Thursday, September 22, 2005

I'll take "Things That Might Drive Joe to Crazyville" for $1000, Alex (Or, Let's Get to Know Joe)

by The Notorious J.O.E.

The Job That's Sucking The Last Bit of Lifeblood From Me

Being on Technical Support for five years, you see a lot of things that make you wonder how humans ever evolved from apes. Well there’s not enough room, but here’s a short list:

I needed to work on a woman’s computer and she wasn’t around. Should I change her password or just take a guess? I looked around and saw a wide of array of cutesy-wootsy little puppy figurines on the top of monitor. A dog calendar sits on my left. Hmmn. Let’s try "dogs" shall we? Woohoo, I’m in. Schedule me for a guest appearance on Alias pronto.

I get an emergency help desk ticket for a top executive whose computer was down. I rushed up there, nearly collapsing a lung. I examined the situation. Then, I turned the monitor on. Crisis resolved.

I have grown to hate computers and I have grown to hate people who use them. Where does this leave me you ask? I believe it leaves me with an abacus, a padded cell, and a big fat smile on my face.

Liza, Babs, Madonna, oh my!

Yes I’m a homo. I like it sometimes, but more and more I find, me no like so much. I’ve had some good relationships, but I’ve managed to screw them up somehow or they just haven’t worked out for the best. I also have some really good gay friends.

So why Joe, do you hate the heterosexually challenged? There’s not enough room, but let’s see if we can examine some of the reasons:

There’s a very attractive guy at the gym. He looks at me. I look at him. He’s got a very nice build. He dresses in normal workout attire, ergo he’s not wearing a leotard. He goes to the gym to actually workout (something that doesn’t really happen very much in the homo gyms). But then I see him out at the bars, its all "grrllllll" and sparkly jewelry and skipping through the bar and singing the Wicked soundtrack in its entirety. It’s like Paul Walker to RuPaul in no time flat.

And am I getting old, or is the fashion in the gay (and metrosexual) community getting worse? Why? I ask why?

Upturned collars on polos: it wasn’t a good idea when you drove your 83 Trans Am listening to Huey Lewis’ latest blockbuster CD and it isn’t a good idea now.

Wearing baseball caps tilted. I credit Jason Mraz with that stroke of genius. Well I have a remedy; you ain’t him, so please stop. It’s just stupid.

And lastly, this combination tail/mohawk/mullet haircut. Independently, each of them are very very hard to pull off. Together they’re just plain hideous. However, if you have any of these plus tattoos, piercings, a rockin’ body and your sense of humor measures 10 inches, then I am willing to look past the haircut. I’m very forgiving that way.

Why Joe Hates Politics

Barbara Bush, I realize you recently turned 110 years old and things aren’t running as smoothly up there anymore. But I mean, isn’t it bad enough we have to listen to your stunningly brilliant children? Sure, your comment about the refugees was a just personal observation:

"What I'm hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them."
- Barbara Bush, during a radio interview with the American Public Media program Marketplace.

But that doesn’t make it any smarter than sayyy....

"You work three jobs? Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that."
- George W. Bush, to a divorced mother of three, Omaha, Nebraska, Feb. 4, 2005

But it did piece together a little mystery of where the other half of the brain is.

Odds and Ends

So I hate a lot of things. I can't possibly go in to all of them...can I? No no no, there's not enough time, not enough room, not enough...oh why don't I just run through a brief list for you?

Princess Trixie and your precious little Gap-clad child in stroller, if I hold the door for you at Starbucks, a "thank you" will do. However, when you look at me like it's my duty and don't say jack, then I feel the need to accidentally spill my mocha on aforementioned child (it's cold people, relax.)

Diddy, or P Diddy, or Sean, or Puffy or...'nuff said.

Jennifer Love Hewitt. I don't dislike you. I don't hate you. I don't abhor you. I dishatabhor you. I once heard you complain that all actresses are getting jobs in the movies ahead of you. Explanation: people dishatabhor you.

Hummers. These are a great idea. If you are Arnold Schwarzenegger, living in the desert, saving Salma Hayek from alien monsters with super human strength. But if your name is Biff and you drive back and forth to the local Musicland to purchase the hot new CD by Creed/Nickelback, you most likely don’t need a Hummer.

Ok, enough about me. I hope that you feel closer to me now, because all I really want to be is loved. And if you disagree with any of my rants, I feel bad, but just for a second. Then I will jot your name down to be a subject of the inevitable sequel to this, my first blog post.


Our guest blogger, The Notorious J.O.E. doesn’t really hate people. He just really, really, really doesn’t like you.

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