Tuesday, August 30, 2011

a quick note about work...

seriously, this is what it is like where i work now.

yes party people, i found a new gig, in the fashion industry, and no i do not fold khakis at the gap. and it is completely different. i mean, i went from contemplating a kevlar vest as a daily fashion choice to butterflies and rainbows. and trust me, that shite took some getting used to. i actually heard someone say "you know, i go home every day with a smile on my face! i just love it here!" and literally, my first thought was "is she mental? nobody goes home in a good mood!" however, i have to admit that i really like this place. and i do come home in a pretty good mood. and all of my managers are way cool, so far. but don't think that this will bring an end to my scathing reports on dumb shite. come on... you know me better than that. and yes, i did remove those vicious posts about my former place of employment because i felt guilty. but i don't work there anymore, do i? i will work on getting those re-published...

thank you for your time,
tym

the m factor.

not her


...and not them.

ladies and gentlemen, the young man is back on his bs. it has been a little while, i know, but i'm here now, right? why you gotta talk about old stuff? anyhoo...

i'd like to formally apologize for the barrage of foul language that is on its way out of my head and onto your screen. parental discretion iz advized, word to n.w.a. and if this is boring to you, again i apologize. this one is for me.

today's subject: the m factor. the m factor has nothing to do with james bond's boss, nor the 80s band that made pop muzik. no, this m factor is a phenomenon that has, unbeknownst to me, clouded my mind since... wait for it... 1984, word to george orwell. however this has nothing to do with big brother. at least not my big brother. he's a preacher in arkansas. but that's neither here nor there. ah, a.d.d. but back to the subject at hand.

the m factor has been referred to in some of my earlier blog posts as my inner hater, that little voice in my head that reminds me how awful of a person/creator/writer/husband/father i am, and how nobody cares for me, word to david lee roth. i have done many things to try to counter this voice, but to no avail. the m factor (as it is now called) was a phenomenon that i couldn't understand. that is until last week, on a long overdue date night with mrs. young man. the mrs. and i had just sat down to some excellent mexican food, and were just chatting away. the mrs. stopped me and said "i have to tell you something, and i have needed to tell you this for quite a while. everytime you talk about that voice in your head, all i can think is that the things that voice says sound an awful lot like the things m------ used to say to you..." that m------ is my ex-wife, the spawn. although a big part of me wants to display her full name, social security number and directions to her house, out of respect i will refer to her only as m. yet, i have no respect for her. she is/was an evil person. she shares the same birthday as adolph hitler. coincidence? i think not. is it obvious that i don't really care for this woman? no? keep reading...

when the mrs. pointed that out to me, i was floored, because it was the truth. this b--ch has had a mental hold on me since we started dating in 1984, and i never realized it. we have been divorced since 1997, but my self esteem has taken a daily hit since her sloven ass infiltrated my brain. and unfortunately, the mrs has had to deal with this f-cking cow for the past 16 or so years, through me. i felt horrible when this came to light. then i just felt angry. i thought i was through with this broad when my divorce was final, only to realize this much later in life that she was still there. she kept me in a state of perpetual eeyore all through high school and college, yet i married her anyway. granted, this state i was in was as much my fault as it was hers, but come on - she knew what she was doing to me, she knew where my esteem was, yet she took advantage of it if only to make her bloated ass feel better about herself. my self esteem was way low, and thanks to her, i was convinced she was the only one who wanted me. how wrong i was... i was/am a sexy beast! her? just a beast.

anyhow, i am using this platform to deal with this revelation, instead of a platform involving either vodka and pain killers, or firearms and camouflage clothing. now that it has been addressed, i'd like to officially bid her fat ass a fond "get thef--k out of my head." i wish you nothing but the worst.

the young man is on the road to peace. and to being his true larger than life self, as seen in this billboard

:

thank you for your time.
-tym