my Yahoo email account, please? Thanks so much.

Soon people will look at an envelope and not know what to make of it. Our Technology God is making us stupid, to some degree. And, again, I'm cool with that. Whatever makes it easier for me to stay on my couch and watch episodes of "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" on my Apple MacBook Pro.

In many regards, I have to unlearn what I've learned to make way for upgrading my brain. Only to downgrade my living lifestyle. This is to say, as I've pointed out, that our Technology God is becoming more and more abundant and easier to use everyday.

It makes it easy for the stupidest person to learn while still providing them the ability to stay stupid.

Yay!

I worship at the Church of Technology. My God is gadgets and electronics and things that are shiny. Sex and seduction comes in the forms of whatever my Firefox web browser can present to me. I find love from my 42" LCD TV with HD. Mmmmmmm, how I quiver at the sights... errr... sites and sounds made from my laptop.

I think I just had an orgasm.

You know what? This wasn't even going to be what I wanted to write about originally. Now I have to write THAT blog and hope that I don't go off on some other random topic.

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing

Preview of "Mike The Janitor: 37"

2010-02-20T13:24:00.001-07:00

Hello, Alchemy.

2010-01-30T09:53:00.002-07:00

It's been a long while since I set out to make a day of sitting in Alchemy Coffee and blogging my day away. I haven't been in Alchemy to write since October, I think. And, for whatever reason, I haven't been writing anywhere as much as I used to.

It's not that I don't want to or feel like it. I think I just kind of hit a lull wall, of sorts. I started getting wrapped up in other ways to express myself and my zany creativity. Whether it was making videos on YouTube or recording phonecasts via iPadio.com.

I get easily distracted when it comes to being silly in some way, shape or form. Whatever I can do to get my message out there, I'll give it a whirl. The funny thing is that I don't really even have a "message", per se. I just like to share moments or stories from my life and elaborate on them.

If anything, it gives the vast viewing and listening audience on the internet an open door to the world of Mike. I know how much people enjoy peering into the lives of others. We all have a voyeuristic tendencies.

For over a year I came to Alchemy to write, write, write and drink coffee... and write. I'd also do actual productive things like look for work and create my popular website here at www.mikethejanitor.com.

Alchemy Coffee became my home away from home and I became quite a regular here. If I sit here and try to calculate the amount of hours I've spent in this little coffee house, I think it would be safe to say it's close to 800 hours. Probably more.

I base this assumption of time spent sitting here from around October 2008 to October 2009. Last year at this time, I was working for Honey Bucket and making really good money. About that time, I had three days off. Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I'd usually work half a day on Wednesday, too.

During my days off, I would come here to Alchemy and write of my exploits and post pictures. I was constantly telling stories of my adventures at Honey Bucket and things I would encounter during my job of cleaning portable toilets.

I have to admit that I really miss that. I miss Honey Bucket. It was hard, sometimes grueling work. But I was far more respected doing that by my fellow peers and management than what I'm presently suffering at this employer I'm at now. And people that knew me respected me, too. They got a kick out of my Honey Bucket days.

Now I'm just this guy doing a dead-end job that any moron could do. Come to think of it, there are some morons I work with. So I can say that.

There is nothing fascinating about my job. There are no great stories to tell. I work in a warehouse and help run a shipping/receiving department for a local envelope production company. La-dee-freaking-da.

I don't mean to trash my employer. That isn't my point or intention. But it's obvious that this isn't the place for someone like me. And it eats at me every day. However, I put myself in the situation that led to me gaining employment at this company.

At the end of April, 2009, I had walked off the job at Honey Bucket. Things came to a head one morning and I got fed up. My management accused me of something that I didn't do and I quit. That's how strongly I felt.

I quit at the beginning of the unemployment crisis that is still plaguing our nation. I didn't have a plan nor did I have any money saved for a "rainy day". I didn't care, either.

After I quit, I sold off some of my high-end electronics to live and pay rent. During that time, I sat here in Alchemy Coffee browsing the internet looking for work. Not only did I put out resumes for regular, blue-collar jobs but also for radio gigs across the United States.

I interviewed at a few places during the month I was unemployed. I spoke with two radio stations that were interested in bringing me on-board in California and Texas. But the only thing that seemed promising was the interview I had with the employer I'm now at.

The radio gigs never panned out. The various interviews I had done for the blue-collar jobs generated nothing more than rejection letters. The only place that seemed to really like me, ironically, is the place I've come to not really enjoy now.

I've shared this story before but I'll state it again. I wasn't the first choice for this position I now hold. Their actual first selection didn't pass their drug test. Since I came in at a close second with the silver medal, they passed down the gold and I got the job.

Yay.

I must admit that I was pretty damn proud of myself for landing a job in less than a month. Again, this was during the time when the jobless rate was growing increasingly and quickly. I think I was able to land a new job so quickly because I never got down on myself. I was constantly projecting a sense of happiness and confidence.

In my mind I knew that this job was mine and I was going to make it mine. Not because it was something I really wanted to do. But because the hourly wage was as close to what I was making at Honey Bucket when I left. I took this job for the money. Not for the position.

I have to keep reminding myself of that whenever my blood starts boiling there. And, believe me, that happens on an almost daily basis. Hands down, this is one of the worst work environments I've ever been involved in.

But I digress.

So, here I am at my old stomping grounds bitching and moaning on the internet. GO ME! WOOT! It's nice to be back. Some of the other regulars are drifting in and seeing me here in the corner. They've said they're hello's and asked where I've been. It's nice to see them again and make conversation. Yet another reminder of how I've missed this place.

I think I've met my quota of Americanos. I've tossed back FIVE of these highly-caffeinated espresso drinks. And I'm tweeking like a damn meth head. My mind is going a mile a minute. I need to find a rest stop in my tweeking highway mind and pee some of this out. Jesus!

I set out this morning to go and buy some dish soap. But before walking out my door, I changed my mind and decided to come to Alchemy and tap into a part of my life that I haven't visited for a while. I'm glad I changed my mind. I needed the distraction.

I still need to buy the dish soap and some other things for my living space. I can't spend the majority of my day on the internet, you know? There are chores to be done. Fences to mend. Cows to milk. Chickens to feed.

The usual.

I'm going to gobble down some quick lunch here at Alchemy and get back to my weekend grind.

Kisses.

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing

Midvale police officer killed

2010-01-24T19:45:00.005-07:00

There is just one slight problem with my subject line. It's misleading because the "officer" killed wasn't human.

It was a dog.

A police service dog. A dog utilized within the K-9 unit of the Midvale City Police Department.

I had no idea about this story until my mom shared it with me earlier today. It wasn't the tragedy that I'm about to make light of. It was what took place after the fact. This news is fairly old to those here in Utah that watch the news. But it's new to me. Therefore, I had to sound off about it.

But before I go off on a rant that is sure to piss off some, let me make it clear here... I'm not trying to be cruel or inhumane about this terrible incident. I'm just expressing my opinion on something that I feel is completely silly.

The death of the animal is not silly. But the events following the dog's death are. At least, they are to me. Does this make me a bad person? Does it make me a hater of dogs in general? No. I just don't know when to shut my mouth. And, quite frankly, this entire story pisses me off.

To give you an idea of what it is I'm going to bitch about, let me first send you over to my affiliate, Wendy Leonard, of the Deseret News. Here she does a report on the incident that took place that led to the police service dog's death.

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Midvale police dog is slain; man killed

Shootout occurs after what officers say was an attempted burglary

By: Wendy Leonard - Deseret News
Published: Saturday, Jan. 2, 2010 12:26 a.m.

MIDVALE — A man shot and killed a Midvale city police dog Friday night while officers were chasing him and two other men during what police say was an attempted burglary. In the shooting melee, one of the men was shot by police and taken to the hospital with serious injuries and later died, according to Midvale Police Chief Tony Mason.

"Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. It sounded just like firecrackers," said Midvale resident Colton Bain. He and his wife were watching a movie in an apartment, near 6700 South and 625 East, when the shots rang out just before 8:30 p.m. Since it was New Year's Day, Bain thought it wasn't anything out of the ordinary until he heard police shouting orders and saw myriad lights outside his window.

"We could see sparks coming from their guns," he said. "We laid down on the balcony and watched because we didn't want to get shot."

Bain said the area is typically very quiet, aside from freeway traffic running through the area.

Police responded to what was called in to dispatchers as a burglary in progress in the area, and the three men tried to escape over a 20-foot concrete retaining wall onto I-215. Police K-9s were called to the scene, as well as officers from other departments. Late Friday, police weren't sure how many shots were fired, but the area was secured for an overnight investigation.

"It's always a close call," Mason said. "They obviously feared for their lives, and this was what came of it."

The chief said the incident was being treated as an "officer-involved shooting," in which the officers involved will be placed on leave throughout the investigation. The dog's handler was present and, Mason said, "it's obviously very emotional for him." In addition to the Midvale officer and dog, an officer from the Cottonwood Heights Police Department was also on scene when the shooting occurred.

Koda, a Belgian Malinois, had been in service with the Midvale K-9 squad a little over a year but had just finished a second Utah Peace Officer Standards and Training course with a new handler a couple months ago. He was pronounced dead on location.

All three men, including the one taken to the hospital, were in police custody Friday night. Shortly after they fled, they were apprehended in the backyard of a residence. Police closed the road to all traffic while they investigated.

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Okay, so here we have a senseless tragedy. Some douche bag, worthless criminals were up to no good and got caught. They tried to escape and opened fire on the responding police officers. In the process, they shot a police service dog and killed it. Very sad.

Now to follow-up on this story, let's go to Fields Moseley of KUTV Channel 2 and his report on funding for a new police service dog for the Midvale City Police Department. Fields?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks, Mike.

Midvale Police will be able to replace a canine officer shot in the line of duty with money from the Salt Lake County District Attorney's Office.

"He was a very good dog and he did his job that night and saved police officer's lives," said Chief Tony Mason.

Koda was a three year old Belgian malinois. He was shot and killed January 1st while chasing a burglary suspect.

"Just a week before this occurred he had found a pound of marijuana in a car," said Mason of the well-liked dog.

Mason said the department only had two dogs. Kasch is still on duty. Even with donations from the public, there was little hope of replacing Koda.

"With the tough times and the budget cuts, it probably would've been quite a while before we would have been able to come up with some funding to replace Koda," said Mason.

The story might have ended there, but District Attorney, Lohra Miller, was moved by the loss of the canine officer. Her office explored the idea of using money from the Asset Forfeiture Fund.

"It's the attorney's fees we get for taking cases through the court to seize assets from drug dealers and criminals that are using it for illegal purposes," Miller said.

The money has to go to helping prosecute drug cases. Miller and the Salt Lake County Council has spent most of it upgrading computer systems in the District Attorney's offices. The council approved the $10,000 for the dog this week.

Midvale Police will never forget Koda, but another police dog, means his work will continue.

"We have an agreement with all the other surrounding agencies that all the canines on duty come and they all help. They all train together and work together, so that dog won't just be for Midvale. He'll be helping out all over the valley," said Mason.

Platt Electric Supply Company donated $4,000 and a private plane to fly officers back from California next week. They will be there picking out the new dog.

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Okay, before I get to the really juicy part of this blog, let me first invite you to watch a portion of the FUNERAL SERVICES for the fallen police service dog. That's right... I said FUNERAL SERVICES. Let's go to KSL News Channel 5 for that story:

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A private plane? A 10,000 dollar dog? Wouldn't it be cheaper to train some mutt from the mean streets of Salt Lake City? Are you fucking kidding me with this?

I do find it quite poetic that the new police service dog was funded by seized drug money.

I'll tell you what really chaps my hide about this entire thing. The police service dog was given FUNERAL SERVICES fit for a fallen peace officer, firefighter or military personnel. Including a procession and officers in their dress uniforms.

IT WAS A DOG!

I can't begin to describe how angry this makes me. This dog may have been a part of the police force, but it is an animal. Not a human being. A human putting their life on the line everyday in every type of situation is far more worthy of such respect and admiration than a damn dog!

And I'm sure this ridiculous funeral for this DOG cost the taxpayers a pretty penny to put on such a charade. This totally downplays the important role of such emotional events for an actual fallen, HUMAN officer killed in the line of duty.

Yes, this dog was a big part to assisting police officers. But it's not a police officer. It's a trained animal that is used for the EXACT purpose that got it killed. It is there to protect, assist, apprehend and DIE for the safety of it's human handlers and the community it serves.

I can totally appreciate and respect the role of a police service animal.

But being shot and killed "in the line of duty" has no meaning for a dog. Of course, many animal lovers out there would dispute this with me. Actually, many crazed animal lovers out there might even KILL me for having such an opinion as the one I'm presently sharing.

I DO NOT AGREE with a police service dog getting the same kind of treatment, funeral and honor guard that a fallen police officer (or any other type of credible service personnel) would receive. I find it degrading and insulting for the men and women serving their communities that are in far more greater danger everyday than what happened on this fateful night.

Personally, I think all officers should just have a crazed animal to release on anyone that is suspect. That way if the suspect turns out to be dangerous and pulls out a weapon, the animal would be the first to come into harms way saving it's AUTHENTIC human police handler.

Do you know how many dogs you could buy from the Humane Society for 10,000 dollars? I was amazed at that figure when I read it. 10 GRAND for a police service dog? Jesus! Does it speak Spanish for that price tag? Does it get a pension and life insurance? Are they raising and training these service animals at the finest resorts? Are they only fed a diet of the best cuts of beef and drink only the finest Evian water?

I'm not trying to be a dick and downplay the role of a reliable way to curb crime and apprehend criminals but what the hell? I say put the money to purchasing regular ol' mutts (and even cats) from animal shelters for use in active police roles in the field.

If an officer pulls over a couple of individuals in a stolen car, throw a cat pumped up on catnip in the car to claw the suspects in such a way that it throws them off from causing any harm to officers and/or property.

And should a weapon be drawn in the melee, let the cat take the beat-down while providing officers ample time and warning to open fire and kill every last motherfucking criminal in said stolen car.

If we can use animals for testing on a variety of chemicals and pre-market health care drugs, let's start using the nation's growing overpopulation of household pets to subdue criminals!

Is that drunk driver getting a little lippy during a sobriety check? Beat the offending drunk with a feisty ferret! Not only are they long and creepy but they claw, bite and smell! An officer is called out to a scene of domestic battery? Throw an AIDS infested rat in the abuser's pants to really teach that person a lesson!

But should the animal die while doing it's duty, we can save even more of the taxpayers money by dropping the dead animal in a shoebox and burying them in the yard like everyone else.

I suppose this means that this fallen dog is going to wind up with a place on the Fallen Police Officer's Memorial up at the State Capitol, huh? Maybe if we get enough dead animals we can build a whole different memorial in their honor.

Now if we could just put aborted fetuses to use as a way to prevent crime.

-Mike The Janitor
®2010
Millenoma Publishing

Unbalanced load

2010-01-23T11:58:00.004-07:00

You know when you're doing laundry and the rinse cycle comes around on your washing machine? Usually the rinse cycle comes off without a hitch, right? But there are times when the washing machine suffers from an unbalanced load.

This is when the materials you're washing in your washing machine shift from a collective, balanced load in the washing machine tub to one side of the tub. This happens with heavier, thicker items like hoodies, sweaters, blankets and small animals or children.

As I sit here and type my first original blog since November of 2009, my washing machine is suffering an unbalanced load. It is having a total conniption fit and knocking about like it's going to break free from my laundry area and make a run for it.

I'm somewhat entertained by the unbalanced load dance it's presently doing. It's almost as if I have a sole cinder block in there knocking around. I mean, my washing machine is really banging about with a brutal force.

Not only is it shaking like a crazed coffee or meth addict, it's whacking into the side of my dryer. This is adding to the noise level of the unbalanced load taking place 10 feet to my right.

So I have to stop writing, walk over there and see WHAT IN THE HELL all the fuss is about. Except I'm scared of my washing machine right about now. It's flailing about in such a way that it could not only damage my dryer but ME!

Since my washing machine is about waist high (like most washers and dryers), it could very well knock into my junk causing irreversible damage. How would I explain that to emergency room doctors?

DOCTOR: "What happened?"

ME: "My washing machine attacked me!"

DOCTOR: "I see. Where does it hurt?"

ME: "MY JUNK! IT HIT ME IN THE JUNK! THE SON-OF-A-BITCH DID A LOW BLOW, CHEAP SHOT!"

DOCTOR: "And your washing machine did this?"

ME: "YES! And it smacked around my dryer, too! I wanna press charges!"

DOCTOR: "Let me give you an examination and I'll have the authorities come in here and take a statement. How's that?"

ME: "HELL YEAH! *sniffle*"

After a thorough examination, the doctor informs me that I'll be fine and my sexual performance should not be effected. He then sends in a detective from the Salt Lake City Police Department.

DETECTIVE: "I know this is hard for you, but can you describe your assailant?"

ME: "*sniffle* Yes, it was a standard looking washing machine. It's in classic appliance white with one large control knob for various wash cycles. A smaller knob for water level control and several buttons for different water temperatures."

DETECTIVE: "Can you describe the incident and how you came to be assaulted?"

ME: "I was just doing some laundry. My washing machine has never acted out this way before! *sniffle* I was washing some sheets, a hoodie, some t-shirts and a couple of towels! *sniffle*"

DETECTIVE: "Everything is going to be fine. Just take a deep breath and try to continue, ok?"

ME: "Yes, *sniffle* ok."

DETECTIVE: "I want you to look through these mug shots of washing machines we have on file. Is there one in here that looks like the model that assaulted you?"

ME: *starts leafing through a binder full of washing machine pictures* "Geee, I don't know. It all happened so fast. I'm not sure I could identify the right machine... these all look the same... WAIT! OH MY GOD! THIS ONE! THIS IS THE ONE THAT PUNCHED MY JUNK!"

DETECTIVE: "Ahhhhhh, yes. The Whirlpool Heavy Duty Super Capacity PLUS. This one has a history of laundry cleaning problems that we've picked it up for numerous times. If you feed it just a little too much laundry detergent and heavier cotton items, it gets belligerent quickly."

ME: "It's had issues of abuse in the past?"

DETECTIVE: "I'm afraid so. Does your washing machine have a dryer mate?"

ME: "Yes. Yes it does."

DETECTIVE: "A MATCHING dryer mate?"

ME: "Yes. It was also slapped about in this incident. But it didn't want to get check out nor did it want to come forward."

DETECTIVE: "This is very common with matching washer and dryer sets, sir. Many washing machines have a laundry issue. Such as an unbalanced load that causes the unit to jerk, jolt, bang and wiggle loudly and, sometimes, violently. In cases where a washing machine doesn't have a matching mate, for instance a Whirlpool washer and a Maytag dryer, the dryer will sometimes come forward because it has no matching allegiance to the assaulting washing machine. But, not to blame the victim here, such assaults can be avoided by making sure you have a suitable, balanced load that isn't over capacity."

ME: "OH! SO IT'S MY FAULT THAT THE WASHING MACHINE COULDN'T TAKE MY GIRTHY, MANLY LOAD! NOW YOU'RE MAKING MY WASHING MACHINE THE VICTIM HERE AND NOT MY TENDER, SWOLLEN BALLS! SCREW YOU, COPPER!"

DETECTIVE: "Sir, please calm down. I wasn't trying to judge or take sides. But we've come to find through these types of investigations that the operator of the washing machine just wasn't following the instructions on how to handle a washing machine. Has an incident like this happened before?"

ME: "Well, yeah. There have been a couple of instances where the washing machine rocked about a bit and then returned to normal on it's own. This time was different because it got really out of hand. I approached the washing machine to push the control knob and make it stop during the rinse cycle in mid-spin. But before I could do that, it pounded me in the nuts and slapped the dryer numerous times before I could stop it. IT WAS HORRIBLE! *sniffle*"

DETECTIVE: "I realize that this is going to be difficult for you to hear. And probably embarrassing since having to come to the emergency room after being assaulted by your washing machine. But I just don't see a worthwhile case here."

ME: "WHAT?! The damn thing lunged at me and hit my twig and berries! Not too mention that it was knocking around my dryer for a bit before I went to investigate the problem! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!"

DETECTIVE: "Nor can I believe that you've played out this entire incident in written form in a blog. I mean, REALLY?"

ME: "Well, it seemed really funny at the time."

DETECTIVE: "And now?"

ME: "Not so much."

I could just start this blog over with new subject matter but I won't. I'm just too lazy to go over and highlight all this text and click delete.

While that entire event was playing out in my mind and then running through my fingers into this blog, I came to find out that it was my fault that my washing machine was shaking like Michael J. Fox.

I had to keep adjusting the load I was washing to keep my washing machine from knocking about because the load was, in fact, heavier on one side that the other. I'm in the process of laundering a heavy hoodie that I wear at work. That was a wet, bundled mess on one side of the washing machine tub.

The other materials like my sheets, pillow cases and a couple of t-shirts were slapped up against the opposite side of the washing machine tub. The combined weight from the sheets and whatnot was far heavier than the weight of the hoodie.

The two opposing forces on either side of the washing machine tub made for a huge racket as my washing machine contorted about until I finally got up off of my ass here and went to make it stop. Jesus!

Aside from doing a little bit of laundry, I'm also trying to clean up my place and do some dishes. I can only use on sink full of dish water since I've run out of dish soap. I'd use some laundry soap but I'm afraid it'll cause my dishes to become unbalanced in their wash cycle and break.

Man, that was a stretch for a joke. And a bad one at that. Even I groaned at it.

Basically, I'm just waiting around and being lazy until I find the time is suitable for me to start drinking. But since I'm so broke that I can't afford dish soap, this also causes an issue for beer money.

Luckily, I still have a little bit of red wine and some vodka and some orange juice to tide me over and bring on a nice haze of tipsy to full-out drunk. But mixing the two could be a very bad combination because you should never mix your liquors.

I have to admit that I've been in a bit of a funk. But this is what happens when you're neurotic and bi-polar like me. I'm trying to not let it get my spirits down but it sure as hell seems to be happening anyway. DAMN IT!

Also, I don't feel all to well. I have some kind of pinched nerve under my left ear that is now radiating to the left of my upper back. It makes moving my head very unpleasant.

Add that to my continuing enlarged prostate issue and I'm a cornucopia of uncomfortable, dull pain. HELLO MID-30's! This is awesome to be a potential candidate for the medication known as FlowMax.

I learned more about the prostate back in October of 2009 when my doctor informed me that the troubles I was having were due to an enlarged prostate. He discovered this by giving me a rectal examination by putting his finger in my butt and feeling around.

To give you an idea of what the prostate is and how an enlarged prostate occurs, check out this informative video from the FlowMax website:

Your prostate and you: a look at BPH

Now, I'm not on FlowMax or any type of prescribed medication. I will say that when I saw the doctor back in October, he prescribed these giant horse pills and muscle relaxants that I had to take twice a day for 28 days. They were very effective and made me feel great! Especially the muscle relaxants.

However, when the medication ran out, I started to experience slightly worse pain than before I went to the doctor. After a couple of weeks, all of that disappeared and I had been feeling pretty okay.

But about a week ago, the pains that had been associated with my enlarged prostate came back around. Therefore, I need to go back to the doctor and probably get another finger in the butt, again. I might request a referral to a specialist and get some tests done, too. Since I have insurance, I might as well use it, right?

Getting old sucks. I'm going to be 37 years old in less than a month. WOOT! Do you know that the other day while I was at work I smelled the STRONG scent of burnt toast? I did. I thought I was about to have a stroke! I heard or read somewhere that some people who have suffered a stroke smelled burnt toast. Turns out, it was actually burnt toast because other people I work with smelled it, too. I just never found out where the smell originated from.

I have to get back to cleaning and drying that unbalanced load that started this entire rant of a blog. I've have more writings on the way so stay tuned.

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing

Phlogging

2010-01-06T16:19:00.001-07:00

This is not to be confused with "flogging". Like flogging a baby seal. Or the band "Flogging Molly". "Phlogging" is a concept that was introduced to me earlier today. It stands for "phone logging". Or "phlog", for short. This idea is ingenious and fantastic.

You call into an 800 number, enter a pin dedicated to your phlog and record yourself to be posted instantly on the internet. BRILLIANT! I discovered this through a site called "iPadio". You can go phlog yourself (ha ha ha... "go phlog yourself"... I made a funny) at: www.ipadio.com

My thanks to my longtime radio colleague and friend, Mike Stalker, for introducing me to such a thing. And to the team at iPadio for coming up with and creating such a cool idea.

-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Productions & Publishing

DIRECTIVE NINE!

2010-01-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

"DIRECTIVE NINE!" is not to be confused with the hit summer blockbuster of 2009 known as "District 9". "DIRECTIVE NINE!" (Yes, it must be typed in ALL CAPS complete with the exclamation point) was a series of "life goals" I made for myself at the beginning of 2009. I was so set on these "life goals" that I made an official list.

I call them "life goals" because I wanted to be apart from the herd of the "New Year's Resolutions" crowd. I wanted my list to mean something and be such a grand list that it came off more like a series of "life goals" within a "directive" type of plan. Does any of that make any sense?

Who cares.

For several weeks on MySpace t the beginning of 2009 (and you can research this for yourself), I was announcing that I had made a list of "life goals" in a secret document known as "DIRECTIVE NINE!" For those of you that have been longtime readers and fans of my blogs, you know this to be true.

For those of you that haven't been readers and fans... WOULD YOU GET ON THE BUS, ALREADY?! Jesus.

Anyway, I made the proclamation then that I would give full disclosure of "DIRECTIVE NINE!" on January 1st, 2010.

Well, guess what?

The time has come for me to unseal the top secret document known as "DIRECTIVE NINE!" and unleash it to the reading audience. Not only will I display "DIRECTIVE NINE!" here, but I will be writing a separate blog talking about each "life goal" and what its status is in my life today.

Here for you now is the series of "life goals" I made for myself on January 1st, 2009. A transcript of this can be supplied to you for a small fee of $10,000 dollars U.S.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DIRECTIVE NINE!
CLASSIFIED: FOR EYES ONLY
01/01/2009

The following information has been created by and is only to be shared with YOU, Mike R. Millen. If, by January 1st, 2010, items on this list have not been completed or accomplished, you may release said information to the general public.

This list is to work in conjunction with other previously written and/or posted "life goals" made on or before January 1st, 2009. Good luck with your quest, Mike.

DIRECTIVE NINE!

*Try to gain full-time and well paid employment back in radio broadcasting. If a part-time position should become available to you here in Salt Lake, take it. Get your foot back in the door.

DIRECTIVE NINE.2!

*Invest time and effort into finding a serious, long-term relationship with a suitable partner of the opposite sex.

DIRECTIVE NINE.3!

*Should a relationship be accomplished before the end of 2009, seriously consider marriage and children. Don't let the opportunity pass you by if you feel it in your gut. You've missed the boat on this point several times in your past. Time to man up and stop fucking around. You're not 21 anymore.

DIRECTIVE NINE.4!

*Invest time, effort and money into publishing a book. Even if it's self-published, Mike. Also, invest time and effort in sending previously written material out to newspapers and magazines for possible freelance work. Perhaps even consider writing professionally.

DIRECTIVE NINE.5!

*Invest time, effort and money into creating your image via the Internet via a website and podcasts. Share yourself outside of the written form as a continuing way to entertain the masses. This has always been your calling and you know it. If you can't obtain a full-time radio gig (as previously outlined in "DIRECTIVE NINE!"), go after your talent, creativity and dream by utilizing it in an Internet based forum.

DIRECTIVE NINE.6!

*Invest better time, effort and money in your mom. Help her get a better car, a water heater and a new furnace. Investigate further on how to help her fix up her home with little or no cost to her. There has to be a way. FIND IT!

DIRECTIVE NINE.7!

*Try not to get discouraged. Try not to get angry. Try to be a better person for you and everyone around you. You know (as well as everybody else) that you live by the environment you create. If it's negative, you'll live negatively. It it's positive, you'll live positively. It all starts with you, Mike. Now put a smile on your face and make it happen. Don't just say you're going to do it, JUST DO IT!

END OF DOCUMENT

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-Mike The Janitor
©2010
Millenoma Publishing

European Shoulder Bag

2009-12-15T09:37:00.000-07:00

*I’d like to note that this blog was written several weeks ago. I never got around to posting it.* - Mike The Janitor

I like to drink. I really do. I do it alone, most of the time. It’s probably better that way since I can be erratic and emotional. Not to where I’m a violent drunk, mind you. But more of a person that shuts down and gets lost in a sea of memories, turmoil and regret.

Generally, this doesn’t happen when I drink with others. Actually, it NEVER happens in the presence of others. When I’m with people, I’m a fun drunk. A “class clown” kind of drunk. At least, I think so. These emotional fits I speak of only occur when I drink alone. Which is 90% of the time. Like now, for instance.

I’ll openly admit that I’m working on my fourth screwdriver. And when I make a screwdriver, it’s more vodka than anything else. At the rate I’m pounding these things, I might as well get a straw and drink straight from the bottle. And I’m doing this on a Sunday night, no less. I have to be to work at 6:00 AM tomorrow.

So what? I’m hardcore like that. Bring on the booze, yo!

But doing vodka shots is a hard thing for me to pull off without gagging. Come to think of it, ANY shot of liquor is hard for me to pull off since the Great Puking Incident of 1998. I can still do shots. But any hard liquor going down the ol’ chute reminds me of a time when it all came back up. Some shots have that effect on me far worse than others.

But I digress.

On Friday afternoon, I went to the liquor store for one thing and one thing only... VODKA. I love a good screwdriver. However, an incident occurred that killed my buzz. Sadly, I wasn’t even drunk when it happened. Had I been intoxicated, I think I wouldn’t have even given the incident another thought.

Hell, with my luck, I would have been arrested for a D.U.I. or public intoxication or something of that nature before even getting to the liquor store. As it stands. I was completely sober when I decided to open my mouth.

In the back of my mind I was telling myself to just shut up and let it go. And I came pretty close to succeeding. But my “smart-ass” gene kicked in and I went full boar with my anger. Anger that led me to hold my bottle of vodka in a way that was strictly meant to knock someone over the head with it.

I know, shocking, right? I thought so, too. But I can’t deny the thought crossed my mind of using my 750ml bottle of vodka as a weapon to lay down the law with some coked out douche bag.

What could have turned out to be a full-on brawl started out with a traffic incident.
I was heading to my local state owned liquor store just before 5:00 PM this past Friday. My intention was to get some vodka and then head out to Big Lots and Family Dollar to pick up some items for my apartment. After which, I’d head over to my local grocery store and get some orange juice for previously purchased vodka and drink the rest of my Friday evening away into oblivion.

On my drive to the liquor store, I was abruptly cut off by someone driving a Volvo S70 sedan. They pulled right out in front of me after pulling out from a local shop. But I didn’t honk nor swear. I just breathed a heavy sigh and let it roll off my back.

I proceeded to follow this Volvo as I made my way to the liquor store. Then, quite suddenly, the Volvo stopped in the middle of the road as it appeared to be making a right hand turn down the same I road I was going to make a right hand turn on to get to the liquor store.

This time I honked.

A lot.

I also swore in the confines of my car while flipping off this Volvo driving douche bag for stopping instead of continuing on with their right hand turn. That’s when I realized it wasn’t necessarily the Volvo driver’s fault. But, rather, the person driving the opposite direction that turned in front of the Volvo.

As I quickly surveyed what was going on after blowing my horn numerous times and throwing a tantrum behind the wheel of my pimp 1990 Buick Century, I saw a Toyota Land Cruiser coming from the opposite lanes of travel abruptly turn left in front of the Volvo in front of me.

The asshole in the Land Cruiser just went for it. The dumb fuck turned left in front of both lanes of southbound traffic cutting us all off and not thinking twice about it. I honked thinking that the Volvo had already cut me off once and deserved it. I was of the opinion that the people in the Volvo were not only bad drivers but clearly lost and causing traffic problems behind them while they tried to figure out their destination.

I would have even gone as far as to call them tourists but they had Utah license plates on their precious Volvo sedan.

Once I honed in on the Land Cruiser, I turned my road rage onto the fucker driving that land yacht. As it turns out, he too, was going to the liquor store. And so was the driver of the Volvo in front of me whom I had just honked and swore at.

Awesome.

But I no longer cared about the bad driver of the Volvo. I wanted the head of the Toyota Land Cruiser. As we all pulled into the PACKED parking lot of the liquor store (this is one of the busiest liquor stores in Utah, I swear!), I watched where the Toyota Land Cruiser parked. I then parked my own car not too far away as a space became free from someone leaving.

As I got out of my car, I kept my gaze upon the Land Cruiser. I wanted to see the motherfucker who had such balls as to cut off TWO heavy flowing lanes of traffic to get to the liquor store.

And when I saw him, I made a sinister face of contempt that would befit a dramatic role or horror movie. And what made my anger towards this fucker more fueled was the fact that he was wearing (or carrying, I should say) what some in the fashion industry call a “European Shoulder Bag”.

Or, MALE PURSE.

I think I would have had just as much contempt for this blue-ribbon-beef cocksucker had he been wearing a goddamn fanny pack and muscle shirt.

I locked on my target and gave the best death stare I could muster. I locked on this guy and walked straight at him. I never broke my gaze upon him, either. I said everything I needed to say with my look alone. This piss ant knew when he saw me that I was the guy about to make things real unpleasant.

Oddly enough, I wound up right behind him and his date/friend/girlfriend as we all walked into the liquor store. What’s interesting is that I was well aware that he knew he had fucking cut me and the Volvo (and everyone else) off while driving into the liquor store parking lot.

I know this because he kept looking at me looking at him. He knew I was death staring him down because of his inability to drive a motor vehicle correctly. I also know that he knew that I knew he was a fucking bad driver because of the conversation he was having with the young woman he was with while we walked inside the liquor store.

Their conversation was about near-miss traffic accidents that each one had encountered at one time or another. But all I could do was stare, stare, STARE as this fuckstick and his goddamn man-purse.

I stared at him all through the store until I had to divert my eyes to the selection of vodka that lay before me. Once I made my selection of vodka, my rage melted into the bottle of booze I’d soon be consuming to wash my troubles away.

Until...

This same asshole cut me off IN LINE!

Oh no you didn’t.

Oh no, no, no... you did NOT just do that.

Oh, why yes he did.

While I was in line, I turned around momentarily to look at an end cap of flavorful flavored liquors that were on sale. I was debating on grabbing a bottle of Apple Pucker when I decided against it. When I turned around... TA-DA!

Guess who?

I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes. I breathed in a way that you can only breathe when you’re trying to calm yourself down from a building rage. I squinted my eyes at the back of this dick’s head and told myself to take it easy. Just let it go and don’t worry about it.

Just breathe.

You’ll be out of here in no time, Mike. No worries. Fuck this guy.

I started to feel very Zen as I talked myself out of causing a scene.

But then...

“Why are we all standing in this one line? Why are we standing here? Would you look at that guy up there?! He’s holding this whole line up? There’s three cashiers! What’s going on?”

These were some of the sentences uttered by the “King of Cut Off’s” as he tried to figure out the line in the liquor store. Which, I will admit, was very long. But everyone else was waiting patiently much like myself.

European Shoulder Bag continued his tirade in front of me while I tried to hold my breath.

“Shit like this pisses me off, ya know? (He’s directing his comments to the girl he is with) Why is it that everyone has formed this line and can’t choose for themselves? I’m going up there right now. Fuck this ‘one line’ shit.”

And with that, I opened my mouth very angrily but quietly.

“Yes, good for you, sir. You should do that. Why don’t you cut off this entire line with your impatience like you do while you’re driving.”

“Really? Who? That guy cut you off while driving?”
“Don’t be coy with me, asshole. I’m talking about you and your inability to be patient or respectful to others around you.”

“Excuse me? What? What are you saying? Do I know you? What is this all about? Are you for real?”

“Do I look fake to you, sir? Do I sound like a figment of your imagination? I assure you I’m very real and I’m very angry.”

Now, keep in mind, this conversation is fairly low key and somewhat in hushed tones. But male-purse douche gets agitated at this point and decides to raise his voice.

“Who the fuck are you?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?! I cut him off? I cut you off? What the fuck?! Life is too short, man. Life is too short to be so petty. Life is too short! Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?”

“I’m the guy who you cut off outside this liquor store a few minutes ago. Actually, it wasn’t just me, but the person driving the Volvo in front of me. And not even THAT person but the two lanes of southbound traffic you pulled in front of to get in the parking lot, you inconsiderate fuck.”

“What Volvo? What are you talking about? You come at me with this in here? Jesus Christ! Life is too short to give a shit, man!” 
“This coming from a European Shoulder Bag carrying dick who almost caused a serious accident to get to the liquor store a few seconds quicker.”

“Man, how old are you? Really? I mean, REALLY? Did you lose a fight or something tonight? Huh?”

“Oh no. But I assure you I’m more than willing to get in one.”

It was at this point that I felt my hand reversing the way I was holding my vodka bottle so that, instead of gripping it by the neck, I had turned the bottle upside down to hold it very much like a blunt object. Like a bat.

What’s even more scary is that I had every ounce of my being wanting to knock this guy across the head with it. When that thought popped in my head (and I wasn’t even drunk), I knew I was about to cross a line that would be with me forever. I also realized that it was disturbing I was feeling this way.

He continued to berate me loudly for being so overly critical of him and his poor driving habits. He kept saying that “life is too short” to be such an ass and confrontational. I finished up my end of the conversation with:

“Yeah, whatever, man. All I’m hearing is ‘blah, blah, blah’ and you not manning up to being a douche bag driver and apologizing so I’ll just leave it at that. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

“Yeah?! You should be sorry. You should be sorry, man! What the hell?! I mean, really, how old are you? Seriously?!”

All I could do was stare at him. I just shut my mouth, eased my grip on my vodka and stared at him. He finished his side of the word fight by turning his back on me (with the assistance of the girl he was with because she could see the tension coming from my side of things) and mumbling under his breath that I was “childish” and “immature” and that this country “was going down the toilet because of people like me”.

The redeeming thing about this entire situation was the girl he was with.

When he turned his back on me and continued to bitch and moan about the confrontation, the girl changed the subject and got him on a different topic of conversation.

Well played.

As the line started to move, she turned around and looked right at me. She mouthed “I’m SO sorry” while pointing her thumb and rolling her eyes at the European Shoulder Bag ass-hat she was with.

But she wasn’t quite quick enough to pull that off and he caught a glimpse of her looking back at me. It was all I could do but laugh at her reaction to the whole situation because I knew, right then and there, she totally agreed with my argument and probably even yelled at him in his fucking Land Cruiser for the stupid stunt he pulled on the street outside that caused the whole mess to begin with.

When he caught her looking at me, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. So he turned his doubt into more anger towards me and said:

“What? Did he say something to you? What the hell, man? Now you gotta pick on her, too?!”

She immediately told him I had done nothing while I laughed at the back of his head. She had to hold onto his windbreaker to keep him from turning around again. I walked around them to get to the next available cashier. I bought my vodka and left. I never looked at them again.

But as I did my shopping, I did think about them and the situation. Once the anger and testosterone rush subsided, I felt embarrassed and bad for my actions. I felt more awful when I realized I was about to cross a bridge of simple arguing to a full scale assault.

For the briefest of moments, I was ready to clunk that dummy across the skull with a weighty vodka bottle. Why? What the hell is happening to me? Is this normal? How stressed am I? What’s wrong? How far gone am I mentally? Is this early signs of me turning into a total crazy person? Jesus Christ.

As much as I hate to admit this, had this happened while I was drunk or slightly intoxicated, I’d have something to blame it on. I could use the excuse that the booze clouded my judgment.

But I can’t say that. And I’m glad I can’t say that. I happy to report that, as I pointed out earlier, I was completely sober when I instigated this situation. I knew I just needed to keep my mouth shut because the guy I was dealing with was showing signs of drug use. He was really wired and chatty and in such a hurry for no apparent reason. This is indicative of people on meth, speed or cocaine.

My guess was he was on cocaine. I’ve been around people using coke and they show this exact behavior. I saw the warning signs yet I still chose to initiate an argument with someone who I knew had total disregard and just didn’t give a shit.

He cut off traffic, he cut me off in line and even cut me off while trying to one-up me in the argument. People who become defensive and know they are in the wrong like to raise their voices. My communication with him always had the same normal, speaking tone. He never got me to raise my voice.

In the end, I won. But, ultimately, he beat me because I gave in and started down a path I didn’t need to in the first place. And I feel really shameful because of it. There was nothing to accomplish with what I set out to do. I just wanted to lash out at him and let him know he was a douche bag. End of story.

But what was I trying to accomplish, exactly? Was I wanting to whip out my cock of superiority and publicly belittle the guy? Well, YEAH! But then what? How does this action benefit the greater good? How does it reflect on me as a person? As a human being?

You know, as you get older, you really start to think and analyze shit like this. I have to smirk to myself because no matter how coked out the guy appeared to be, he was right. How old am I?

I do know that I can take solace in the fact that the behavior he displayed will come back to bite him in the ass (and tear the gay-ass European Shoulder Bag from his person) in the form of karma.

Karma works every time. I should know, it’s worked FOR me and ON me. Both good and bad. Mostly bad.

-Mike The Janitor
©2009
Millenoma Publishing

The Blackest of Fridays

2009-11-27T07:42:00.000-07:00

For most people, the day after Thanksgiving is a time of celebration. Not Thanksgiving itself. A time where families come together and wait for hours for some box store chain to open. A time for great deals and huge sales within the confines of those box store chains.

I think people spend more time waiting for Black Friday than they do the day before it. Do you know why we eat so much on Thanksgiving? So we're good and full when we wander from our homes and go shopping at 4:00 AM.

I say that retailers live up to the name of "Black Friday" and reverse the logic. Instead of super buys today, why not jack up the prices to an obscene amount so that NO ONE comes out to buy your shit? That way you can stay closed and families can stay at home with one another and enjoy each others' company.

Better yet, offer these wonderful bargains EVERY DAY so that we don't come off like a bunch of savage sheep breaking down doors and killing one another over crap that we don't really need.

Black Friday makes me angry because it's a constant reminder of what I could have got for a real cheap price had I not already owned it. Goddammit. They should just give out Black Friday rain checks. Whether the item is in stock or not, just give me a damn slip saying that I can get the same low price when I come back to shop in June, how's that?

Black Friday. What a bunch of horseshit.

Wow, I sound bitter.

Maybe because I'm broke.

If I had the vast amounts of cash, I wouldn't mind fighting the traffic, the crazed shoppers, the long lines, the out-of-stock items, the crying/screaming children, the "batteries not included"...

Wait, wait, wait...

You see? That's all it took. All it took was me reminding myself of what it's like out there *points out front window* right now. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I'm not out there. A big ol' sigh of relief that also oozes a "Thank GOD!" with an accompanying eye roll.

I'm living large this Black Friday in the warmth of my little apartment in Sugarhouse/Salt Lake. I'm basking in the peace and quiet of my cozy home whilst enjoying a freshly brewed cup of Starbucks French Roast coffee. Mmmmmmmm, that's good to the last drop right there.

Although, I must admit, embellishing what I'm missing is kind of making me miss it, in a way. It makes me somewhat lonely. I think Black Friday would be far more better if it were done with a partner in crime. A cohort. A significant other that can create just as much fun out of the chaos than I could.

You know what I would do? I would find the last of a popular item and grab it. I would work up a plan for my partner in crime to come up at the right time and try and get the item from me by offering me cash up front. But not before I was already in a bidding war with some other nutcase shopper wanting the last of the very item I hold.

Eventually, I'd make money off of said item (that I didn't even want in the first place) by selling it IN A STORE for PROFIT and CASH to the person wanting it because I happen to have the last one. Then I'd have cash money to go to the one place worth shopping at... the liquor store.

Okay, that was a total, random daydream in full effect. It's interesting how I've just tied together Black Friday with being alone with being involved within my own daydream that winds up at the liquor store. Nice work, Mike. You've got issues.

Well, no shit.

My original plan for Black Friday was to hang out at Starbucks and play on the internet ALL DAY while watching people come and go. I've done this very thing during Black Fridays of years past. It's really entertaining. Plus, you meet some nice people who just stop to talk and take a break from their significant others' spending the mortgage money on a new, low priced LCD TV.

I was going to do this year's Black Friday coffee drinking and blog writing at the Starbucks on 2100 South and 700 East. This is a very popular Starbucks since it's right at the core of two major roads that link to a variety of stores in the area. Plus, it also features some of the hottest women getting their coffee at this location.

Another good Starbucks for slobbering all over yourself looking at sexy ass is the Starbucks on 400 South off of 700 East. This one is good because of the University of Utah college ladies. For a fine selection of white trash and soccer mom ass watching, the Starbucks on 5600 West just off of 3100 South is great! I should know, I used to hang out there A LOT.

Now that I think about it, Utah does have some of the hottest women on the planet. However, a lot of the women are cut from the same cloth and look the same, ya know? Many of them just have that look of Mormon about them with cute straight smiles, blond hair, blue eyes and perky attitudes.

It's the Village of the Really Hot Damned.

Regardless, still hot. But if you want an exotic mix of the loveliest, prettiest, sexiest and hottest women wandering about, try the Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix, Arizona. Another good one is the McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. Every time I have a layover in Phoenix, I'm boarding my next flight with an erection.

I was once asked to take to bulging luggage hidden in my pants out and place it in one of the overhead bins. When I explained to the flight attendant that it was just a visible erection, she asked me to extinguish it because there is no smoking on commercial flights.

*drum roll, cymbal crash* THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

Okay, that was just damn funny. I guess the coffee is finally kicking in.

My point about all of this is that I now have internet at home and I don't really ever need to leave my house. No more going to Alchemy Coffee. No more going to Starbucks Coffee. Instead, I can be a happy shut-in thanks to Cricket Wireless.

And therein lies the irony about this whole thing.

For those of you that follow my blogs, you know that I vowed NEVER to go back to Cricket Wireless again. I got so angry at that company that when a competitor popped up, I immediately switched to their service. I was so happy to see Cricket getting some legitimate competition.

Back in March or April, I switched to Boost Mobile. Boost had been making a huge advertising push promoting their service and features for a mere 50 bucks a month. No hidden fees. No contracts. They offered the same service and features plus MORE than what I was getting from Cricket. Plus, the fact that Boost is a sub-division of Sprint, I figured I couldn't go wrong. ANYTHING had to be better than what I was suffering at Cricket.

But I have to point out that it wasn't the service of Cricket I had a problem with. Well, it was in the end. But overall, it wasn't. It was the poor CUSTOMER service that was the last straw for me. Last year at this same time, I had invested in this new USB broadband thing that Cricket had launched. I was exactly what I needed and wanted.

To make a long story short, it didn't work. And I was treated so poorly by numerous customer service reps (in person and on the phone) that I just couldn't take it any more and had to be done with Cricket once and for all. And I had been a customer since 2002. Blogging about it now still reminds me of how pissed I was. That's how bitter I had become towards Cricket.

But...

I've come to realize that all cell phone companies are shit. They all have their good points and bad points. My good friend Tim Rainey said it best: "They all suck". That they do. But if I can find a happy ground and find suitable things that are good to take with the bad, I'll consider it. I'm all about trying to weight the options.

I went back to Cricket for two reasons.

1:) Boost Mobile has some of the worst coverage and cell phone service I've ever dealt with. Although when I went to San Diego this summer to see my buddy, Bill, I had no issues in making calls and sending texts. It worked like a dream.

However, here in my home calling area (especially IN MY HOME), I'm constantly losing calls and reception during calls. My text/picture messages don't seem to get where they're going. When they do get to the person I'm sending it to, it's almost a DAY later. It's sometimes the same when I receive text messages. My service also doesn't work with Twitter, I've come to find out. And God knows I need THAT! *rolls eyes*.

Boost Mobile does have very friendly customer service. I've had to call a couple of times with some issues and they couldn't be nicer. I also love their commercials which make me laugh. That's one of the big reasons I switched in the first place. If you haven't seen the commercial featuring two pigs eating a ham, Google it.

2:) Boost Mobile doesn't offer any type of external internet connection for your home/business. You do get mobile web via your phone included as part of the $50.00 unlimited fee. But since I just have a standard flip phone, using the internet on my phone doesn't interest me.

Even if I had a super-duper phone with all the bells & whistles and fold out screen or touch screen or whatever, I wouldn't care too much for it. I have a computer and want to use THIS for my internet usage. Not a tiny phone.

Because of these two issues (which are big selling points for me), I made the switch back to Cricket Wireless. This also meant I had to get ANOTHER new phone number. (This is like the 10th number I've had this year) And what sucks about that is that it's a (435) area code. I'm an (801) girl all the way. I might go into my local Cricket store and change the number just to get an (801) area code.

A selling point for Boost Mobile on this issue is that they don't charge you for a number change. Cricket Wireless does to the tune of $15.00. And the fact that I seem to change my number more than I do girlfriends, that can really add up.

With my switching back, I decided to also get a new phone. I didn't get anything fancy, mind you. I just bought some no-name flip phone. It's actually pretty nice for being so cheap. I also ordered the USB broadband, again. I did every thing online, too. I saved a bundle doing it this way. Plus, I still get a $50.00 rebate for my purchases when I mail in the information that came with my online order.

I dreaded ordering the USB broadband, cyber friends and readers. I really did. It was such a nightmare the last time that it took every ounce of my being to regain any faith and try it again. But my mom brought up an excellent point. She observed that now that I have a brand new computer, perhaps it would work this time around.

And you know what? She was right.

I placed my order early last Saturday morning with a salesperson named Christy using the LiveChat feature on the Cricket Wireless website. She answered all my questions and addressed my concerns. I took the plunge and ordered service, the new phone and the new USB broadband stick.

By Monday afternoon, I had my new phone and USB broadband stick. I had it sent to my work as to avoid any issues with it somehow disappearing. It arrived FedEx and I couldn't wait to get it home and give it a whirl.

I followed the simple instructions for the broadband and plugged it in. Within minutes, I was right here... on the internet... from the privacy of my couch. I was so elated with glee that I think I almost cried.

Then I activated and tried out my new phone. It, too, worked like a dream.

So far, Cricket has redeemed itself.

Well, except for that (435) area code bullshit. I could spin that and use it to my advantage by claiming I live in Park City. Whatever the case, I can now get back into the full swing of things by blogging my little heart out. No more having to pack up my crap and haul it to a coffee house or library. I have the freedom to sit and type, type, type right here and surf the WWW Sea at my leisure.

My Black Friday is a Happy Friday.

-Mike The Janitor
©2009
Millenoma Publishing

Friday The 13th: Attack Of The Killer Window Film

2009-11-15T09:12:00.000-07:00

Sounds like a title to a most excellent B-movie, right? A fun and wild slasher/scare picture loaded with bad acting, continuity and gaffe issues. A movie that is sure to win at least one 2010 Razzie Award. Most likely (and hopefully) the worst movie of 2010.

This scary tale starts in a simple envelope production plant. As we fade in and push into our location, we drift over to the warehouse portion of this manufacturing plant. We come upon a lone man operating a forklift and pulling bulk materials needed for the production floor.

Then, quite suddenly, there is a loud sound of a crack/snap that could only resemble wood splintering apart. Startled, the lone man on the warehouse floor looks up to find...

*cue dramatic stager*

ATTACK OF THE KILLER WINDOW FILM!

OH MY GOD! RUN RUN RUN!!!!!!

But first, lets look at the back story as to what in the hell I’m talking about here.

There are a variety of materials that fall under the control of the warehouse peeps at my place of employment. And since I’m a “warehouse peep”, I rule such materials with an iron fist! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Okay, Mike, chill out.

Aside from storing customer envelopes and bulk envelopes in our warehouse, we have just about everything in our department to produce envelopes. There is paper stock, glue, ink and window film.

What is window film?

Window film is the very thin, see-through layer of plastic that you see with your standard window envelope. Ever get an envelope, say like a bill, where your name and address is visible through a small “window” in the bottom right corner of the envelope? In most cases, that window has window film.

Some companies just have the window and no film covering the window hole in the envelope. This makes your mail far more susceptible to cold and flu season. And you sure as hell don’t want to get mail that is coming down with something that it gained on it’s travels to your mailbox, do you?

That’s why you should demand from all places that send you mail to make sure that their envelopes with windows are protected by window film.

The window film also adds protection from envelopes trying to get it on with one another while in transit. The last thing you need is to be opening up your mailbox only to find that a couple of envelopes had unprotected sex and made baby envelopes.

Nothing like a 10x13 window catalog envelope with your 2010 insurance information showing up after being violated by a standard, non-window #10 envelope.

You pop open that mailbox and the 10x13 has given birth to a shitload of 6x9’s! Now you have to find something in which to accommodate all those baby envelopes. Luckily, since it is the Christmas holidays, mail out some greeting cards and whatnot.

Maybe a thank you card to your favorite blogger here?

Anyway...

The window film comes to us on big rolls contained in big boxes. They are stacked in rows of four about nine high. Usually each box contains 36 rolls of window film. The window film comes in different sizes, too. 6”, 5.75”, 5.50”, 5.25” and so on. The largest we carry is nine inches and the smallest is 3.25”, I think.

Regardless, it’s heavy and bulky. Especially when you get up into the larger sizes. We go through a lot of 5.00” and 5.25” window film. I’m constantly restocking this film on a weekly basis.

The way it works is that we keep one box of window film on the floor for the production people to grab as they need it. As the box becomes empty, I utilize our “Big Red” order picking forklift to pull out a new box of window film from the storage racks above to replenish the active stock on the floor.

I believe that a full box with 36 rolls of window film weighs roughly about 1500 pounds. I’m not quite sure of that estimation. Whatever it is, it’s weighty. One roll of 5.00” window film is probably 40 pounds or so.

The heaviest thing that I’ve had to move on occasion in our warehouse is glue. One drum of glue is 560 pounds and a real bitch to move around. We have to use a special hand truck just to get them from one place to another. I’ve had the misfortune of one of these giant drum of glue spilling on me, too. What a mess.

On Friday, I had placed a full pallet of window film (one pallet holds one box of window film) into the third rack of our window film storage area. The third rack is close to 30 feet up from the floor. Keep that in mind.

I like to think of myself as very careful when placing things into the storage racks. I do my best to make sure that the load I’m placing is straight and resting as best as I can get it on the steel framing of the racks as opposed to the wooden planks that are placed in between the racks for added support.

Except on Friday, something was amiss.

After I had placed this box of 5.00” window in the third tier storage rack, I lowered the forklift to the floor and proceeded to hop out so that I could pull some materials that were needed at one of the production machines.

As I pulled this material, I heard a distinct crack. A very loud, distinct crack. The kind of crack that only a wooden pallet would make if it was failing under it’s load. My eyes widened and I whipped around and looked up to where I just was placing the window film pallet.

Sure enough, the pallet wasn’t sitting just right in the rack. It’s was somewhat crooked and not resting correctly. The back end of the pallet was partially resting on the steel frame and partially resting on the wooden support planks.

One of the slats on the bottom of the pallet had cracked and made the weight of window film shift slightly to the back right corner of the pallet. As I turned around and saw that the pallet had broke, it got worse. I actually gasped and was about to run for cover.

Just as I had turned around and was able to see what had happened, the pallets weight shifting from the broken slat pushed into the wooden support plank below it. The support plank fell out and to the floor in front of me. The pallet then tipped and fell into the support beams of the racking.

I thought for sure that window film was going to take a nose dive right into the area where I was standing.

In a panic, I jumped into Big Red and quickly launched myself upward to try and stabilize the pallet. My concern wasn’t for me but for anyone coming into the area to get needed items for the production floor.

As I reached the pallet, I could see there was no way to get my forks into the pallet and lift it safely. The pallet was tipped at such an angle that I had no idea how the hell I was going to get it down without it falling. My only idea was to climb onto the racks and down-stack the pallet.

But I first had to notify my supervisor of the issue at hand.

I explained to my boss what had happened. He came over and tried to stabilize the pallet with no real success. Then we had the idea to use some of the planks from empty racks as additional lift on the forks of the forklift. It was a good effort but as he lifted the wooden planks on the forks underneath the broken window film pallet, the weight shifted again and popped the support plank from the other side of the damaged pallet.

What made it even worse was that when this happened, the weight shifting to the other side of this broken pallet pushed into the pallet of window film next to it. That, in turn, popped a support plank from THAT pallet of window film.

This caused the second pallet to tip into the first pallet. Now there were TWO full boxes of window film that were about to take a serious tumble 30 feet below and make a whole hell of a lot of ruckus.

Now I was worried and so was my boss. So we got my boss’s boss involved. We all agreed that the only was to fix the problem was to down-stack both pallets onto empty pallets to keep them from falling.

Guess who got to be the monkey?

I don’t mind heights. But I do mind trying to down-stack 40+ pound rolls of window film 30 feet up while trying to keep from falling. I had to grab a ladder for my boss so he could climb down from the Big Red order picking forklift. I grabbed another ladder to climb up to the top tier of the racks to down-stack the rolls of window film.

My boss came over with our standing forklift and raised up two empty pallets which I placed on either side of the dangling danger pallets. As I started to down-stack the more seriously damaged pallet that started all the fuss, the second pallet cracked and slipped just enough to almost make me wet my pants.

I had a brief moment of fear when I thought I was coming down with two full pallets of heavy ass window film. I even thought that maybe it would be safe to just say “fuck this” and get down from this asking-for-trouble mess.

But I was a trooper and kept going. I stopped working on the first pallet and moved to the second pallet. I tried to quickly move over the rolls of film to an empty pallet I had placed behind me. Once the pallet was light enough for me to lift, I moved it so that it was sitting firmly on the steel of the storage racks.

Then I moved back over to the first pallet and emptied it completely of it’s contents. By the time I was done, I was boiling hot and sweating like a pig. Crisis averted, though. I’d like to pat myself on the back and let it be known I saved the day. Not only did I not get seriously hurt, but I was able to save all the rolls of window film from any permanent damage.

I’m a hero in the envelope window film community. The funny thing is, I didn’t realize that it was Friday the 13th until after this chaotic event took place. And, to be honest, my day was downhill from there. A few other troublesome things happened but nothing too glamorous to report.

I haven’t had a real good work scare since I almost rolled my truck at Honey Bucket. Although, by comparison, I’d much rather deal with this pallet scare than that whole almost rolling my truck thing any day.

I have to pee. Excuse me.

-Mike The Janitor
©2009
Millenoma Publishing

2010: In two years we all die

2009-11-07T16:38:00.000-07:00

Since we all die in 2012, I wonder what excitement the next two years will bring? Personally, I don't believe in the whole 2012 hubbub. But I do believe that such hubbub will cause a great many people to panic. And in that panic will come some sort of temporary Apocalypse.

I'm all for it. That's how I roll. I'm a total cynic. I figure that since I spend a good majority of my time bitching and moaning, why not root for those crackpots and severely religious types to bring chaos and destruction, right? SURE! If there is anything I can do to help, let me know. Especially if it involves some sort of looting, pillaging and robbing those far more wealthier than I.

I realize that I could do any or all of that now but then it would involve jail time. And I don't want to be spending my last two years in the joint while others are out preparing for (and causing) the event known as 2012.

Is there anyway we can start the 2012 crisis now? I'm pretty impatient and would like some freakish events to come our way now. Oh wait, there is one thing that has come our way that is the beginning of 2012...

... H1N1.

Swine flu.

Or, as it originally became to be known, the Mexican Flu.

I was telling my boss at work a couple of days ago that I can't believe the amount of fervor over the swine flu and the vaccination for it. I suppose that if I had children, this wouldn't be so damn funny to me. But, I have to admit, that I think this whole thing is just damn silly.

But the more I think about it, the more I feel that there is something more to the H1N1 virus. And I wonder how many other people feel as I do? Last Sunday, "60 Minutes" did a follow-up report on a story they did regarding the swine flu.

The report was particularly interesting to me because they investigated more into how the vaccine is made. There is only ONE company that produces this vaccine in the United States. It's a French drug company. They have a THREE BILLION DOLLAR federal contract with the United States government to produce the H1N1 vaccine. Here is an excerpt from the 60 Minutes story by Scott Pelley:

Last summer, the government said there would be 120 million doses of vaccine by fall; weeks later, it revised that to 40 million. Now, just over 17 million have shipped - 14 percent of the first estimate.

Experts agree the government decoded the virus to prepare a vaccine in record time, a real achievement. But then the project hit snags.

The vaccine took longer than expected to produce, and there were shortages of supplies, like the sprayer for the FluMist version.

The H1N1 vaccine is being produced in a sprawling, $250 million facility in Swiftwater, Pa. Like other vaccines, the H1N1 virus is grown in chicken eggs, in an updated version of a process that has been around since World War II.

"Viruses are unique in that they require a living host to propagate. And the egg provides essentially a small, self-contained, sterile factory for the production of the vaccine," Sam Lee, director of manufacturing technology at French drug company Sanofi Pasteur, explained.

The plant has to be as clean as a hospital operating room. Pelley and the "60 Minutes" team put on clean suits and hairnets and passed through airlocks to reach the production line.

Five companies are making vaccine, but this is the only one in America.

"I see all these needles going into the top of the egg. Is that the virus going into the egg itself?" Pelley asked, observing the production process.

"There's the needle that comes down," Lee said. "The virus is then introduced directly to the egg. The eggs exit the machine. And are loaded onto carts. These carts are then wheeled into incubators, where they're environmentally controlled for temperature and humidity."

The virus grows in the eggs; later it is killed and refined into vaccine. The process takes three months. Most of that is testing for safety and sterility. Sanofi Pasteur has a federal contract to make 75 million doses. They will go through millions of eggs.

Asked if the farms producing the eggs are near the vaccine plant, Lee told Pelley, "Because of security reasons, I'm not at liberty to share specific, exact locations."

"These are secret egg farms?" Pelley asked.

"We don't want to reveal the location for security reasons," Lee said.

The farms in undisclosed locations are considered so important to national security, that among the first to get the vaccine were the egg farmers themselves. The egg program is one part of a $7 billion project launched five years ago by the Bush administration to build factories and infrastructure to make vaccine in case of a pandemic.

The official responsible for the vaccine program is Kathleen Sebelius, secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services.

At her national operations center, Secretary Sebelius was looking at figures for last week that were not encouraging. "We have just under 100 deaths, at this point, that have been confirmed H1N1 deaths. And they're on the rise," she said.

She told Pelley hospitalizations are on the rise and the epidemic is growing.

Sebelius told "60 Minutes" she learned there was trouble three weeks ago when the new virus wasn't growing inside the eggs as fast as seasonal flu virus does. Some companies were getting half their usual yield.

To learn more and watch the "60 Minutes" story for yourself, check out the following link:

"An Inside Look At H1N1 Vaccine Production"

After seeing this story, I started developing a conspiracy theory that I feel isn't too outlandish. Could it be possible that this H1N1 virus is not a flu at all but some type of biological warfare that has been launched against our nation?

Granted, it started in Mexico. But what better way to slowly implement your biological warfare against the United States by infecting people illegally entering and exiting the United States on a regular basis by the hundreds of thousands? That's a whole separate issue our people and government have been dealing with. Is that too far fetched to consider?

And going even further, could it be possible that (staying on the theme of this being a deliberate biological attack) this H1N1 virus was purposely created and launched by OUR government to test the waters on it's ability? But now that it has spread far quicker than expected, and our country has a real problem on it's hands, apparently.

Read this comment from the 60 Minutes story again:

"Experts agree the government decoded the virus to prepare a vaccine in record time, a real achievement."

Really? Could this fact be because the government caused this whole damn mess to begin with? Maybe? Possibly? HMMMMMMMM?

I realize that this French drug company has a exclusive contract to produce this vaccine for the H1N1 virus. But if this is such a PANDEMIC, then why the hell aren't there a few other companies being allowed to make the vaccination? Does anyone else find this odd?

Yes, there are five places making the vaccine. But only one in the United States. Why? All this money being dumped into this pandemic by our government to rely on one place to inject eggs for the vaccine? HELLO?

I don't buy it. I truly believe there is something far more seedy and dark about this whole thing. I guess since SARS didn't take off the way some drug companies had hoped, they had to come up with a new sickness to launch against the human race.

Go ahead, call me crazy. But give it some thought and think outside the normal realm.

And remember, the next egg you eat isn't an egg. It's hope. Do I need to start a cause where we all join together and turn over our eggs to local food banks in an effort to assist in helping the French drug company make more vaccines?

I think that's a fine idea. We need to rise up and rally together! We need to form secret ninja squads and sneak into farms across this great land and steal eggs! We need to laugh in the face of Easter and turn our eggs over to the government.

We need to start some domestic terrorism and strike against those who cook, fry and boil eggs! YOU WILL NOT STEAL OUR FUTURE! YOU WILL NOT EAT OUR HOPE! WE WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN AND TAKE YOUR EGGS!

DOWN WITH IHOP!

DOWN WITH DENNY'S!

DOWN WITH VILLAGE INN!

The next person you see eating eggs or some form of egg product, slap them in the face. Let them know that for every egg they consume, a baby angel (and chicken) DIES!

I will not rest until all eggs are safely collected and injected for H1N1 vaccine production! Any one who defies me and mocks my cause will wind up with egg on their face... errrr... wait, well... you know what I mean.

If 2012 is real, then this is where it starts... H1N1.

-Mike The Janitor
©2009
Millenoma Publishing

Pooper snooper

2009-10-12T16:31:00.000-06:00

For the last several weeks, I’ve been dealing with a constant, dull pain in my lower back. A few days ago, some of that pain had shifted from my lower back over to my right side while still continuing to be a pest in my lower back.

Yay!

I’ve lost time off of work because of this pain. It’s troublesome by making it hard to move comfortably. In my present line of work, I do a lot of bending and lifting and all that. I recently completed a project at work that required me to move 55 pound buckets of ink for over five hours as I rearranged them. This did not help the growing pain in my lower back. It just seemed to aggravate it even further.

But I’m cool like that, yo. I have a pretty high tolerance level for pain. And I very rarely ever go to the doctor. If I’m not bleeding severely or having massive chest pains, it’s all good. Even then, I’ll deal with it as long as I can before I cave and go see a medical specialist.

It’s not that I don’t like going to the doctor, mind you. I just never find the need. Plus, I’m usually in fairly good shape and not one to get sick too frequently. Outside of being out of shape and somewhat overweight, I’m as cool as a cucumber.

By the way, I’ve never fully understood that term “cool as a cucumber”. I’d like to know what farmer coined this phrase and made it all the rage? Actually, it’s not really all the rage, is it? It’s an old school term that should stay in the old, perhaps. But then again, it’s a total, fun flashback saying like “the cat’s pajamas”, “cool beans, daddy-o”, and “fuck Kanye West”.

Maybe back in the day, the cucumber coalition was looking for a marketing tool to sell more cucumbers? I’m assuming that farmers were developing stockpiles of unused cucumbers. They approached the National Cucumber Council of Greater North America (NCCGNA) and said they needed to rid their storage silos of vast amounts of cucumbers.

I think that the head of the NCCGNA (which is that stork from the Vlasic pickle ads) brainstormed with a popular New York ad agency and they came up with “cool as a cucumber”.

I bet other slogans like “the juicy, green shaft”, “the cucumber: more than just a kinky sex toy”, “the makings a pickle”, “better than okra” and “if your penis looks like a cucumber, see a medical professional” just didn’t make the cut.

Although the last slogan was used to promote safe sex and abstinence in the early 50’s. Especially among the men and women in the armed forces. Back then it was called “Cucumber Cock”. If you search on the internet, you can find the old advertising posters (like the classic “War Bonds” and “Rosie The Riveter” posters) that depict a large, cartoon cucumber (it kind of looks like Gumby) pointing at exclaiming: “If you suffer from ‘Cucumber Cock’, see a doctor!”

Yes, I’m totally making this up. Funny, yes? You’ll never look at a cucumber the same again. You’re welcome.

Anyway, let me get back to the seriousness of the ailment I’ve been suffering.

For years, I’m pretty sure I’ve suffered from kidney stones. Although I’ve never been diagnosed with kidney stones, it seems that it’s very possible that the pain I’ve been having for years in my lower back and right side would appear to be from kidney stones. It even says so on WebMD. It also says it could be “muscle strain”, “kidney infection”, “pulmonary embolism” and a variety of other possible issues.

While at work last Wednesday, the pain got to be a bit too much. I then realized (and why it took me SO long to realize this) that this pain is exactly what sent me to the emergency room almost a year ago.

Of course, back then, the pain was casing me to have shortness of breath. I’m not having the shortness of breath but if I was, I wouldn’t go to the damn emergency room. Hell, I didn’t want to go the emergency room the last time my condition got this bad.

At that time, the doctors couldn’t find anything really wrong with me. They attributed it to “flank pain”. And, the doctor said, the flank pain could have resulted from the passing of a kidney stone.

I was sent home and told to take 800 mg of ibuprofen (not to exceed 2400 mg in a day) for a week. I think I was also prescribed some kind of pain medication which I took once and then stopped because it made me sick.

So here I am with round two of this goddamn mysterious ailment. My boss encouraged me to take some time off of work to go to the doctor and see what the hell was going on. I looked through my health insurance’s directory to locate a doctor to go see. My previous physician was listed in the directory and accepted my type of insurance.

But when I called to see if I could get in to see him, it turns out he was no longer practicing at this medical facility I called. Apparently he had moved his services to an urgent care center in Saratoga Springs. I sure as hell wasn’t going to drive clear out there to see my primary care physician.

I called a couple of other doctors under the “General Practice” listings. None of these doctors could get me in for an appointment until the beginning of next week. My boss suggested I just head over to the urgent care center that my company uses for drug testing and medical card renewals.

I laughed at this notion because I don’t really think of urgent care facilities as a place you go to for something like I was suffering from. Besides, my concern was that any doctor I see at an urgent care isn’t really going to take the time to truly diagnose my symptoms and pinpoint and answer as to what I could be suffering from.

Not only that, this urgent care was more for industrial, work related accidents, in my mind. If I went there for my pre-employment drug test and medical card renewal, wouldn’t I look silly going there for a regular doctor visit? You go to a doctor’s office for exams and diagnoses, right? I guess I’m just stupid when it comes to my thought process on this issue.

So I broke down and went to the First Med Industrial Clinic & Urgent Care. My boss said I could leave work early and come back if it wasn’t too serious. I clocked out and drove to the clinic.

The one redeeming thing about this clinic is that there is the very sexy, petite redhead that works there that I have a huge crush on. Sadly, she’s married. Figures.

I filled out my paperwork, paid my co-pay and waited to see the attending doctor. I was called back by none other than the sexy redhead. She took my temperature, checked my blood pressure and asked what my symptoms were. She then took a urine sample and tested it in a little machine that reads pee.

She then put me in an exam room and I waited for the doctor. Not long after, the same doctor who gave me my DOT medical exam over a month ago came into the exam room.

He introduced himself and looked over the paperwork I had filled out earlier. He also had a bunch of sheets of something else but I have no idea what that was. Maybe it was my medical records? Who knows.

He looked over my papers and asked me what’s been troubling me. He reads aloud some of the symptoms I listed and asked for more specifics. I explain to him the following:

01: I’ve been to the emergency room for this type of pain in the past.
02: I’m going to the bathroom constantly. Even if I’m not drinking a lot of liquids.
03: I can’t sleep because of the pain and going to the bathroom.
04: There was one bathroom break where it burned slightly and smelled funny.
05: It’s hard to sit for long periods.
07: I do heavy lifting and move around a lot and this seems to aggravate my condition.
08: I think I have kidney stones.
09: I sometimes get nauseous watching “Dancing With The Stars”.
10: I'm not a fan of beets or candied yams during Thanksgiving dinner.

The doctor then asks me to sit on the exam table and he pushes around on my lower back. He hit a couple of uncomfortable spots which made me gasp slightly. The doctor then had me lay down on the exam table and bend my legs. He applied pressure to my abdomen with his hands and asked for me to describe any pain or sensation.

As he pushed around just above my crotch, it hurt somewhat. I explained to him there was pressure and it was uncomfortable. He then felt around my right side and I had a similar type of pain.

He explained to me that he didn’t think I had kidney stones. But, rather, an issue with my prostate that was causing the serious discomfort.

Oh boy. I could see what was coming.

He informed me that in many cases like these, men can either feel like or even be misdiagnosed with having kidney stones. The symptoms I was displaying were very similar. However, he felt that because of the pressure he was applying to my lower abdomen that it wasn’t a kidney issue.

He told me that I’m at the age where an enlarged prostate is very common. He asked if I had ever had my prostate checked. I told him that the last time I had an actual doctor examination, at 32, the doctor had offered such an examination but I had declined it.

This doctor said that he wouldn’t feel comfortable with me turning it down now because of my symptoms and that it was essential that the examination take place. I didn’t argue with him. I said “no sweat, doc.”, dropped my drawers and assumed the position.

Cyber friends and readers, you haven’t lived until your doctor is performing half of “The Shocker” on you. I wasn’t scared or embarrassed. I was actually pissed that I didn’t do this sooner. I could have possibly prevented this from happening.

Although the doctor had lubed up his finger for his visit to my private place, it hurt going in there. I kept thinking that the hot redhead was going to mistakingly walk in on us and be faced with my hairy ass up in the air and a guy’s finger deep-sea diving.

Then I had a momentary thought of awfulness. It dawned on me that one reason men have to have their prostate checked regularly after 30 is because of prostate cancer. A very common type of cancer in men.

As the doctor was letting his finger do the walking in Butt Town, I couldn’t help but giggle slightly to myself thinking how a lot of women think men are assholes. I found this funny because it seems fitting that one of the deadliest diseases can be found in men infecting their prostates which is examined via the ass.

I had to think of something else as the doctor played Lemmiwinks with my butt.

Again, the doctor asked for me to describe any unusual pain or sensation as he probed around. I laughed at this because how the hell can I know what to tell him when his finger is up my ass.

Now, I know guys make jokes about this all the time. It’s an age old joke. A tired joke, actually. But I can make fun of it since this is my first time getting a prostate exam. I had no idea going to see the doctor would result in such an examination.

It took less than 15 seconds for the doctor to hit my prostate which made me wince, squirm and cry out just a tad. I told the doctor that I think he found gold because that hurt. He pushed a little harder and asked what kind of discomfort I was experiencing.

Without missing a beat, I moaned that I couldn’t tell if I was having discomfort from a finger in my ass or from whatever he was hitting. The doctor chuckled and said that at least I was being a good sport about it all.

I told him that it hurt and it felt like I had to pee really bad. I was actually concerned that he was going to make me pee all over the exam room floor. The doctor assured me that wouldn’t happen. He then felt around for any other discomfort and abnormalities within my rectal area.

After finishing up, he explained that the good news was that he could tell that there didn’t feel like any type of abnormalities that could be signs of possible prostate cancer. He did discover, however, the tissue within my anus was soft around the prostate which confirmed it was enlarged.

The doctor then went on to explain that due to my enlarged prostate, it’s interfering with my bladder. My enlarged prostate is pushing against my bladder and pinching it in a way that makes it form like an hourglass. The top half of my bladder is collecting urine. The bottom half is collecting urine passing from the top half. From there, it passes out as I urinate.

What’s become a problem is the fact that I’m not completely emptying my bladder when I go to the bathroom. Although urine is sterile, it can become contaminated when an enlarged prostate prevents it from emptying correctly.

Well, guess what?

This is also what I’m suffering from. The pain I’m suffering from is actually from the bladder problem. The enlarged prostate pushing on my bladder is radiating pain to make it feel very similar to a kidney stone issue. And because my bladder isn’t emptying completely, I more than likely have an infection from the built-up, contaminated urine.

Yuck.

But I don’t have prostate cancer. That’s good.

With that, the doctor prescribed a muscle relaxant that will help with the pain and a medication that will assist in reducing the swollen prostate to normal size. I have to take the medication twice a day for 28 days.

The muscle relaxant I take once a day for the same duration. I won’t feel the effects of the enlarged prostate reducing for a couple of weeks. But the doctor assured me I will be feeling much better after the medication process is complete.

Good. I’m glad to hear this news and know a definite answer to something that has become increasingly painful for a long time. My question is, why the fuck didn’t the emergency room staff at the Intermountain Health Care Medical Center think to check for this? I mean... REALLY? I have an urgent care doctor in a First Med immediately think to check my prostate but not a full blown emergency room staff?! GODDAMNIT!

But then again, it could still be kidney stones. I’m just going to focus on one ailment at a time, though. I’ll keep the faith and hope for the best. And hope that this prostate thing is really all that is wrong with me.

Well, outside of my continuing mental illness.

-Mike The Janitor
©2009
Millenoma Publishing

10.10.09 - The beginning inspired from an end

2009-10-10T09:00:00.000-06:00

For those of you that know me and have come to know my "art" (that's the cool term I use for my blogs), you've been reading and learning about me on MySpace. Or Facebook. However, I've grown tired of both of these social networking sites.

So I decided to reserve myself to a more anti-social networking website. Working in conjunction with Blogger.com, I've been able to link mikethejanitor.com/.net to create a slice of cyber heaven that is all mine. Welcome to the newly created and transformed mikethejanitor.com.

No more lame cyber updates. No more Mafia Wars. No more notifications. No more friend requests. No more advertising banners for Zwinky's, Singlesnet, Match.com, True.com or anything else, for that matter. No more random wall postings. No more bullshit. This is just me. Scaled down and bare for all to see, read and enjoy. Or not enjoy. Whatever. Do with my site as you wish.

People will only find me if they truly look for me. People will only find me if they want to continue down my entertaining blog path. People will only find me if they have other people join them in the search and journey to rediscover all that is Mike The Janitor.

I welcome you with open arms and look forward to continuing to write my works on a site that is dedicated to such storytelling, memories and occasional mindless rambling.

I launch this new site on a day of sadness, actually. On this date back in 2005, my very close and dear friend, Nick "Danger" Baker passed away after committing suicide in his apartment in Reno, Nevada. He was 36-years old.

My life has not been the same since his death. It's not something I've ever fully recovered from and probably never will. I launch this site on the four year anniversary of his death as a tribute to his memory.

This is a big project I have planned here. It is my intention to copy over all 630 blogs from MySpace here to my website. I've been writing for over four years on MySpace and have gained close to 30,000 blog reads in that time.

Plus, I don't want to erase the history I've created on that site. Instead, I'd rather transfer those blogs to this newly created forum and share them with a broader audience. The transfer will take some time but it will be fun to revisit what I've written over the years.

For those of you that are new to me, you will also be able to share in what you've been missing. Of course, some of you newbies could be completely outraged, disgusted, bored or uninterested in anything I have said in the past. Which will lead you not to give a shit about anything I have to blog about now or in the future. And that's okay. We can agree to disagree. I welcome haters and naysayers. Sometimes I relish in their feedback because it can make for a great blog.

Again, welcome. Sit back, relax and let the words flow over you like a warm summer breeze. Ahhhhhh... you feel that? That's Mike The Janitor. The one and only. The man who can, has and will again. Damn straight.

Incidentally, I have no idea what that last paragraph even means.

- Mike The Janitor
(In memory of Nick "Danger" Baker. 1969-2005)
©2009
Millenoma Publishing

"You can't let my death hold you back."

2007-05-21T12:00:00.000-06:00

That was said to me in a dream I had last night. It was a very vivid dream. Not just vivid but one of those dreams that seemed SO REAL.

You know the dreams you have that don't really have any elements of oddness to them? This dream was like that. Well, aside from the weird looking monkey dog that attacked me, there was no other element of oddity.

I was in Reno. It was late November. I'm not sure why I was there but I wound up stopping by the Atlantis Hotel & Casino to see Smith & McClain from 105.7 KOZZ. They were doing their "Stuff-A-Bus" campaign.

I started helping them with their live broadcast because, for some reason, their remote technician had disappeared. We had some laughs and they asked me what I had been up to and they talked to me on the air.

At some point, the wind picked up and the KOZZ tent flew a few hundred yards as I chased it (this actually happened to me once). Out of the blue, a friend and former coworker/colleague showed up to help me catch the tent. It was Ken Allen

Ken was the first person I worked with and for when I was hired by Lotus. He oversaw the remote department. He was really good at his job and taught me well. I've always had great respect for him and let him down at one point that caused strain on our working relationship several years ago.

I stopped chasing the tent and stopped to chit chat with Ken. Ken was saying: "We'll chit chat later, buddy! We gotta catch that tent"!

When we got the tent and I helped Ken weigh it down so it wouldn't fly away again, a strange looking dog that was somewhat half monkey and half dog ran up and bit into my right forearm HARD!

It tore flesh away but it didn't even hurt. I was too excited to be there in Reno again working along people I had come to respect and admire and gain friendships with.

The dog ran up again and bit into my right foot. Ken grabbed a large antenna and whapped the monkey dog on the head and it ran off with a comical "yipe, yipe, yipe" cry.

As I talked to Ken, people came by and dropped off canned goods and clothes and many stopped to say hello to me. Then Jim McClain told me that Dane Wilt (the general manager over Lotus Radio in Reno that owns KOZZ) wanted to see me.

When I got to the station, Dane took me into his office. He informed me that he was impressed with the fact I took the initiative to help with the remote even though I wasn't on the payroll.

He went on to explain that I not only had a great history with Lotus but a bad one, too. At this point he called in Raina Weathers (who used to be the general sales manager at Lotus) who sat down in the meeting.

Dane looked and Raina and then to me and said: "Raina and myself have been talking with some others here and we've decided that we're going to let the past be the past. We don't have any on air positions available but we could use you full time to be our remote technician. Would you be interested in coming back and starting over with us because we'd really like to have you back"?

I immediately said yes. We didn't talk salary or anything of the sort and I didn't care. I just remember Raina congratulating me and leaving the office while I tried to keep from crying.

Dane looked at me and said: "I know it's been a rough road for you. But you cannot and WILL NOT fuck up this time! Do you understand me? Just don't. You have the ability and the potential to be great and you will be. Now get to work."

As I walked out of Dane's office, I was overjoyed with the new job and wanted to see all the old faces I'd come to know at Lotus. As I walked down the hallway, an office door opened and out walked my friend Nick.

I stood frozen in the hallway. Nick said: "Congratulations, El Gordo Melon. You can do this."

"Nick, you're dead."

"Yes, I am. And you can't let my death hold you back".

He walked back in the office and closed the door. As I looked away from the closed door in an utter daze, I saw everyone I had come to know and love and work with at Lotus Radio standing in the hallway clapping.

Clearly overwhelmed, I started to cry. And then I woke up.

I decided that I'm making it a goal to get a suitable radio job before October 10th. That day will mark the second year that Nick has been gone. His birthday is coming up on June 9th. I have a secret ambition to get a gig on or before that date but it's a little unrealistic with the way the radio market is.

But I believe I can get a radio gig before October 10th. It would be even more fantastic if I could get something in Reno. That only seems fitting. And who knows... that could very well happen.

This dream was a hard truth and an inspiration that I might as well get back into the swing of doing what I've always been meant to do. I know I've made this claim before and never followed through on it.

Not this time. This dream was a clear sign of things I've been repressing and need to admit to. I've been holding myself back not only because of Nick's death but because I felt deflated, worthless, used, disrespected, stained, judged, hated, despised and washed up.

This is me projecting my own feelings of guilt and remorse of stupid shit I've done onto others. It's time for me to know that I make mistakes and will continue to do so. But I've learned from that and I need to keep harboring such anger against myself. And I need to stop being angry at those involved in my life that have been close to bad situations involving me.

Yes, I could use some therapy and I intend to do that. But I also intend to do some self help here and accept what my friend JJ and others have said. That I'm not happy because I'm denying how much radio means to me and IT IS and ALWAYS will be where I need to be.

I'm not someone who is meant to mow lawns all day or operate a forklift or work in a warehouse or who knows what else. Radio is all I have ever known since I was a senior in high school. And even before then, it's what I wanted to do.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back Mike The Janitor.

Seriously.

-Mike The Janitor
®2007
Millenoma Publishing

Shhhhh... do you hear that? it's the coming of IKEA!

2007-05-20T12:20:00.000-06:00

Oh yes, my cyber buddies. The fine state of Utah and the county of Salt Lake will now be a part of the trendy elite.

BEHOLD.... IKEA!

The excitement is overbearing for me. I'm being serious. I know of what treasures await within an IKEA store for decent, cheap prices. If ever I get my own place again, (or, better yet, A HOUSE), IKEA will be my dream place to shop with all it's shiny, contemporary objects.

I love the designs that are available at IKEA. Those Swedish people really know how to set the standards for modern design and decor. And very soon, I (along with the entire state of Utah) will be able to plan out my future of leisure living within their MASSIVE 310,000 square foot store in Draper!

All bow before the mighty God IKEA!

The only other store that comes close to IKEA is Target. Target is cool for those of us that like to be trendy or on the cutting edge or modern or chic or trying to look expensive and high class.

However, IKEA raises the bar by offering SO MUCH MORE!

It's the talk of the town here in the valley. It's big news. I'm not kidding. This is like whenever a Wal*Mart opens a supercenter in a town that has a population of 1200. From a news paper article I read, this IKEA store will be their 30th store opening and the largest of it's kind.

The store has a 300 seat restaurant inside of it! Fuck it! I'm just going to go live there. I can get free room and board and sell and live IKEA! I'll never have to leave!

That's what makes Utah so great. Everything is BIGGER and BETTER here. We're like a test market for everything cool. We have Sundance and the 2002 Winter Olympics to thank for that. And maybe Mitt Romney, too. And possibly Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ, God, some golden plates, a horn blowing Moroni and some other factors, I'm sure.

Salt Lake City is becoming more and more of a go to place for all things trendy and cool and fun and blah, blah, blah. We're not just about the Mormons anymore, kids. Oh no! And with the arrival of IKEA, there is NO STOPPING OUR STATES' TREND SETTING WAYS!

MUAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Now if we could just get a goddamn Jack In The Box here. Sheesh. Actually, a few people have told me that Jack In The Box was here at one time. But due to some serious issues of food poisoning, they closed down the few locations they had in the Salt Lake Valley.

Damn it. Jack In The Box is awesome for those cheap, late night food fixes when you're three sheets to the wind and craving two big tacos for 99 cents. Followed by some drunk shopping and people watching at Wal*Mart.

This is a big reason I want to go back to Reno. 24 hour drinking and Jack In The Box. I have no other real aspirations because that's all I need. Booze and Wal*Mart. They complete me.

Now, the news about IKEA opening here on May 23rd is crazy. IKEA has even ENCOURAGED people to start camping out tomorrow for the opening of the store on Wednesday. The are have IKEA tailgate parties planned.

I actually want to do this. It sounds like fun. Then I realized what kind of crazed idiot goes and camps out in a store parking lot awaiting it's opening?! I'll tell you who... ME! I'd do it. And I guarantee that there will be several other thousand people doing it, as well.

Hell, they're probably already setting up camp right now. The opening of this store is such a big deal, the Draper City Building and Planning Commission and the Draper City Police are devising ways to maintain order and cut down on traffic issues.

I'm secretly hoping for riots, the burning of cars, women and children fighting over the free door prizes of pillows and chairs and drunken fist fights between men at the tailgate parties. I want all hell to break loose and water trucks, riot gear, K-9 dogs and pepper spray to be brought out in full force.

I want no harm to come to anyone, mind you. I just want to see pure chaos. I want to see raging commotion happening in the streets and in the parking lot of the looming, blue and yellow (colors that also scream Best Buy) IKEA God! I think it's only appropriate that some human sacrifices be made in it's grand opening honor.

I'm going to go there and build a shrine and pray before Lord IKEA. I will speak in tongues and roast a goat while using it's blood for pagan rituals to please my IKEA Lord.

I think I'll buy some property around the area of Lord IKEA and build a Church of IKEA where we worship the Swedes in all their contemporary glory! We will march in the streets and burn ANYONE at the stake who owns a couch or anything else from R.C. Willey!

The time has come for IKEA to rise from this mortal coil and rule this grand opening day!

MUAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

ALL HAIL IKEA! PRAISE IT'S GLORIOUS NAME AND FANTASTIC BUYS! SHOWER ME IN SUITABLE BARGAINS AND MAKE ME A CONDUIT FOR YOUR GLORY AND TEACHINGS, LORD IKEA!

I can't wait. I just can't wait. OH BOY! Saint IKEA is coming to save us all from really bad, southwestern looking country home style furniture!

-Mike The Janitor
©2007
Millenoma Publishing

Mike's Top 20

2007-05-19T12:29:00.000-06:00

While I've been looking for a new job, I've been listening to a lot of music. What's great about applying for work online is the fact I can have my iTunes running in the background.

Sometimes I'll get distracted by a song and think of another song that I don't have in my collection that I want. That causes me to break away from looking for work and searching for that song on iTunes.

Then when I find the song, I buy it for a buck. After which, I listen to it a few hundred times. Then I think of MORE songs I want and start all over again. Before I know it, I've bought 20 songs and 14 hours have passed since I was originally applying for work!

Perhaps I should not listen to music on iTunes while I'm working to find work, huh?

Mike's Top 20 Songs:
20: Gary Glitter "Rock 'N' Roll (Part II)"
19: Mystic "The Life"
18: Moloko "Fun For Me"
17: Urban Dance Squad "Deeper Shade Of Soul"
16: Molly Hatchet "Flirtin' With Disaster"
15: XTC "I Bought Myself A Liarbird"
14: Creeper Lagoon "Empty Ships"
13: The Pixies "Where Is My Mind?"
12: Pink Floyd "When The Tigers Broke Free"
11: Madonna & The Black Eyed Peas "Hung Up vs. Shut Up (St. Ken Mash Mix)"
10: Dead Can Dance "In The Kingdom Of The Blind, The One-Eyes Are Kings"
09: Moke "Down'
08: Third Eye Blind "Graduate"
07: Simple Minds "Sanctify Yourself"
06: Thompson Twins "You Take Me Up"
05: Hubert Kah "Machine Gun"
04: I Monster "Daydream In Blue"
03: The Decemberists "Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect"
02: Metallica "Fuel"
01: Ben Folds "Fired"

-Mike The Janitor
©2007
Millenoma Publishing

Welcome to Single Mom Central (S.M.C., UT.)

2007-05-18T19:43:00.000-06:00

Nowhere else on Earth will you find a wide variety of single moms then you will in the state of Utah. And not only are we talking a single mom of one but a single mom of several.

Utah is a breeding ground of newborns. Especially blonde hair/blue eye babies. We're talking good looking "Children Of The Corn" kids running all over the place.

It's not really Utah more than it is the conditioning of the Mormon religion. Big families are a big deal with this church. And if Mitt Romney gets in the White House (yeah, RIGHT!) they'll have to build an extension to it just to house everyone in his family and extended family.

It must be hard to be a single mom in Utah. I know it was for my mom. So for me to write a blog that somewhat mocks just how prominent it is here, is ironic. And possibly, slightly rude.

I mean no offense to single moms. But it's crazy insane the amount of single mothers I've been encountering while doing this online personals thing. It's not just the single mom I've been witnessing but the AGE of the single mom.

I've been reading the profiles of many single moms who are anywhere from 18-40 years old and many of them with more than one kid. But the younger ones, like between 18-22, have more than one kid. There is one young lady whose profile I was reading that is 22 and has THREE kids. Yet she has never been married.

Another young woman was 19 with two kids and DIVORCED. WHHHAAAAAAT?! This is nutty. Well, clearly this has happened because someone busted a nutty and had a little buddy and left the female which left things muddy and that must make that female feel like silly putty.

Man, that was a lame attempt at a joke and a rhyming poem.

Anyway, I know that for my mom that her having a little bastard made it difficult for her to find a suitor. She dated a couple of guys while I was growing up but never really settled down with anyone. That must have been really hard. Everyone needs a companion. She never really got hers. I feel partly to blame there because I was the kid that got in the way.

This isn't to say I feel responsible for her non-existent dating life. But I empathize with her situation. It's tough to be a single mom trying to make ends meet and find someone you connect with that also likes kids and wants to be a part of a bigger picture.

I've been involved with some single moms over the years. Some I've been close with where I've been around their children. Others I've been with and they've introduced me to their kids too early.

And still others I've been involved with never talked about their kids all that much nor had me around them. It all depends on how a single mom views the man she is seeing, I guess.

Personally, if I date a single mom, I'd like to meet the kids much later in the relationship. It seems only appropriate. If a single mom and I were just hooking up for good times and casual sex, there is no point for me to interact with her children.

But when is a good time? One girlfriend I had, Lisa from Reno, Nevada, used to screw the hell out of me back in the day. Then she moved away when she joined the Navy. She also got married (even after I stressed to her not to) after two weeks of knowing some guy she met while in the Navy.

The marriage went bust and so did her time in the military (with an honorable discharge). When she came back to Reno, she was now a mom. When I finally heard from her, she was calling me from her hospital room to let me know she was having another child.

Wow.

She and I hung out for quite a bit after she had her second baby. We had sex a couple of times, too. Maybe it was just once? I don't remember exactly. I just know that I had feelings for her but not enough to sustain a relationship and certainly not to be a father to her children.

I truly believe she has hated me for this and made it clear she never wanted to speak to me again when I upset her regarding my feelings for her.

She's since remarried and still lives in Reno with her husband, Mitch. I've thought about her from time to time and envied Mitch because I liked Lisa a great deal. But not enough to commit to her in a long term relationship that involved children. I said that already.

There was another female I was briefly involved with named Nicole. Nicole lived outside of Reno in a town called Fernley. She had two kids and was still a young, wild woman who I felt, at times, just wanted to fuck and drink. Ironically, she was Mormon.

The sex was fun with her but that was about it. The distance between us and our schedules made seeing each other hard. Plus, she was a close friend of the girlfriend of MY friend. That's how we met, actually. Thanks Brieanna.

Long story short, I wasn't really into her, she wasn't into me and blah, blah, blah. But one moment I remember about some sex we had was when I first met her kids. I had gone out to her place in Fernley to hang out for the night. At some point during our foreplay, one of her boys woke up and came out into the front room where we were.

Instead of putting him back to bed, she let him crash on the couch. We went in the kitchen next to the room with the couch and fucked like wild beasts over the kitchen counter while the kid slept.

That's just wrong. But what are you going to do when kids are involved? Single moms will stop at nothing to get the cock. I bet if Nicole, or any woman in that position, was wanting the cock so bad, she would have put a paper bag over his head while we boned in the recliner.

OK, maybe that's a stretch but it's funny. Maybe it's not funny to Nicole. Hi Nicole. She was sexy. Petite with these fantastically large natural breasts. She was a thing of beauty but nowhere near my type. Looks can only get you so far with me.

And there was still another single mom that I really, REALLY liked. No, I was in love with her. I just couldn't express it right away. Her name was Angelina Morris. She had a little boy named Cody. And she was perfect. We had a lot in common and she was crazy about me.

But she got too close too quick and I pushed her away which made her decide to disappear. She had even warned me early on in our short lived relationship that once she makes the decision to leave, there is no going back.

And she was true to her word. Being a typical man, after I pushed her away because she was trying to hard to get too close too fast, I would call her late at night drunk confessing my feelings for her and trying to explain myself and how I didn't think she was being fair by not allowing me my room and time to get to know one another better.

This all went down in a matter of months. Soon, she would find someone else. That always hurt me. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe not. But I can say that I did love her. I also loved Lisa. Nicole was just a good time with sex.

But I think about how these single moms were looking at the situation involving me. Or any man they become attracted to.

For me, I try to keep my distance from single moms. It's not the kids but the possibility of losing my relationship with the woman I'm involved with. What happened with me and Angelina was tough. She meant a lot to me and I was excited to be with her and someday meet her young boy. I knew in my heart she was the girl for me.

I think I've mentioned this before but I openly told my friend Nick that she was going to be the girl I was going to marry. I had only felt that way once before with my ex-girlfriend, Christina. And I've never had that feeling again since Angelina. Nor have I had it after her.

For me, I'm looking to start a family of my own and not come into one that has already begun. There are many men out there, however, that like it the other way. I have several guy friends that have had successful relationships with single moms.

I don't know why I feel that way. It's just a preference. Of course, with my whole mental condition, I don't really have room to be picky. But I don't want to sell myself short, either.

Wait, that sounded bad. I'm not saying that being involved with a single mom would be selling myself short. Ahhhhhhhh, what's the use. I'm sure this blog will piss off several single moms no matter what.

If I were to encounter a single mom that had that spark the way Angelina got me going, I would have no reservations with hooking up with a single mom again. But right now it's not something I'm out seeking.

I have come to notice that many of the single moms here in Utah (and this is due in large part to the Mormon religion), are out there looking for a father and provider as opposed to a companion and lover. It's these women I try my best to stay away from. I just don't agree with this mentality... says the guy with the mental issues.

At this point in my life, maybe kids would be a good thing. But my own kids. As much as I hate to say it, my mom made a sacrifice. She loved me too much to really become involved with someone who might not only hurt her with a possible break up but hurt me to by being another non-existent male figure in my life.

I guess, actually I KNOW that it was hard on both of us. And some of that might have something to do with my problems today.

My man pig side just kicked in and reminded me how fun it is to feed the sexual beast of a single mom. They really love to have sex. Bunch of horny vixens, single moms. RAWR!

I sometimes feel guilt when having sex with a single mom. Women in general, especially single moms, have more of a bond and connection when it comes to sex then men do. Men eventually have these same feelings but it takes time. I've come to learn that women have it right away no matter how much they try to lie about or deny it.

Women are far more superior. They really are. They hold all the cards and they know it. I find that disturbingly hot and sexy.

I am in need of finding the right woman for me. Single mom or not. It's just something I'm desiring. But if I can't keep sane or keep a job... how the fuck am I going to keep a woman? Who knows! But I'm so up for the challenge.

-Mike The Janitor
©2007
Millenoma Publishing

A day at the movies... alone

2007-05-18T16:06:00.000-06:00

I love going to the movies. I always have. I especially like to go to the movies with other people. Like a good friend or a girlfriend. Going to the movies is a fun first date, too. This way I can gauge if they are someone I'd want to continue to see if their tastes in film are similar to mine.

It's also fun to go to the movies with people you know because you have someone to talk to before the film. And to answer those silly movie trivia questions with, too. You can share in the excitement, the drama, the sadness, the action, the comedy and everything else that comes from the story playing out on the screen.

Sometimes it's fun to make fun of and berate a film should it turn out to be a big pile of shit. In recent years, I've seen several bad films where I've wanted to take a bullet to the face than sit through another minute of agonizing bad script.

I remember a couple of movies I was sort of looking forward to that I took my now ex-girlfriend Amanda to see. Both of the movies turned out to be a good way to torture someone. I thought they should immediately be played in Abu Gharib to get terrorist fuckers to spill their guts!

One was "UltraViolet" and the other was "Silent Hill". I felt so bad spending money on those pools of vomit that I wanted to picket out in front of every theater playing them and pay people to NOT see them.

Another time I recall seeing a really bad movie was with my friend, Bill Tanner. Bill and I went to see "Deep Blue Sea" back when I lived in Reno, Nevada. Christ, this movie was awful.

It was soooooo bad, in fact, that Bill and I (along with other people in the theater) started to mock the movie loudly. It was so bad that we couldn't NOT watch it. We we're more entertained by how BAD the movie was then it's potential to get better.

It never got better. As a matter a fact, I remember one scene in the film where the character played by Samuel L. Jackson goes off on this big speech and a shark comes up out of this pool and eats him. It was SO lame yet so fitting! It also got a huge laugh from Bill and I and we stood up and clapped.

Anyway, it's moments like that I enjoy experiencing with others in my company when I'm at the movies. There are movies now that I watch on VHS or DVD that I recall in a way that is fond to me because it reminds me of who I was with when I first saw it. I love those kind of memories and the feelings they bring.

Being unemployed again is somewhat nice. It gives me an opportunity to be more spontaneous while I'm out and about looking for work.

For instance, yesterday I went and saw "Hot Fuzz" which stars Simon Pegg and Nick Frost. These are the same guys who did "Shaun Of The Dead". I knew the only theater in Salt Lake that was playing it was in the downtown area. So I made it a point to head out that way while doing some errands and applying for jobs.

I've been excited for this movie since seeing previews for it the past few weeks. I knew it couldn't be a bad movie because "Shaun Of The Dead" was such a great film in so many ways.

I will say that "Hot Fuzz" is worth seeing in the theater. Except, don't go into thinking that it could be better than "Shaun Of The Dead" because you may not enjoy it as much.

It doesn't come as close in wit and humor as "Shaun Of The Dead" but it is entertaining and funny. They also make fun of "Shaun Of The Dead" in one scene that was pretty clever. Actually, the whole movie is clever but it's one I have to see again to catch all the joking references they make throughout the film.

I have to admit that as I sat there laughing, it enhanced the fact I was by myself. Now, I do like to see a movie alone from time to time. But not this time. There were two other people in the theater with me and they were alone also.

Three people in one big theater laughing alone but together. That made me kind of sad. Not just for me but for the other two people. I couldn't help but wonder why THEY were alone in this theater with me enjoying a film that really needs more attendance than three people.

I don't like being alone but it's just what I need to do until I get better. And what I mean by better is emotionally, mentally and financially better. I'm in a bad place right now. Of course, when am I NOT in a bad place? It's the same ol' goddamn song and dance when it comes to me and who I am.

I'm quickly falling apart and I need professional help. Even people close to me have reached a point where this has become a point of discussion. It seems that every time I fix one problem with me, another one happens. And when I fix that problem, the other problem I fixed happens again. And so on and so forth and yak, yak, yak.

And nothing can make all of these emotions come to light more than being alone in a dark theater laughing by myself.

What happened to bring me to this sad state? What I fear is going to a licensed professional and having them diagnose me as sick mentally. Mentally unstable. Emotionally unstable. A danger to himself and others. One who suffers from a sizable amount of mental illness.

How awful. Could this be what I'm facing? Is it showing more and more to others but not to me because I'm in some kind of denial? Do I need to spend some time in a "wellness center" for help? Or is it some simple medication that I need? Or maybe I just need someone to talk to outside of myself and my own thoughts and subconscious?

I'm scared and I don't know why. I'm 34 and living in a complete black hole right now.

One reoccurring thought I have is that I'm suffering from some kind of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of the death of my friend Nick.

My friend JJ thinks I need help and pointed out that I'm not doing what I love. What I love and what I've done all my life is radio. Oddly enough, I haven't been back in radio nor really ever tried or wanted to try to get back into it since Nick's death.

Actually, since I was fired with such disgrace from 96.1 KLPX in Tucson, Arizona (and then, just a week later, Nick died), I have never cared to get back into radio. Since then, my life has been going in all sorts of different directions both personally and professionally.

Could these two situations be the root cause of my recent problems? Is there something there I need to open up to further? What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep jeopardizing myself, the people I'm involved with and the positions of employment I hold?

Honestly, you know what I would like? My job at the railroad back. I was really happy there. If I'm not going to get back into radio, I'd like to go back to that. I know I've mentioned that before but there is no way that'll ever happen. Whatever mental sickness I'm suffering from destroyed that possibility for me.

Wait, I'm not going to be one of those people who puts blame of some sickness. My undoing is my own. It's MY fault and nobody else's. Of course, maybe that's another thing to consider. Perhaps the burden of guilt and shame I'm carrying around for a host of things has driven me completely mad.

It's time for me to investigate getting some help. Thank God for the internet. I'm sure I can find someone to talk to and assist me to combating whatever it is that is causing such distress.

You know what else the internet is helping me do? It's assisting me in find two other major needs in my life. Money and love. On the internet, I can bounce from the Department of Workforce Services website to find work all while utilizing Singlesnet.com to find the woman that is right for me and my mental conditions.

The glory of cyber space. Monster.com to OkCupid.com to CareerBuilder.com to Singlesnet.com to MySpace.com.

Maybe that's really all the therapy I need right there.

No, no it's not.

Anyway, check out "Hot Fuzz". But take someone with you that you can enjoy it with. If you don't have anyone, give me a buzz. I'll go with you and have a laugh and create some memories.

-Mike The Janitor
©2007
Millenoma Publishing