So, I decided to go on a few job interviews. Did I need a job? No. But I figured it would pass the time. So, I came up with some great one liners to try out when being interviewed.
Q: So, what would you say is your best quality?
"Taste. I taste fantastic."
"I don't steal like the other people."
"Cable TV?"
"I'm Batman."
"My best quality is better than my good quality, and much better than my worst quality."
"My tireless ability to sabotage everyone."
"I burp names backwards. Lwohsa!"
Q: What is your greatest weakness?
"My volcanic temper, why?"
"Magnets. They make me weak."
"I get caught up in the sodomy thing a lot..."
"Zoltar has no weaknesses."
"You."
"I can't paint portraits very well."
"I refure to towel. Air Dry Only."
Q: Why do you want to work for this company?
"I'm looking for that special someone."
"Free lube."
"I'm planning an insurance scam."
"The Doctor said I could."
"So I can prove the parole board wrong."
"Spicy Taco Fridays."
Q: Why did you leave your last job?
"It was crowded."
"I left? SHIT!"
"I couldn't hide all the bodies."
"I spit on the Boss's kid."
"I got FIRED!!! WHOOOO!!!!"
"Oh. I should have asked them, eh?"
"I had bees."
"Men's Room Fight Club."
Q: When can you start?
"As soon as you stop."
"No no no. Only if you tell me I'm hired first."
"I can't. Makes this kinda pointless I guess."
"As soon as the meth wears off, Cochese."
"That's a secret. I'll tell you for a dollar."
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Death of a Colony
The Grill. Man's (occasionally woman's) domain. The Grill sits on the patio or porch or deck outside, waiting. It calls to the very soul of a man. This man.
I have a Weber Genesis with a two parallel pipe burner setup, with ignition flow, one push start, heavy iron glazed grate, flavor enhancing super V drip distributors, a grease trap and and a drip bin. It's not the classic brushed stainless steel, but it's a black beast and has no cold spots. I've had it for 4 years and it looks brand new.
I had a Charbroil once. Once. That piece of crap did it's job but rusted through. The Weber is THE Grill. And I have the third smallest of the brand.
So, imagine this. Mrs. Dr. Murk wants burgers and dogs. We always open the season with burgers and dogs. I brush off the grate, heat the bad boy up, and then use the first run of burgers and dogs to re-season the Grill. Much like a good Wok, a Grill should never be extensively cleaned on the inside, just brushed up a bit. Sure, you clean the grease trap and catch pans, but animal fat acts like a polish (protecting from rust) and a thin, non stick barrier for cooking. When heated, animal fat is detoxified. Much like cooking oil and olive oil, it really doesn't rot or go bad. If heated, it's cleaned.
So, I go out to the Grill (way too late in the season, I admit, but still 5 months left) and open it. A quick brushing, clean the traps, ignite and let it self clean by closing the top. After two minutes, temp is up a but. I'm curious and so I open for a look.
I see the nests. Three Paper Wasp nests, now on full alert and scrambling fighters for action.
Oh no, you just fucked up, I though. No, not me. Them. I closed the lid and cranked and got her up to 450 degrees. Two escaped. Both stung me. Mother-fuckers. I back away. The escapees (remember, wasps can sting and sting and sting and not die) keep banging into the Grill trying to save their kin. Try little bastards! TRY!
Smoke and the smell of rendering animal juices floods the air. It's that smell when a neighbor is grilling a feast, and you have your windows open and you BEG for an invite. Oh... and my two enemies still try relentlessly to save their friends while I listen to a few small but satisfying pops and wasps drop into the fire.
Five minutes passes.
I open the lid. I knock the golf ball shaped nests into the flames as the wasp twins look on, baffled. The pheromones say attack. The smoke says run. The instinct says HOME IS BURNING.
I let them live.
I have Koi and Frogs aplenty in my little pond behind the Grill. The Koi are fed nothing. Sometimes, a piece of meat or some steak juices. As I hear the Frogs call out to me tonight, I know the other two wasps will be found and eaten. No home to go to. Patient frogs. Descendants of the Great Wasp Killer Uncle Freddy, who devoured an entire nest while I watched during my first night on that deck.
Life is fragile, and sweet.
I have a Weber Genesis with a two parallel pipe burner setup, with ignition flow, one push start, heavy iron glazed grate, flavor enhancing super V drip distributors, a grease trap and and a drip bin. It's not the classic brushed stainless steel, but it's a black beast and has no cold spots. I've had it for 4 years and it looks brand new.
I had a Charbroil once. Once. That piece of crap did it's job but rusted through. The Weber is THE Grill. And I have the third smallest of the brand.
So, imagine this. Mrs. Dr. Murk wants burgers and dogs. We always open the season with burgers and dogs. I brush off the grate, heat the bad boy up, and then use the first run of burgers and dogs to re-season the Grill. Much like a good Wok, a Grill should never be extensively cleaned on the inside, just brushed up a bit. Sure, you clean the grease trap and catch pans, but animal fat acts like a polish (protecting from rust) and a thin, non stick barrier for cooking. When heated, animal fat is detoxified. Much like cooking oil and olive oil, it really doesn't rot or go bad. If heated, it's cleaned.
So, I go out to the Grill (way too late in the season, I admit, but still 5 months left) and open it. A quick brushing, clean the traps, ignite and let it self clean by closing the top. After two minutes, temp is up a but. I'm curious and so I open for a look.
I see the nests. Three Paper Wasp nests, now on full alert and scrambling fighters for action.
Oh no, you just fucked up, I though. No, not me. Them. I closed the lid and cranked and got her up to 450 degrees. Two escaped. Both stung me. Mother-fuckers. I back away. The escapees (remember, wasps can sting and sting and sting and not die) keep banging into the Grill trying to save their kin. Try little bastards! TRY!
Smoke and the smell of rendering animal juices floods the air. It's that smell when a neighbor is grilling a feast, and you have your windows open and you BEG for an invite. Oh... and my two enemies still try relentlessly to save their friends while I listen to a few small but satisfying pops and wasps drop into the fire.
Five minutes passes.
I open the lid. I knock the golf ball shaped nests into the flames as the wasp twins look on, baffled. The pheromones say attack. The smoke says run. The instinct says HOME IS BURNING.
I let them live.
I have Koi and Frogs aplenty in my little pond behind the Grill. The Koi are fed nothing. Sometimes, a piece of meat or some steak juices. As I hear the Frogs call out to me tonight, I know the other two wasps will be found and eaten. No home to go to. Patient frogs. Descendants of the Great Wasp Killer Uncle Freddy, who devoured an entire nest while I watched during my first night on that deck.
Life is fragile, and sweet.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Happy Father's Day
Papa Murk is an extraordinary man. I know his mind and I know what he did for me and my brother. Mama Murk did the same. They both continue.
Papa Murk's story is one of pain, despair and redemtion. I can't express in words my pride when I think of my Dad. He taught me things that have kept me from running off into the wood. He know what I suffer now, as he has suffered it before.
He was strick, but we were wild kids. We make him proud now and he tells us. To hear that from one of the ultimate warriors in life makes me feel superhuman, and humbled.
He almost died and came back for us (the family and has survived for over a decade on sheer will and faith in a higher plan. I follow his (and my mother's example) every day. I live in the moment (I TRY) and I live to make them proud.
But my father and I have fought tooth and nail over many things. I'm stubborn and he's stubborn and we don't always agree. But we always come back to being friends and supporters. I admit, he was right almost every time we disagreed and could have saved myself a lot of grief.
My Dad outranks any dad on the plannet. Not all sons will say that and some will even blame their fathers.
Dad, I never blamed you. We had no money, but we traveled, had an RV, cool cars, free repairs and tons of advice. We went to private schools while Mom worked and Dad suffered something he and I only truly understand and now we compare and heal each other.
I love you Dad and I'm proud of you.
Okay, now the rest of you suckbags need to bow to my Dad and get off your fat asses and tell your dads what the mean. My Dad lost his before he got to tell him. Don't make that mistake. Don't be stubborn dicks. Father's day is not about presents, but recognizing the trials and pain parents suffer for their kids. Fuck you people and your self centered pity and blame.
Give gratitude to Dads!
Papa Murk's story is one of pain, despair and redemtion. I can't express in words my pride when I think of my Dad. He taught me things that have kept me from running off into the wood. He know what I suffer now, as he has suffered it before.
He was strick, but we were wild kids. We make him proud now and he tells us. To hear that from one of the ultimate warriors in life makes me feel superhuman, and humbled.
He almost died and came back for us (the family and has survived for over a decade on sheer will and faith in a higher plan. I follow his (and my mother's example) every day. I live in the moment (I TRY) and I live to make them proud.
But my father and I have fought tooth and nail over many things. I'm stubborn and he's stubborn and we don't always agree. But we always come back to being friends and supporters. I admit, he was right almost every time we disagreed and could have saved myself a lot of grief.
My Dad outranks any dad on the plannet. Not all sons will say that and some will even blame their fathers.
Dad, I never blamed you. We had no money, but we traveled, had an RV, cool cars, free repairs and tons of advice. We went to private schools while Mom worked and Dad suffered something he and I only truly understand and now we compare and heal each other.
I love you Dad and I'm proud of you.
Okay, now the rest of you suckbags need to bow to my Dad and get off your fat asses and tell your dads what the mean. My Dad lost his before he got to tell him. Don't make that mistake. Don't be stubborn dicks. Father's day is not about presents, but recognizing the trials and pain parents suffer for their kids. Fuck you people and your self centered pity and blame.
Give gratitude to Dads!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Go Choke Yourselves
I've come to realize that all men are stupid and all women are insane. Discuss.
Okay, the challenge is to prove me wrong. Use the comments section and I'll set up a poll. Look to the right.
Okay, the challenge is to prove me wrong. Use the comments section and I'll set up a poll. Look to the right.
Friday, June 6, 2008
The Boss
I am the boss of me, but have yu ever had a boss?
Then this is for you.
The Good Boss: Whether a pain in the ass or a civil role model, the godd boss gets the job done, corrects problems efficiently and with proper emotional control, and takes the heat for how the business runs.
Nobody is really a good boss anymore. There's something bout the old addage that management cannot be taught. Unfortunately, bosses seem to get jobs for sitting in a classroom learning how things never really work in the real world. Very few independent bosses/owners are popping up from the school of sink or swim in the real workplace. More and more bad bosses are out there.
1. They are taught to delegate, but not to trust.
2. They are taught to foster independence, but blame for failure due to independent thinking.
3. They are taught to be proactive, but not when to leave a good thing going.
4. They are taught to demand accountability, but not how to accept the responsibility for their own mistakes.
5. They are taught finance, but not how to understand the intagibles of cash flow.
6. They are taught to rationalize, but they are ruled by emotions.
The end for now.
Then this is for you.
The Good Boss: Whether a pain in the ass or a civil role model, the godd boss gets the job done, corrects problems efficiently and with proper emotional control, and takes the heat for how the business runs.
Nobody is really a good boss anymore. There's something bout the old addage that management cannot be taught. Unfortunately, bosses seem to get jobs for sitting in a classroom learning how things never really work in the real world. Very few independent bosses/owners are popping up from the school of sink or swim in the real workplace. More and more bad bosses are out there.
1. They are taught to delegate, but not to trust.
2. They are taught to foster independence, but blame for failure due to independent thinking.
3. They are taught to be proactive, but not when to leave a good thing going.
4. They are taught to demand accountability, but not how to accept the responsibility for their own mistakes.
5. They are taught finance, but not how to understand the intagibles of cash flow.
6. They are taught to rationalize, but they are ruled by emotions.
The end for now.
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