Shiznit and Innocence

10:15pm and sipping on a glass of wine.

The past month has been all about work- starting a new schedule and putting up with new employees. One is arrogant and stuck up, but tolerable, the other is a lazy backstabber. The lazy backstabber is a pathetic excuse for a manager who pronounces his Filipino last name with a laid back drawl that slaps his heritage in the face. Someone needs to bitch slap him back for his lack of office restroom etiquette.

He literally shit on himself last weekend. Going into the office last Saturday was like walking into a dumpster filled with skunks and rotten eggs. As I walked in, I could hear the restroom fans running and the stench somehow seeped through the door and was already circulating the back office. In a small office, it doesn't take an idiot to figure out that someone is doing the doo. I could give a damn whenever someone does, but his total lack of courtesy was just nonexistent. Hell, I could give a damn if someone shits in their boxers; just be discreet and do something about it! It was obvious this guy had the nightmare of a diarrhea accident come to life. Aside from the evident smell whenever he walked by, or to bend over to get his work out of the printer near my desk (God gave you knees for a reason, save your back from breaking and don't point your filthy ass in the air for the world to smell) he sat on his side on one ass cheek all day, the restroom wastebasket was filled with wet toilet paper and the handsoap was all gone. Now if I were to take a half naked waist down sponge bath in a shared restroom like this fool obviously did, I would at least have the decency to flush the foulness down the toilet where it belongs instead of leaving it in the garbage to welcome the rest of us to skid mark city. And there's four cans of aerosol freshener in there at your disposal... use it damnit!

It's summer and I think my skin is getting darker. My days off are always started with a long jog under the sun around Shoreline Park. The park is usually quiet when I go except for the ducks and the bus loads of summer camp kids waiting to go in a canoe or kayak. The innocence of a child is amazing. What they speak of is always the truth since they only know what they hear and see until the day that white lies surface as a cover for mistakes. My son Nico is still a truthsayer and what he speaks of is a repetition of what he overhears from his grandparents. These are things that were never taught but were heard and remembered. On a recent trip to the grocery store he saw a woman looking for her brand of deoderant only to end up knocking the shelf contents to the floor, and apparently all Nico could say was, "What the hell...?" in his little 3 year old voice. He even says "Stupid driver!" when his grandpa has to slam on the brakes because of bad drivers. And when he attended a funeral with my parents, he saw candles being lit and started singing "Happy Birthday to You", told everyone that Jesus wore a seatbelt on the cross simply because of the cloth that runs across His chest, and when he was told to greet the Father, or priest, all he could say was "You're not Father, Papa is father!" as he pointed to his grandpa. Sometimes you wish a child would stay this way and it wouldn't matter whether or not they knew the difference between right or wrong, but would just remain innocent. Then again...

...I finally bought City of God on DVD after waiting months for its release, only to be pulled off the shelf and finally rereleased five months later. This has to be one of the most amazing films I've ever seen and recommend it to everyone even though it can be quite disturbing. The innocence of children is put on display here as they grow up in the ghettos of Brazil where gang warfare is the only means of life that they know...

Still sipping wine...I've got my buzz on... listening to Bliss from Ilya, real passionate wine drunk, jazzy flavor...I need a smoke...I'm out...