The cubical jungle breeds strange officemates...
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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
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Wednesday, June 11, 2003
I heard ya missed me, I'm back....
I had to come out of retirement. I know, I know... I bid my tearful farewell and turned the reigns over to a new writer but sometimes, you just have to come out for one last hoorah. Now I don't mean in a Rolling Stones or Cher 34th annual farewell concert kind of way. I mean in a George Foreman 40 year old boxer proving he can still do it kind of way. That and I was lucky enough to have a conversation with Pete today that just had to go down in annals of Pete-dom. So I bring you...
Trailer park trials and tribulations....
Oh whatever is a poor good ol boy to do when the land barons start a fussin over what constitutes a trailer and what is a mobile home? As we all know Pete has his little bit of Redneck heaven out at the "huntin Chalet" in the woods. Well if you've been reading this you know that the chalet is an old camper with a wooden porch nailed to the front of it. This has been on that land for 30 years and was passed on to him by his dearly departed "Diddy." Well... It seems around "ten years er so" he bought the adjoining property to his when the folks "fell back on their taxes and the guv'ment went and took it back." So Pete went off to auction and picked it up "fer ten doller" (as we know Pete’s world has no plural) and commenced to joining it with his land. He went off to the commission and had the two lots turned in to one so he could pay less as one large lot than as two smaller ones. Surprisingly this makes sense but I won't go in to that.
Well now ten years later the land board has decided that his joined land is now only suitable for a trailer and his camper "don't count e'en though it shoulda been gran-fatherd in." So now they want more money and his camper moved. Judging by the folks in the "neighborhood" I'm sure the complaints are rolling in about the camper. "Hey kaint you do sumpin 'bout that Pete feller??? His trailer is trashin' up the neighborhood and makin' the Camara I got up on blocks in the front yard look trashy."
So what is Pete to do???
Why his off to fight the man! Go Pete Go!!!!!! Deliver a crushing blow for camper living folk everywhere. Show them you aren't gonna take it. It was pointed out to him that perhaps the corrupt landowners wanted a little something under the table. C'mon now we've all seen the movies. We know how land barons are always keeping the serfdom down unless you can offer a little kickback. Pete's reply was "Oh I'll givem sumpin unner the table all right. Sumpin called Smith and Wesson." Cool. We gonna have us an old south showdown! I can see it now, Pete in his overalls, corncob pipe clasped firmly in his teeth, toting a double barrel shotgun. Instructing the Missus to "Git our baby and stay inside. This could get nasty." Firing a few shots at them all the while screaming "Git offa my land you mangy Varmints!!!!" Why I may even help him with his last stand.... Naaaaaaaaaaah. It'd just be more fun to go over and video tape it. Well if all else fails on Friday he said he was just "gonna or-go-nize the rest of the trailer park and file them a class action law suit." Imagine that... Pete in a court battle.
Glad to know that in this crazy ever-changing world you can always count on one thing... No matter how long you stay away Pete will always be a dumb redneck and I... Well I will continue to be entertained.
11:10 AM
Monday, March 31, 2003
And so we reach the final curtain...
Well folks, it appears that progress has once again gotten in the way of my goof-off time. I have been moved to the opposite end of the building far way from the din of clippa clippa, clippa, and the droning southern drawl I had grown to love. But fear not fellow Pete-fans (I thought that sounded better than fellow Pete-ers) this blog is not dead... Oh no not by a long shot. For in to my little piece of cubicle moved the ottofsctott! Welcome him aboard as I pass the torch to him for updates. I'd like everyone to welcome him aboard. he has earned this spot if nothing else than by guilt of location. I leave here tearfully thinking of the times we shared and the laughs we had together. Why if it wasn't Cousin Juanita then it was ditch-witch's and jug fishin'. I have faith that the new writer will fearlessly lead us in to even bigger and better times with ol' Pete as I'm sure, with the new baby and all, Pete has plenty left to share with the world.
So I will not say goodbye only this...
I'll holler atcha as soon-aza cain!
12:46 PM
Monday, March 10, 2003
I'll admit... I got a little bored...
So I haven't updated this site since December. I felt, not unlike Pete, it was getting a bit long in the tooth. It seemed to get a bit redundant. I mean how long can you read this before the concept hits you over the head... OK OK We get it... Stupid redneck... talks all day on personal calls... enough already....
Well, it seems that I was wrong. I have received requests, both written a verbal to bring back Pete. It seems the "feller has done growed on folks" and everyone wants to know just what he will do next. So who am I to fight Pete's public, you asked for it... you got it. Without further ado I give you...
Oh LAWDY LAWDY!!!! I don't know nuthin bout birthin no babies.
Long time readers may recall that ol' Mrs Pete is pregnant. You may also recall that it had nothing to do with Pete. She went down to, as he put it, "One eight hunnert- who's yer diddy." Well, it seems that the joyous event is upon us as Mrs. Pete is due today. Well... "Sheet fyr n' save 'em matches." By close of business today Pete's gonna be a proud papa, again. This being said, I decided it would be rather funny if I poked a little fun at ol' Pete. Especially since he never would have guessed it came from me. So on Friday of last week I came in early and left him a little present. I searched and searched the web until I started uncovering news stories about artificial insemination "mix-ups" shall we say, that ended in white parents giving birth to black children. Turns out this is a lot more common then you could imagine. Frighteningly so. So with my malicious streak in full force and armed with word and a printer I proceeded to copy and paste a document together of every major news story I could find. Once the five pages were done I printed that sucker off and left it on his desk. So he would have a little light reading when he came in.
Now let's think about why this is so funny. I will put it in a mathematical equation just to show the science and logic in my humor.
Pete + Redneck + Redneck Wife + Huntin buddies + black child = Charter revoked from the Klan. (and hours of entertainment for the rest of us.)
Could you imagine the look on his face when he's down there waiting like a catcher for the perfect fastball when all of a sudden the pitcher throws him a curve? Oh MAN I'd kill to be in the delivery room if that happens. I can tell you right now that child would suddenly succumb to SIDS the second it was brought home. It's much easier to do that then explain why your child’s skin color is showing through his infant-sized white sheet jumper at the Klan rally.
10:45 AM
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
And here I'd thought we'd stepped into the duldrums...
WOW!!! That is all I can really say... wow. Rarely do things truly leave me speechless but on this occasion I have truly been stumped. I don't even have anything witty to say as I feel that anything I would add would merely detract from the conversation I heard today. So without further ado I give you the latest in the Pete saga. One I like to call...
Whip me, beat me. Make me write bad checks to the ex-wife...
"So lemme get this straight... Yer lookin fer one'a them Indianer Jones bull whips so's yer girlfren can tie you up and whup yer nekkid ass. Man o man... the truth fine'ly come out. You know what they call that doncha? BEEE and DEEEE... Bondage and discipline... thats when one's them there women gets all gussied up in black leather and hiiiiiiiii heals and comences ta' spankin ya...."
I can't make this stuff up folks...
2:15 PM
Monday, December 02, 2002
Think Globally Kill Locally
Well... Pete's been a'thinkin' it seems. Seeing as he has only killed a few small "dog sized" deer he has decided that he can no longer kill any more doe. It turns out that Pete has reasoned that if he continues to kill the doe's there won't be any buck to kill next year. Soooooooo that being said... Lets look at this in the "big picture" perspective. Pete was babbling on about how he was reading that when a doe has offspring they will all have twins... One male one female... twins eh? Well... we won't worry about that for now. So technically each deer will produce a member of the opposite sex in each birth. Imagine my shock to learn that deer always had twins!!! Think of the time this saves to get both kids out of the way in one swoop like that (given his track record ol' Pete could have learned a thing or two from the deer). So if you stop shooting the doe and stick to bucks then the doe's are free to go off and have more littl'ins... Wait... How does that work? If you leave all the females and kill off all the males then how is a doe supposed to procreate? Immaculate conception? Are we giving birth to the second coming? The veritable savior of the deer world? Bambis Christus? Just curious... So it appears there is a small hole that you could drive a Mack Truck through in his plan to only kill bucks. But given his track record for this season and the fact that he has added some technoligical gadgets (like I'm soooooo sure that works) to his death machine, I feel that the buck and for that matter any doe are pretty safe for the time being... Now hunting dogs on the other hand...
3:05 PM
Wednesday, October 30, 2002
Jumpsuits and Innuendos
Oh how I've missed the fun of sitting next to ol' Pete. The conversations have been strong and steady and in true Pete fashion have made little to no sense. We just had a nice one involving a jumpsuit. Now I'm not sure if this is the garden variety J.C. Penney kind or onea them there new fangled upscale dinner jumpsuits (does that guy have a fantastic mullet or what) but whatever the case Pete was kind enough to buy one for a friend of his and seems a bit hurt the man is not parading around daily in it. But let's be honest here. These are the kind of things you should only save for special occasions. After all, if you constantly wear jump suits people might get the wrong idea that you are some kind of jet-setting playboy mechanic. Lord knows the trouble that could cause. One minute your calmly sitting on your front porch whittlin' and the next thing you know BAM you're on a private jet to Milan to work on an Italian fashion designers Masserati. You can see how this might complicate your life. Pete knows this as he even recommended that his friend be laid to rest in it. Hey, it worked for Elvis. So this prompted a long discussion of the comforts of jumpsuits and I can just see the Pete family lounging around the Redneck Resort clad in their finest camo jumpsuits munching on "ol' Huntin' Dog Blue" jerky... but I digress. The best part of the conversation was the end not only is it a chilling visual that I probably could have gone the rest of my life without hearing but it is, drum roll please...
Pete-ism of the day!!!
"I don't like nothun tight... 'cept one thing. You know what I mean?
1:13 PM
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
Every now and then I have to work
I know ... I know... there has been "nary an update" in what seems like a "coons age" but what can I say work has kept me busy and unfortunately away from my desk. With not being around my little cubicle oasis I have been unable to hear the latest in Pete's saga. So yesterday I returned to a full day of boxed in bliss and OH what a day it was.
Kilt me some deers
Pete's been a busy little death machine recently! Bringing down his hail of gunfire justice on the evil woodland creatures that desecrate the sanctity of nature. He took the better part of last week off to go deer hunting at Presidents Island (see previous post Which Ditch to Ditch witch) of which turned out to be less then eventful for our fearless hunter-gatherer. He fared much better last weekend when he was able to "kilt him a couple deers" the as he put "field dressed out around 60 pounds." 60 pounds???!!! Call me kooky but a 60-pound deer is not a deer it's a medium sized dog. And since the thing had no antlers to speak of I'm not completely sure he didn't accidentally shoot one of his hunting dogs and to save face sheared it to look like a deer. Needless to say that when the "ho-made Deer Jerky" came in a few days later I was not exactly clamoring over the masses in line to get a taste.
It's a kill or be killed world folks...
Woof.
8:22 AM
Thursday, September 26, 2002
Stop all yer fussin an'a fuedin' an'a fightin' !
So many of you guys may have noticed I haven't updated in a while. This is for two reasons. One I've actually been doing quite a bit of work that has kept me away from desk and two, I've been trying to make heads or tails of the latest Pete extravaganza. Yesterday I achieved the grail. I now understand just what the hours upon hours of personal calls have been for this week... Huntin' Rights.
So it would appear that the huntin chalet has some competition. It comes in the form of an "Enterprizin' feller" looking to make cash instead of the sharing in the joy and excitement of getting liquored up and killing something. The bastard! It seems that what Pete has going on is almost like a hunting club. They rent land and plop the chalet on it then a bunch of guys (in this case 12) get together and pay "dues" each year to cover operating expenses. If you like killin' then I can't think of a better deal. Anyway, the problem starts when a few years ago one of his buddies decides he doesn't want to be a member of the redneck resort and starts buying up land around Pete's little corner of redneck heaven. He now owns the majority of the land there except for Pete and one other guy who sits smack dab in the middle of our little Hatfield and McCoys. Pete has been trying all week to get this poor landowner on the phone and "Plead his case" about the evils of big business taking over something as wholesome as a bunch of idiots with alcohol and guns killing anything that's not wearing day glow orange. Yesterday was the big day. He was finally able to get him on the phone after a week of leaving messages with his "Diddy" (This is one thing that just irritates me about the south. 50+ year old men running around saying "My Diddy this my Diddy that... " Arrrrrgh I don't think I have referred to my father as "Daddy" since I was two.) So Pete speaks with this poor fellow yesterday trying to sway him from selling his land to the "evil one" as all he cares about is cash. Pete made a convincing argument I must admit, "See... He got him bout fity or sity members an he chargin 'em all seben hunnert dollers to hunt on his land and be a member of his club, put pencil to paper on that'n an he makin a nice chunka change. . To top it all off he won't let us come within a hunnert yards'a his land and hunt." First off let me start by saying if I owned a Hunting Club (God forbid) and I was charging $700 dollars for people to be a member and have exclusive use of land I wouldn't let someone else hunt on it either. Secondly this is not the "evil one's" rule about the hundred yards, It's the LAW!
"A reminder to hunters: TCA Section 70-4-108. It is unlawful to hunt or shot at or chase or kill with or without dogs any wild animal, wild birds, or wildfowl on public lands and waters within 100 yards of a visible dwelling house, whether or not such a dwelling is on public or private lands, without the owner's permission. "
So Pete tried to sway this fellow and I can't say I'm conviced it worked. Hopefully our poor caught in the middle fellow has enough sense to go with the cash and get out before the ATF raids them all...
9:25 AM
Friday, September 20, 2002
Redneckin' or Rubberneckin'
Accidents Happen.
So given the fact that I am not in what I would classify as a Cosmopolitan city, I like many Americans, are confined to transporting ourselves to and fro inside shiny metal boxes (sorry Sting). We do not get the cool modes of transportation that are found in the New York’s and California’s or the great cities of the world. We have no public transportation or even the ability to successfully walk to a job. Instead we load ourselves up into giant gas guzzling SUV's gripping madly to the wheel desperately trying to fight off the road rage as some moron cuts us off in traffic. Day in and day out I seem to get stuck either behind some idiotic soccer mom in a suburban that can't seem to stay of the cell phone long enough to drop her child at little league or some 957 year old person that should not be behind the wheel to begin with (mainly because they can't see over the dashboard.) So what on earth you say, does this have to do with Pete? Well I'm getting to that. Yesterday I left work at my normal time. While driving down the road I happened to notice that in front of me was the big purple, yes I said purple, Barney mobile that is Pete's mode of transportation. He was just putting along down the street when I came up behind him. We were heading to an intersection when I noticed some action at the corner and realized we had stumbled on to a pretty bad wreck. We were both making a right hand turn onto the road when Pete came to a complete stop (now keep in mind that the wreck had blocked off all oncoming traffic so he could very clearly turn right and keep going.) As anyone who reads this little blog knows ... What fascinates Pete??? Why wanton death and destruction. And boy oh boy with three ambulances bodies strewn about the pavement and people being strapped to gurneys this just had it all. So after a few minutes (I kid you not he sat there for at least three minutes) he finally decided to move on after some friendly coaxing from our horns. So I must admit I was not in the least bit surprised to find our Boy rubberneckin'. What did surprise me came later.
So a few minutes down the road I lost track of Pete as we had moved on to a larger six-lane road. I came to a red light when much to my surprise I hear someone yelling my name.. "Beeel hey Beeel..." (for those of you that don't know my name is Bill) I roll down my window and see Pete leaning over the passenger side of the Barney-mobile "Dyu see that wreck back'ere? Maaaaaaaaan that was a bad'un. How many folks you figger was out layin in the street?" I just kind of stared in disbelief for a moment then reply. "Not real sure Pete. Didn't stick around long enough to count the bodies." He looked at me for a moment than replied. "Well it sure was a bad'un." Thankfully the light turned green and I was able to end our cross lane conversation on death and destruction. From what I understand this was not his typical route home... bet it will be from now on.
8:22 AM
Friday, September 13, 2002
Okree Fenokee
So one of our illustrious colleagues was kind enough to bring in a bag of Okra for those southerners that can't live without a nice weekly dose of Fried Okra So as Pete is want to do, this spawned a debate amongst office workers and Pete as to the pronunciation of Okra. So as we all know Pete likes to add various syllables or letters that just don't belong in words so Pete replied with "Okree." An office worker responded with "No that is Okra." Pete, not being one to deny his beer drinkin' animal killin' homosexual hatin' southern heritage lifestyle said "I don't know war yer from but round these parts we call that Okree!" Refusing to take part in any more idiocy I was proud to see our office mate back down and not add to any more silliness. I must admit though it does make me wonder who might be correct as she was born and raised here... I refused to comment as I'm still not one hundred percent sure just what Okra, or to be fair Okree, is exactly. And based off this description I'm not real sure I want to eat it.
"It contains a sticky, mucilaginous juice..." ?!?!?!? Ewwwwwwwwww... gross.
8:41 AM
Thursday, September 05, 2002
Redneck 'rithmatic
or... She's was only the farmers daughter but all the horse manure
Wow day in and day out I sit in constant amazement over Pete's excessive educational skills. It seems though that Pete's butchering of the English language is not where the idiocy stops. Math must not have been one of his stronger subjects...
So Pete decides it's time to spread a little "bio-logee" fertilizer around the huntin' chalet. He decided that since he and generally eleven of his friends use this as their killin' fields then everyone should chip in for the bag of fertilizer to spread around. Seems reasonable enough to me. Now I would like to repeat for you the conversation I heard as he was working out just what it was going to cost each of them.
"So lessee here. We gots one bag a' bio-logee ferty-lizer at sebendy dollars. an there are twelve a' us... So let's say each ona us chips in fie dollars. Lessee fie times two is ten. Put a zera down an carry the one fie plus one is six plus the one we carried is seben. So there we are sebendy dollars fer the fertilizer. So it will only cost us fie dollars each." Now at this point one of his "Huntin' Buddies" that works here comes over and asks what he's doing. He proceeds to tell him that he has "figgered out" what the fertilizer will cost each. He explains this whole process to the buddy who replys... That's only sixty bud. They have a minor debate on whether the 5 and the 1 are added together or times before adding. Finally, though I must admit I'm not sure he was convinced he was wrong, Pete concedes and allows the price to be driven up to ten dollars each. This way they also have gas money for "Haulin Sh!t" so to speak... So here's where it ought to get real good... Pete now has to call them all back and tell everyone the price has moved to ten...
Can't wait to hear his explanations...
12:54 PM
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Heeeeeeeeey Huuuuuuuuneeeeeeeeee
Baby talkin’ the child bride
Pete has taken to speaking with his wife more regularly. I guess with the impending little pseudo Pete on the way he feels they need to have a little more quality phone time during the work hours. I think it's great that he has taken such an interest in the latest child. It's nice to know that a man who has spread his seed with such frivolity and frequency that the act of having a baby can still bring excitement to his home. Now... that being said I would like to fill everyone in on the conversations with the wife...
You know what disgusts me? Baby talk. You know what disgusts me even more then that? Baby talk from a fifty something year old man with a southern accent directed at his wife. Now I will admit, she isn't that far removed from her teen years but come on people. How many times a day does one person need to listen to "Heeeeeeey Huuuuuuneeeee.... How's my wittle girl todays you feeweeen allwight? Make sure you get pwenty of sweep an I'll take care of you when i gets hoooome..." Yech! I think I liked it much more when he was calling to argue with her about not having a suitable meal prepared for him on his arrival home from a tough day of clipping his nails and filling in "Brother So and So" on his latest plans to shoot Bambi or his mother. Where is the good ol' Pete conversations we all know and love? Where is the tales of dead relatives and sudden illness that grip his silly world? Is this an example of what's to come? Am I to be relegated to spending the next eight or nine months listening to drippy baby talk???
Pwababwy...
8:18 AM
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Clippa Clippa Clippa pt 5
So it would seem a 3 day weekend was not nearly enough time for Pete to clip his nails. Now I will admit a busy three day weekend of hanging out at the Huntin' Chalet and jug fishing leaves very little time for personal grooming. Plus there was the whole "Red Wasp Incident" but more on that later. It would seem our boy Pete packed up the whole clan for a little R&R at his home away from home. A bonding session so to speak chock full of dead animals and tales of the glorious south. Amidst all the excitement I can see how something as time consuming, and believe if you heard him cut his nails for an hour in the morning you'd see it is time consuming, could not get done. After all there are only so many hours in the day.
The Red Wasp Incident or When Animals Attack
"There we was... comin up on a messa trees when my fren start ta move some branches aside. He come face to face with a Red Wasp nest the siza his head. Them lil' buggers was angry! They got him ona nose they got him ona hand. I wasn't sure what to do I didn't wanna be stung but I needed to help my fren. So's I paddled like a sumbitch got us the hell outa there. I knew we was in trouble though... As my fren was lergic to stings. So we rushed back to the trailer an pumped him fulla benadryl so's he would be allright."
Now let me finish this by saying that I am "lergic ta stings" and all the Benadryl in the world won't help me if I get stung. Obviously he wasn't too "lergic" or he would be dead.
Not that Pete wouldn't have a real fascinating story with that one.
10:09 AM
Monday, August 26, 2002
Which Ditch to Ditch Witch
I knew when last week offered little to no excitement in the world of Pete that Monday would have to just be an overflow of idiocy that could no longer be contained. I was not disappointed!
The weekend held many exciting times for Pete. It would seem that there were not enough power cables running to Pete's home, as his work shed did not have power. Now I ask you how can you field dress a rifle and sharpen the points on your favorite huntin' arrows without electricity!!! So Pete, in his infinite wisdom, took it upon himself to rent what is known as a "Ditch Witch." Once again I found myself not in the "know" when it came to heavy equipment. After all I'm a programmer not a construction worker. If you are interested in what one looks like you can head here. Something doesn't work I pay someone to fix it or I buy a new one but I'm getting a little off track here. So Pete rents one of these big monstrosities convinced he would plough the front yard and get it ready to have an electrician come in and run cable up to the shed. Now Pete being the nice guy that he is, decides he will do the same for his mother in law (as we all know she lives next door) so Pete runs, as he put it, "A thousand foot long three foot deep trench cutting a swath of earthen destruction as if the very pits of hell had bubbled up from the surface to lay waste to human kind. The beauty of the whole thing was as he made it over to the MIL's house he cut, now pay attention this is the good part, right through her main waterline. BWAAAAAA HAAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAA!!!! You know I never really understood what all those signs were I use to see in front of houses in rural areas that say "Call this number before you dig." Now I do and more importantly so does Pete!
GOOD NEWS!!!!!
Pete has been given his license to kill deer on President's Island!!!! For those of you not from west TN, President's Island is a HUGE industrial complex tucked away in a grouping of trees and lakes (let's face it if your going to get rid of industrial waste then what better place to do it in when you can pour it right into the Mississippi River or bury in some form of natural habitat. So they have decided to Grant ol' Pete the privilege of a new WMA license. So he will be able to proudly display his rack of eerily glowing antlers in his new recently powered shed. Then again if this is one of the first deer killed on President's Island (at least legally) that may be worthy of a dining room piece.
2:24 PM
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
Silence is golden
Pete has been unnervingly quiet the last few days. We've only caught bits and pieces here and there of the nonsensical ramblings that usually permeate the day like his aftershave and Ben gay. Yesterday we only had a brief message left for the lawyer describing how his daughter returned from the mother's with news of how the ex-Mrs. Pete (for the sake of typing I will now refer to all ex's as EMP followed by a roman numeral so she shall be EMP IV) has been rambling on about what a poor excuse for a father he was for taking her to the school the EMP IV did not want her to go to. So she had to pull her out in the middle of her day interrupting the spending of Pete's money. Sad sad sad... So as it appears messenger duty is squarely on the shoulders of Gooberette, I must admit some curiosity as to what she relays back to EMP IV on her return trips to her house. I can see it all now. "Mom, can I go meet some friends at the mall?" then she replies "Sure hon! Right after you tell me what that poor excuse for a husband and father said about me while you were there." So then the poor child looking for some form of sanctuary returns to Pete's for the weekend only to be bombarded with more of the same. "JoLeen and EllieMae said they were gonna meet Bubba and Bobby Joe up by the crik and watch 'em kill somethin' can I go?" and of course Pete replies "Sure Goeberette, riit afer you tell me what that slut ho of a momma a' yurs said bout me. Oh and take the 12 gauge it's got more killin power."
7:27 AM
Thursday, August 15, 2002
It just keeps getting better
So I didn't update yesterday. I must admit that it was not due to lack of material but more of a sudden emergence in morals on my part. I know I was just as shocked as you all are over that but apparently, at least for a day or so; I was locked in moral conflict over reporting the latest Pete escapade. I sat up the better part of a day and a half agonizing over what to do and what right I had to convey this particular Pete-ism to the rest of the world when suddenly it occurred to me. Screw him. He was the one that discussed this so that half of the office could hear him. He chose to make his personal life known in a public work place environment and I would be remiss if I did nor report to both my loyal readers the latest in what can only be called...
The crack pipe incident.
Yes indeedy folks seems our boy Goober has gotten himself into a whole heapa trouble! From what I understand based off of the phone conversation, He was back at the other ex-Mrs Pete's (not the current ex-Mrs Pete of custody battle fame) home when upon cleaning she happened upon a crack pipe in Goober's possessions. Yep that's what I said a crack pipe. Now even I, despite my bitterness and general ill will towards almost everyone, know that this is no laughing matter... Yet for some reason I just can't seem to stop laughing about it. I know it's wrong and I will probably end up blogging about the guy next to me in-between smoking my personal turd in hell for it, but I just can't say that I blame ol' Goober. I would want some form of escape myself. Now I will admit that crack is a little extreme but when you only make five dollars for cutting grass all day that is pretty much the only drug you have available to you. I know previously I tried to figure out what Goober could possibly do with five dollars and I guess I got my answer in the form of a "fie dolla rock." Now I do feel that in some way this is Pete's fault (mental cruelty from past divorces aside) I feel if Pete had just made sure Goober got a better rate when he was hiring him out for manual labor then perhaps Goober could do better drugs. Maybe if he could have made say 20 dollars a yard he might have been able to move on to such designer drugs as ecstasy or acid. Can't you see it??? Goober the club kid hanging out at raves till all hours of the evening green glow stick in one hand pacifier in the other... But alas it was not to be. Poor goober was relegated by his lack of income and poor business management to crack. Sad.
The latest though is the story he fed his mom. He claims that his friend’s father was doing drugs and in an effort to help said he would help his friend steal the crack pipe and just "forgot to dispose of it." Yeah and the Holocaust killed off a few people. So now Goober is placed in a situation where Pete is picking him up from the airport and immediately taking him to get drug tested. I only hope for Goober's sake it comes out negative.
This is your brain. This is your brain in Pete's household...
Any questions?
10:48 AM
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Clippa Clippa Clippa Pt 4
The familiar sound resonates through the office. Imagine a whole week with no "Clippa." It was an eerie silence that seemed to just leave everything a little askew. Like perhaps all was not right with the world. That has all changed though as Pete is back. Unfortunately the judge was not on the bench last week and he was unable to continue the custody battle. This means he will have to reschedule the mental scarring of little "Gobberette" for a later time. So what did Pete do with his week off you ask? Why jug fishin' of course. He and Goober went off for some bonding before returning home so Goober could begin his first of several senior years at school.
As for "Gooberette?" She was sent to school on Monday to the one Pete felt she needed to attend. To which the ex-Mrs. Pete promptly drove up to the school jerked the daughter out of class and transferred her to the school she felt she should go to. Man these people kill me. What are they thinking? Oh yeah... their not.
8:34 AM
PETE IS BACK!!!
Just when I think he can no longer amaze me Pete does something so extraordinary that even I am left with moments where I am unable to speak. I just received an email, as did the entire office, that reads:
"August 16, 1977. I had just walked off the 18th green, heading for the clubhouse at Glen Eagle, NAS Memphis, when a buddy of mine came running out and said, "hey - did you hear what happened? - Elvis died!" I sank to my knees in shock and disbelief. "No, say it ain't so!" I replied. But, alas, it was true. The King was gone.
Now, 25 years later, we gather together to honor the King of Rock & Roll, Elvis Presley. Please join me and Mark 'Tiny Elvis' this Thursday, for a teary-eyed evening with the throng of the faithful at the Candlelight Vigil. It'll be HUGE, Baby!
TCB"
Wow what can I say? For a moment there I must admit I was touched. To think all this time Pete was really a feeling caring fan of "The King." Then I went wait a minute... The King is dead right? And what fascinates Pete? DEAD PEOPLE!!!! He's kind of like the adult version of the kid from Sixth Sense. I can see him huddled in his bed fear mixed with delight as his frozen breath hangs in the air... "I see dead people."
8:06 AM
Tuesday, August 06, 2002
A whole week without Pete?!?!?!?
Whatever shall I do?
So Pete is off to face the courts and dish out a crushing blow to the ex in what hopes to be a triumphant ruling on behalf of moronic ex-husbands everywhere! I wish him luck for at last conversation before taking off to spend my tax dollars in needless court battles, he mentioned that his lawyer had said that they could both get thrown in jail for a few days by ignoring a court order to not discuss any aspect of the divorce or custody battle with the daughter. As anyone who has read this silliness knows neither have done that and, as a matter of fact, they have actually gone out of their way to bring her into the middle of this little (and I do mean little) battle of wits. So where will all this go how will the final ruling come about and more importantly what deep emotional scars will be gashed across the psyche of "Gooberette" (I can only assume that's his nickname for her)? There is a part of me, as awful as it must sound, that really wishes I could sit in on the court proceedings. I'd just love to know what they say and how this whole sordid mess will come to a head. I could only assume that the collective brain power of our two good folks could possibly toast some bread and that in and of itself could lead to some very entertaining moments. "Yer honer my ex wife is clearly a whore and I jist don wanna see gooberette grow up in that en-VI-RO-ment." then the ex chides back with "I'd done rather be a whore thena flacid ol' freak what can't luv me up right!!" Suddenly it comes to fisticuffs and Rusty the bailiff has to separate them as poor Gooberette looks on in horror. These folks need a nice dose of Judge Judy. She'd set em straight! So I guess no updates for a week unless I get any good info before then!
8:12 AM
Monday, August 05, 2002
Praise the lord and pass the ammunition!
Killin' things and cemetery hoppin' with the Pete family
Pete has an unhealthy fascination with his deceased father. There I said it. I wasn't going to but I just couldn't help it. There are just too many weird things going on to not bring this up. I don't know what flips me out more the fact that his computer wallpaper is a daily changing image of his father or the "dead daddy" screen saver that comes on when his system is left idle. The scariest part about the whole thing is the fact that all of the pictures that make up these desktop accessories are also framed and hanging in the cubicle. It's just creepy.
So Goober and Pete went this weekend to visit Dad's grave, as Goober had not seen it yet. This began a tour of dead Pete relatives that could rival the last "Stones" nationwide tour. They cut a path through Mississippi stopping off at any cemetery and taking in the wonders and joy that only dead relatives can bring. Oh to have been a fly in the truck for that one!
"Huntin'" season must be coming up as Pete and Goober discussed new and interesting ways to kill defenseless woodland creatures. The latest? Muzzle loaded weapons! Nothin' says gettin back to yer roots like firing off a lead ball from a black powder charge into the throat of Bambi. Yeeeee Haaaa!
11:39 AM
Friday, August 02, 2002
Look I already have to take care of her on the weekend...
and now yer telling me I may have to take her to school two days a week???
I feel for his daughter. No scathing satire of words today just pure pity. this poor girl is being drug into what can only be described as a brutal custody battle without any concern for the feelings or mental health of the daughter. Why do parents think it's OK to allow a child to be stuck in the middle of a battle between two adults who should leave anyone, especially the children, out of the war of words. this child didn't ask for this nor did she ask to be batted back and forth like a ping pong ball between two people who can't even be civil enough to get along or smart enough to realize that their own petty BS is doing more harm to their children then they could even possibly conceive. It truly is sad that two supposed adults can't work out their differences without having to pull a child into the mix as a bargaining chip. The divorce itself had to have been hard enough on the child and now having to play the mediator for two people that are acting more like children then the one they are fighting over has got to cause more mental strain than any 12 year old should ever have to endure. If I could I would collectively slap Pete and the Ex Mrs. Pete square in their pea heads. This is obviously not a battle about what's best for their daughter but a power struggle about who will come out on top. My only advice to Pete and his ex? Grow up you morons It's time to take some responsibility for your actions and leave your daughter alone. Whatever happened between you and your wife was just that, between you and your wife. Wake up putz and leave her alone.
10:43 AM
Wednesday, July 31, 2002
So how's your wife and my child?
The plot thickens!! It seems that my first report was not entirely accurate. Yes our beloved Pete is pregnant BUT (and here's where it gets good folks) The baby is not really his?!?!?!? Infidelity you ask? No my friends even better... SPERM BANK!!! See it turns out that I guess at some point during the last wife (3 or 4 I'm having a hard time keeping them straight) The then Mrs. Pete and he decided that he would get himself, as he put it, "snipped." Now as we all know due to the most recent court battles that marriage ended rather poorly and he was left as infertile as the Sahara. Now the new wife being the young philly that she is HAD to have a child and the newly streamlined Pete was unable to do more then shoot blanks with his "huntin' rifle of love" could not deny his blushing child bride the joy of having children and the thrill of suing him for child support later. So off they went to the ol' corner sperm bank to pick them up a little'n. Now I must admit I don't know the particulars of how this worked for themm or what exactly the screening process is but I guess they found some quality spooge and, baster in hand, commenced to impregnating Mrs Pete like basting a Thanksgiving turkey.
so where does this leave us and more importantly where does it leave the child? We now truly get to see the outcome of the age old nurture vs. nature argument. Can this child stand a chance at normal human evolution? Will his genes be strong enough to fight off the silliness that permeates Pete's life or will he be stuck with some kind of moronic nickname working as slave labor for the next mother-in-law? Only time and Darwin know for sure...
12:50 PM
I've been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding
Pete is going to be a proud Papa... again.
It seems that the new Mrs. Pete is at that special time in a womans life when the old biological clock starts ticking and the only way to satisfy is with a baby. Awwwwwwwwww. Now lets look at the big picture here. Pete is 52 his new wife is 32. They have just found out that she is pregnant so we have a good 7-8 months before the spawn of Pete graces us with its presence. So lets look at Pete first: Pete will be 58 when the kid starts kindergarten. When the kid graduates high school (provided this happens and given Goobers track record that is certainly up for debate) Pete will be 70. If the child goes to college and say, goes for a masters degree, Pete will be pushing 80. Now... I will admit that when and iff then new offspring gets married and has kids of its own it will be nice because not only will they be changing diapers on the baby but they'll get to do it for Pete as well. Maybe they can get some kind of volume discount from Pampers or something. I can just see it now "Honey, the baby needs changing oh and can you check your father too?"
That's a lot of strained peas folks...
9:12 AM
Monday, July 29, 2002
I've been added to the Pete Friends and Family Junk Mail list!!!
Here are few things Pete has sent me over the weeks.
Email 1:
1. Jesse Jackson, Jim Baker, and Jimmy Swaggert have written an impressive
new book. It's called "Ministers Do More Than Lay People"
2. Transvestite: a guy who likes to eat, drink and be Mary!
3. The difference between the Pope and your boss? The Pope only expects you
to kiss his ring.
4. My mind works like lightning. One brilliant flash and it is gone.
5. The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you're in the
bathroom.
6. I hate sex in the movies. Tried it once, the seat folded up, the drink
spilled and that ice, well it really chilled our mood.
7. It used to be only death and taxes were inevitable. Now, of course,
there's shipping and handling, too.
8. A husband is someone who after taking the trash out, gives the
impression he just cleaned the whole house.
9. My next house will have no kitchen---just vending machines and a large
trash can.
10. A blonde said, "I was worried that my mechanic might try to rip me off,
I was relieved when he told me all I needed was turn signal fluid."
11. I'm so depressed... My doctor refused to write me a prescription for
Viagra. He said it would be like putting a new flagpole on a condemned
building.
12. My neighbor was bit by a stray rabid dog. I went to see how he was and
found him writing frantically. I told him rabies could be cured and he
didn't have to worry about a will. He said, "Will!? What will? I'm making a
list of the people I wanna bite."
13. Definition of a teenager? God's punishment for enjoying sex.
Email 2:
COJONES
An American tourist went into a restaurant in a Spanish provincial city for dinner and asked to be served the specialty of the house. When the dish arrived, he asked what kind of meat it contained. "Sir, these are the cojones," the waiter replied.
"The what, you say?" exclaimed the tourist.
"They are testicles of the bull killed in the ring today," explained the waiter. "They are the delicacy of our country."
The tourist gulped, but tasted the dish anyway and found it delicious. Returning the following evening, he asked for the same dish. After he finished the meal, the tourist commented to the waiter: "Today's cojones are much smaller than the ones I had yesterday."
"True, sir," said the waiter, "You see, the bull, he does not always lose."
Email 3:
The Five Questions Most Feared By Men
The 5 questions most feared by men are:
1. What are you thinking about?
2. Do you love me?
3. Do I look fat?
4. Do you think she is prettier than me?
5. What would you do if I died?
What makes these questions so difficult is that every one is guaranteed to explode into a major argument if the man answers incorrectly (i.e., tells the truth). Therefore, as a public service, each question is analyzed below, along with possible Responses.
Question # 1: What are you thinking about?
The proper answer to this, of course, is: "I'm sorry if I've been pensive, dear. I was just reflecting on what a warm, wonderful, thoughtful, caring, intelligent woman you are, and how lucky I am to have met you."
This response obviously bears no resemblance to the true answer, which most likely is one of the
following:
a. Baseball.
b. Football.
c. How fat you are.
d. How much prettier she is than you.
e. How I would spend the insurance money if you died.
Perhaps the best response to this question was offered by Al Bundy, who once told Peg, "If I wanted you to know what I was thinking, I would be talking to you!"
Question # 2: Do you love me?
The proper response is: "YES!" or, if you feel a more detailed answer is in order, "Yes, dear." Inappropriate responses include:
a. Oh Yeah, shit loads.
b. Would it make you feel better if I said yes?
c. That depends on what you mean by love.
d. Does it matter?
e. Who, me?
Question # 3: Do I look fat?
The correct answer is an emphatic: "Of course not!" Among the incorrect answers are:
a. Compared to what?
b. I wouldn't call you fat, but you're not exactly thin.
c. A little extra weight looks good on you.
d. I've seen fatter.
e. Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.
Question # 4: Do you think she's prettier than me? Once again, the proper response is an emphatic: "Of course not!" Incorrect responses include:
a. Yes, but you have a better personality
b. Not prettier, but definitely thinner
c. Not as pretty as you when you were her age
d. Define pretty
e. Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.
Question # 5: What would you do if I died? A definite no-win question. (The real answer, of course, is "Buy a Corvette and an airplane") No matter how you answer this, be prepared for at least an hour of follow-up questions, usually along the these lines:
WOMAN: Would you get married again?
MAN: Definitely not!
WOMAN: Why not? Don't you like being married?
MAN: Of course I do.
WOMAN: Then why wouldn't you remarry?
MAN: Okay, I'd get married again.
WOMAN: You would? (with a hurtful look on her face)
WOMAN: Would you sleep with her in our bed?
MAN: Where else would we sleep?
WOMAN: Would you put away my pictures, and replace them with pictures of her?
MAN: That would seem like the proper thing to do.
WOMAN: And would you let her use my golf clubs?
MAN: She can't use them; she's left-handed
WOMAN: - - - silence - - -
MAN: Oh shit.
Email 4: And believe me this is the icing on the cake...
AND HE SENDS THESE TO ME AT WORK ON THE WORK ACCOUNT!?!?!?!?!?
4:10 PM
From Catfish to Cousin Juanita
Big weekend for Pete! Yessiree BOB! Seems our boy Pete packed goober and the wife and headed off to the quiet hunting chalet in the woods (which I have seen pictures of and the "chalet" is an old trailer with a wood porch nailed to it). They decided to "Jug Fish" for those of you not from the south (or at least not familiar with fishing jargon, I wasn't) "Jug Fishing" is the act of taking plastic milk or other jugs and making them airtight and tying strings with bait and hooks on them and tossing them out into a lake to catch fish while you go home and get tanked up on Silver Bullet. Now, being a northern city boy, I may be completely off base here but how is that fishing? You can throw hundreds of these things out into the lake disappear for hours then return to pull up dying fish that you didn't even have to fight for?? This is a sport? Surely not. To my surprise I found sites on it... www.bubbajug.com takes all kinds I guess. But anywhoo... It seems "he and goober caught themselves a big ol fie (I could have sworn there was a v in there somewhere) ponder cat." That they "et up" that night for dinner... nuff said.
Cousin Juanita died... Sorry to hear it but she'll be glad to know that her memory lives on in every call Pete makes today. Cousin Juanita was in her late 80's yet the hospital must surely be at fault somewhere. You don't get to be 89 years old to go and die of something as silly as old age it MUST be neglect. The Pete family laughs at OLD AGE BWAAA HAAA HAAA! The only way they die is a hospital has to kill them. My question though has always been, as every member of Pete's family that has died in a hospital, always went in "Health as an ox" and yet were always dead a few days or weeks later. Now if they were truly "Healthy as an Ox" Why the HELL were they in the hospital to begin with... Makes ya think...
3:24 PM
Friday, July 26, 2002
Clippa Clippa Clippa pt. 3
I came in 30 minutes late this morning and missed the nail clipping... For some strange reason I feel rather sad about it.. like perhaps my weekeend will be just a little off for missing the clippa ritual. We'll see if anything strange happens.
7:45 AM
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Goober Lawn Service. Coming soon to a Mother-in-law near you!
So it would seem Pete is renting out his son for manual labor and from the sound of things the price just can't be beat! The latest conversation set Pete and Goober on a lawnmowing escapade for the mother-in-law who lives next door. I may need to contract Goober for my lawn as he was told to "not tell 'er yer doin it just gwan over an do it an if'n she gives ya a couple or five dollers then you just smile an say thanky." WOW FIVE WHOLE DOLLARS!!!! Now... what can an 18 year old kid do with five whole dollars... Hell you can't even see a matinee at the movies for that. Big spenders in the world of Pete!
I wanted to bring this up as a reference to just what Pete is all about. Some people think I kid whan I say that he is infatuated with medical conditions and they just have to witness the conversations i am privy to. The other day he actually ended a conversation with "Now you call me if someone dies or somthin'."
I love people.
3:20 PM
Friday, July 19, 2002
We had our bonding session...
It wasn't quite as dramatic as I'd hoped but it existed none the less... I knew he wouldn't let me down.
So Exciting new developments in the world of Pete!!! It would appear his son (from what marriage number I'm not sure) is staying with him. It turns out that he will be a senior this year and might even graduate IF (and that's a mighty big IF) he can pass his junior year English AND his senior english....Now... call me kooky but if you couldn't pass junior English the first time, and now you have to take it over in combination with senior English what are the chances that either will receive a passing grade??? this makes no sense to me. I can just see them sitting around the dinner table talking "Now Goober (this is the pet name for his son) we had no idear you was havin' such a time with this ol' readin' an writin' thing... You do unnerstan' that Ah'm an english major right? Affer all I done took all my classes up yonder way the at the U-NI-versity... What you need to do is move in here wit us so we can lear ya up real good on how to speak an all... So momma an I decided you should take both yer englishes at the same time... Watcha think Goober? Sound like a plan?"
The whole time his new (very young) wife just sits to the side nodding approvingly and looking starry eyed into his face....
What a world...
7:48 AM
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
Clippa Clippa Clippa Pt. 2
So I missed Mondays nail clipping floorshow, but fortunately my team of agents is keeping me abreast of what goes on with Pete when I'm not around. From what I understand even management was confused as to the din of clipping coming from somewhere in the sea of cubicles... Clippa Clippa Clippa haunting all with its siren song of personal grooming.
Bonding with Pete through Personal Tragedy
I had to take the day off to take care of my terminally ill father. It was quite a fiasco over the weekend and I must admit the whole thing has pretty well worn me out. I was looking forward to my return on Tuesday as I thought for sure Pete and I could bond over my most recent family misfortune. After all, the tale includes so many aspects of what keeps him going, terminal illness, neglect from caregivers, even lawyers. Unfortunately it does not seem to be so...
My grandiose ideas of Pete and I sitting cubicle to cubicle discussing our most recent familiar ailments and issues, arm in arm as we went on about the current state of healthcare in America and the importance of a good lawyer... Actually ol' Pete has let me down today as I have not heard a single personal call either... but hey we all have our bad days I guess.
9:50 AM
Thursday, July 11, 2002
I'd buy that trailer from ya but I aint got no idear what its worth
AND THIS MAN IS A TECH WRITER!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!
8:49 AM
Clippa Clippa Clippa
Is it EVER appropriate to clip your nails at work? Pete thinks so and does it almost every day. Either he has so much calcium in his diet that his nails grow like mad overnite or he just doesn't have enough to do.
Clippa
Clippa
Clippa
The sound resonates through my head to the point that I can even hear it with my headphones on.
Oh goodie! we moved from nail clipping to a conversation (i knew Pete wouldn't let me down) those personal calls just keep coming. 8:28AM and already discussing health with the mysterious Mrs Pete. Get this... she says she's not feeling well... surprise surprise. Is there anyone in his family that is not suffering from some maildy? Doubtful. If you ask me they aren't happy unless their miserable. It would appear now we've moved on to a shopping list, door knobs and motion detectors???? What the HELL???? What are they planning? Some kind of Montanna like militia??? Who knows... More to come though as this is just the first call of the day... Stay tuned folks there has to be at least one lawyer call over the current custody battle with "ex number four."
8:34 AM
Wednesday, July 10, 2002
Who is Personal Call Pete?
and more importantly why do we care...
As do most folks in the world these days my office is a sea of cubicles. Little metal and felt boxes that help to give an illusion of "your office." For the most part it's not so bad. You can have some privacy and to a degree it does make work a little easier then sitting in an open classroom like setting and trying to have a phone call or write a document. I've worked very hard on my particular "home away from home" with decorations and toys befitting someone of my kooky nature. I enjoy it as much as anyone confined to a 4 by 8 false walled environment can, BUT... and you knew there was going to be one didn't you, someone always has to throw a baseball through the plate glass window of your sanctity...
Meet Personal Call Pete.
An older gentleman with a thick southern accent who spends the better part of his day discussing personal matters (some I would be embarrassed to even bring up with my doctor) on the phone with friends... LOUDLY.
At first I found the whole thing rather humorous and would regale my friends and families with Pete's sillier tales of woe and huntin' adventures. Now though... Now it's just gotten annoying. Day in and day out I listen to divorce and custody battles to strange growths and bowel problems. So I decided to take action... And this is that action. From this point on I will keep all interested parties up to date with Pete's current medical condition fascination and latest custody battle developments. I will rant and I will complain and I will do all of this because I can. Welcome to a new experiment in social critiquing. Here I will advise Pete on all the things he's doing wrong and quite frankly I can't say to his face. If anyone actually stumbles upon this may read and enjoy, but for those of you who know what I'm talking about and may have your own Pete take comfort in knowing you are not alone... You are not alone.
4:01 PM
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