Somebody call my mama, these legs are registered weapons

That’s right. Two-time! Two-time! Zombie run winnar!

So while I nurse my sore limbs and achy body parts, let me reminisce about the Atlanta chapter of the zombie run. Despite my trepidations going into the event, I can pretty easily say that I had a good of time as I did in Maryland, despite my reluctance up there too. If anything, I would venture to say that it was more fun than the first, for a myriad of reasoning.

Without much argument, the Atlanta zombie run was executed a million times better than the Maryland one. Granted, the Maryland zombie run back in October had the dubious task of being the inaugural event in which the bar was set, and all its failures and successes were what all the other chapters were to build off of, but the parking debacle and the tedious shuttling really, really hurt it badly. Whether it was superior planning or luck of the draw, Georgia’s venue for the event was far superior in the fact that there was plenty of on-site parking and no shuttles were necessary, and the local police appeared to be in cooperation and ready to deal with the traffic jams that never happened, probably because of the tornadoes or threat of them that ripped through the state the night before.

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Pussification of America: Umbrellas on sunny days

Working in the city, I see my fair share of people walking around on the streets, as feet are the economically logical, and often times the most efficient way to get from point A to point B, inside of a city.  Other times, it’s street rats who can’t afford cars, and have no other alternative methods of travel, but that’s a different story.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that for the second year in a row, it’s pretty much been the hottest fucking summer ever.  But unlike last year, which was mostly just numerous 100-degree weather days, at least is the case here in Georgia, it’s just crippling humidity, day-in, and day-out.  Regardless of how it’s the hottest fucking summer ever this year, one thing that remains the same is the fact that there have been their share of really, really beaming sunny days.

In light of such sunlight, I’ve noticed that people nowadays are equipping themselves with umbrellas, in order to walk around in the daytime.  Seriously?

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Sounds about right

As of right now, I’ve missed six flights back to Atlanta, and I’m currently stranded at Reagan National Airport.  The storms I narrowly avoided leaving Atlanta on Friday ultimately caught up with me on Saturday, and in the process forced pretty much every airline to cancel flights left and right, to which the continuous backlash of such backlogging is striking me with much vengeance at this very moment.  I predict I will miss a total of twelve flights by the time I’m able to get through.  Thankfully I have plenty to read, and the requisite internet access to bitch and moan about how much my April’s been sucking.

Needless to say, without question, I won’t be able to make it back to Atlanta in time for me to actually do any work that I’d get paid to do.  I have the option of calling my mom and having her get me out of here until a later time when every single flight doesn’t have 50+ other stranded passengers waiting to get on, but to be perfectly honest, I’d rather wait here at the airport.  It’s barely more comfortable here than it is at my parents’ house.

Welp

10 minutes outside of Hagerstown, the Twitter page for the Hagerstown Suns finally breaks the news that the game I was going to go to was postponed until tomorrow.  The bad news is that I wasted a trip out to Hagersfuck for absolutely nothing, except maybe some fried brownie bites.  The good news is that my tickets are still good for tomorrow for a double header.  The bad news is that if I want to watch baseball tomorrow, I have to make another trip out to Hagersfuck.  I’d rather not spend hours of awkward silence with my dad again, and I’m actually debating on going up there on my own, and eating the cost of the second ticket for my own sanity.  Anyone out there left in this area want to go blown an afternoon watching me a baseball nerd in Hagersfuck, Maryland?

Is it really that difficult

Three times out of four, whenever someone asks me to look at their computer, because there’s something that feels wrong, one of the first things I notice is that their virus protection is out of date, and/or there are critical Windows updates that have gone completely neglected, many of which involve important listed security updates.

Two times out of two, when it pertains to my parents, the neglect has gone way too long, and both machines are plagued with viruses, and/or rootkits that have run so rampant, that they’re pretty much doing their usual pain-in-the-ass job and preventing any scans from running, let alone detecting them.

At the rate things are going now, the game I want to go see tonight will be canceled by rain, the Braves will lose both games to the Mets, I’ll have a hellacious time trying to get back to Atlanta, and my new car will have a window smashed, doors keyed, be on blocks, and radio ripped out.

Not working as a result of SNOWPOCALYPSE: Day 5

Officially, with today nixed as well, Mother Nature has taken a net of $1,200 out of my pocket this week.  It’s ironic how as children, we love the snow, and want nothing more than snow days to cancel school, and give us days off, but are completely oblivious to the grownups, whom like me, need it to not snow, so that they can work, in order to make a living and keep a roof over their heads.  As one with grownup responsibilities and concerns, I can sufficiently say, fuck snow days.

At least over the weekend, it is expected to surpass the 40F degree mark, meaning all this bloody ice all across Atlanta has a chance to actually melt now, and I’ve been informed that work is back on, as of Monday; it’s good/bad news, in that regard because bad, that this place doesn’t have off for Moloch, Jr. Day, but good, because I’m sick of not fucking working, and I can springboard that into a nice, full 40-hour work week.  The whole situation was kind of what I predicted; the roadways might have been mostly cleaned up, but the side streets to get to the office, and most importantly the mostly-covered, shaded, wooded parking lot of this place that is on several natural layers of hills, stairs, and asphalt had to have been turned into a parking lot of death through much of this week.  It’s slightly different than having to park on the curb when the driveway is too icy to traverse, because at this place of work, there is no metaphoric curb, or remotely close location to park and walk to the building – just hills.  And death.

In a twist of irony, I found another job lead that I think I could possibly get my foot in the door with – because I’ve been there before, as a freelancer.  Meaning, if I were to apply with this company, there’s about a 100% chance that the agency that initially placed me there for a paltry seven cumulative working days is going to c-block the whole thing by demanding a finder’s fee.  But I have to try anyway.

Not working as a result of SNOWPOCALYPSE: Day 4

Okay, today is bullshit. I went out driving yesterday, and sure, it’s hazardous in some spots, mostly near my home, but it’s definitely not impossible to get to work today. I’ve been calling my current place of work repeatedly, and as indicative by the lack of pickup at the reception desk, I have to assume that they’re closed, or at least only the overzealous who don’t live far are making it in, working independently. Yesterday, I drove around, and yes, it’s hazardous in some areas, but it’s by no means impossible to get around and about. Four fucking straight days of non-work (as of now), and I’m officially peeved about it.

In a bit of unintentional humor, while watching the news all morning long, gauging the condition of the streets and highways, I learned that it must suck to be the “social media coordinator” for Fox 5 Atlanta, when it comes to acknowledging birthdays of children in a city that’s like 97% black. It’s literally like the scene from Office Space where the Bobs can’t pronounce Samir’s last name, culminating in the classic “not gonna work here anymore” drop.

Happy birthday to Caden L, age 11!
Next up is Dee… on-tay W! Age 12. (D’ontae)
And then we have a happy birthday for…Kuh-lay-ee H, age 10 (Kalei)
Happy birthday, Lacy H, age 13.
Birthday wishes go out to…Shay…Quin-cee-ya W. (Shay’e-Quincya)

And finally, happy birthday to…Duh…zan-nee M. (Dazhan’e)

Seriously, it’s good that you don’t actually see his face when trying to read these names, because I’m sure he’s got the most irritated and agitated look on his face at all these names containing more accent marks and random apostrophes than a Spanish textbook. It’s like parents deliberately name their kids these weird names for the deliberate purpose so that they’re easy to cyber-stalk or monitor them on Facebook because they’re legitimately the only names on the entire planet spelled in such asinine manners.