Work update.

They moved me at work again. They moved us to the other side of the floor and I no longer sit next to douchenozzle. As Scott said, this guy seemed like good fodder for blog posts. Alas, he is now fodder for someone else. I will share my final douchenozzle story.

The guy is slightly chubby. He has mentioned several times that he is trying to be healthier. A few weeks ago he shared this revelation:

"Dude, I read that if you drink one less soda per day, in a year you lose 15 pounds, so I'm gonna cut back on soda."

Wow, thanks for sharing, professor. First of all, it's not that simple, but you had to actually read something to tell you that soda is bad for you? Using the art of basic arithmetic, let's look at the following:

(150 calories per soda)*(365 days) = (54,750 calories)
(54,750 calories)/(3,500 calories per pound) =

15.6 pounds.

It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. That's why everyone I know switched to the zero-calorie, diet version of soda a long time ago.

Want to know what he's drinking instead of soda?



120 calories, 33g carbs. Pepsi has 150 calories and 40g carbs. So at least he's saving 30 calories and 7 grams of carbs. Also, it's fat free.

The other day he ate lunch at his desk. He had a "salad." His salad consisted of a pile of iceberg lettuce covered in ranch dressing, shredded cheddar cheese, and croutons. It's salad, though, so it's healthy. I guess the water leaves cancel out the lard sauce.

Alas, he is no longer here to entertain me. Now I sit next to Juanita, the slender black woman. We kind of share a double cubicle. She's cool. She likes talking, though. That's good because I hate talking, but it's also bad because I hate talking. Also, she is under the impression that if one of us leaves to get food it is that person's responsibility to say: "Hey, I'm going to get food, do you want anything?" Sorry, that's not the way I roll. I have learned to never ask such a question because seven people always end up handing me their grocery list. I'm not a damn food courier.

In one area she has impressed me is she doesn't talk about herself. I have figured out that she eats really healthy and works out all the time and she doesn't drink pop. I toss back at least five Diet Pepsis a day and she hasn't said anything about it. Cool. Although it will only take her about 5 seconds to undo my impression. If she ever says anything like: "That pop is giving you cancer," she's goin' down.

She also doesn't know how to play internet. Yesterday she says: "I feel like seeing a movie tonight."

Me: "You feel like seeing a movie on a Monday?"
Her: "Yeah. Is that new Denzel movie out?"
Me: "Who's Denzel?"

(slight pause; for a half second she thinks I might
possibly be actually serious)

Me: "What's it called?"
Her: "I don't know."

(I proceed to play internet for 1.3 seconds)

Me: "It's called Deja Vu. It's not out yet."
Her: "Damn. What about that movie with Will Smith and his
son?"

(internet...1.3 seconds)

Me: "It's called Pursuit of Happyness. Comes out Dec. 15. They probably spelled 'happiness' wrong because black people are bad spellers.*"
Her: "Darn. What's playing then?"

(At this point she is staring over my shoulder. I go to
fandango.com.)

Her: "Fandang-what? What's that?"
Me: "You those commercials they play before every single movie with the talking bags that say 'fandango' repeatedly?"
Her: "Yeah."
Me: "Ummmm, okay. "
Her: "?"
Me: "So you've seen those commercials with the talking bags that say 'fandango'?"
Her: "Yeah."
Me: "It's a website. They sell movie tickets. I'm using it to look at movie schedules."
Her: "Oh. Dang. There's nothing I want to see."
Me: "That new Bond movie just came out. That looks good."
Her: "I don't really like James Bond type movies."
Me: "Oh really? I hear Omar Epps is playing James Bond. Also every computer at this company has the same internet. My computer isn't special."

*Okay, so I didn't say that part about black people being bad spellers or Omar Epps playing James Bond.

However, if George-fucking-Clooney had gotten the lead role in Deja Vu instead of Denzel Washington, and they used the exact same script, exact same supporting cast, exact same crew, exact same sets and exact same locations, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be asking me about it. Funny how that works. I'm white so I wouldn't know.

PS3.

I didn't get a PS3. No one I know did. Six years ago I missed out on the profit potential of the PS2 and last year I missed out on the Xbox 360.

Last year I went to Best Buy the night before Xbox 360 was released and there was no line outside. It was about 8PM. I asked someone about it:

Me: "Are you selling Xbox's tomorrow?"
Best Buy Dude: "Uh, yeah, I guess."

I shrugged my shoulders, decided it wasn't that big of deal and probably wouldn't sell for that much more than retail on eBay. It had been five years since the PS2 madness. If you recall, PS2 were impossible to get for a while and they sold for over $1,000 on eBay. I decided that was the exception, not the rule, and I wasn't going to waste my time trying to get an Xbox 360, so I left Best Buy, went home and slept.

This year I had determined I was getting a PS3 and was going to make some damn money on eBay. I saw pre-sale systems going for over $1,500.

On Monday, I called Alex. He had already thought of it. Mrs. Brick said she was in, too:

Her: "Sure, I'll wait outside for ten hours for $1,000"

We were planning on getting there at about 9PM the night before (last night) and set up some chairs and bring food and blankets and games. I had scheduled to take a day off today. We had no idea.

Alex popped in on Wednesday (Alex loves the pop-in, you have no idea how annoying that is). He sat on our couch. We talked about the plan. I called Scott and he thought we were crazy.

Him: "When are they coming out?"
Me: "Best Buy is going to have twenty of them. They are passing out tickets Friday at 7AM and will sell the systems at 8AM."
Him: "When are you getting there?"
Me: "Thursday at around 9PM."
Him: "You guys are nuts. You all are going to buy one? You are going to freeze. How are you going to sleep and poop and stuff?"
Me: "We'll dress warm and bring chairs and blankets. We'll just have to make arrangements with the other people in line to make bathroom runs. It will be a fun party."

I explained to Scott the profit potential of this situation and he was quickly onboard.

Alex and I decided to scope out the Best Buy. Our plans were soon jettisoned. We were there approximately 24 hours before we planned on starting our line wait and there was already a line of tents outside Best Buy.

Me: "We're fucked."
Him: "Yup."

Oh well, we thought. The Target next door also had six people in line. I went and talked to them.

Me: "You guys in line?"
Them: "Yeah, man, they are only getting six systems and there's already six people here. Fucking crazy."
Me: "Dang."

Alex was actually considering it. "Man, 36 hours for $1,000? That's more than I made per hour at my job. That might be worth it." Except the lines looked pretty full already. After seeing the conditions, I wasn't about to pursue it any further.

I'm glad I didn't, although I'm not glad I didn't get a system. There were even even less available than the expected 400,000. A lot of those people that waited didn't even get one. I bet it was mayhem this morning. One guy got shot. He didn't even have his PS3 yet. A line waiting outside a Wal-mart in Kentucky was hit by BB fire.

On eBay, systems are now selling for over $3,000.

People are stupid. I just wish I could have capitalized on that stupidity.

Baldo and Borat.

Mrs. Brick found the blog.

Her: "You're mean. You make me sound like a total bitch."
Me: "Yeah."

Maybe I should write an incredibly biased report about the last time we went shopping for pants and I ended up walking out saying: "If you want a ride home I suggest you follow me." That was a fun day. No pants were purchased. I think its going to be a long time before I get new pants because I'm not allowed to shop for pants by myself anymore and trying to find pants with the wife ends up in a brawl. I hope for a day when we can shop for pants and actually buy pants.

Moving on...

Friday Scotty Win and I drove to Stoneville to see "Borat: Cultural Learnings of Make Kazakhstan Good" with Baldo. I asked Mrs. Brick if she wanted to go:

Her: "You're going to drive two hours each way to see a movie? No thanks."
Me: "We aren't driving two hours each way to see a movie. We are driving two hours each way to see a movie with Baldo. There's a big difference. Haven't you ever seen a movie with him?"
Her: "Ummm, oh yeah, we saw 'Catch Me If You Can' with him and I guess he was kind of freaking out."
Me: "Okay, he freaks during 'Catch Me If You Can.' Multiply that by infinity. That's why we're going."
Her: "Have fun."

Scott had actually seen it already. He calls me after and says: "We have to see this with Baldo."

And so we went. It was raining. Scott's stomach was ready to implode so we stopped at a rest stop Subway. He got the Cajun chicken. I got the regular chicken.

We went straight to the theatre. Baldo ditched his wife and kid and met us there. His response to the movie was somewhat disappointing. Or maybe I was reacting in a similar manner and didn't notice him. I turned around and buried my face in the back of my seat at one point. That was the first (and only, I imagine) time I have done that in a movie.

The movie was completely offensive and completely awesome.

Afterwards we went to Baldo's local watering hole where they have Woodchuck on tap. We ordered a round and also ordered some pepperoni rolls and buffalo wings. The pepperoni rolls were very disappointing. The menu presented them in such a fashion as to cause Scott and I to simulaneouly exclaim:

"We HAVE to get pepperoni rolls!"

They were just rolls of bread with mozzarella cheese and a non-zero amount of pepperoni inside. They could have at least put more pepperoni in them so as not to be misleading by calling them "pepperoni rolls" and maybe spiced them up a bit or provided some ranch dipping sauce. They were just bland bread and cheese blobs. That didn't stop me from eating them, though.

A short while later the waiter came by and said:

"You guys need some more beers?"

Scott made a fatal mistake by saying: "Yes."

Apparently you have to lead straight off with a drink order instead of saying "yes" because in Stoneville "yes" apparently means: "We would like three more beers exactly like the ones we just finished and you should walk away right now before I have the chance to order something different."

We didn't quite get why he walked away without taking our order until he came back with three more Woodchucks. Thanks, jackass. First of all, Scott was the only one who confirmed his desire for another drink, and at no point did he say he wanted another Woodchuck. I would have liked a Diet Coke, but I guess you overruled my decision. Thanks again.

Scott and I drove home without seeing Baldo's wife or kid. Scott drove. I slept. Thanks, Scott.

He dropped me off at 2:30AM and Mrs. Brick was still sitting on the couch where I left her.

The next day we woke up and followed our usual routine of sitting around and watching TV. "Freaky Friday" from 2003 starring Lindsay Lohan is an awesome movie.

"You don't wanna know..."

...how much my sunglasses cost."

The douchebag (the one that bet thousands on the election) that sits in the cube next to me has issues. I have issues, too, lots of significant issues, but right now I'm talking about this guy's issues because I enjoy pointing out the faults of others in a feeble attempt to mask my own insecurities.

We just had a discussion about televisions with a coworker. At least it started out that way. They were talking about HDTV options. Apparently this guy has a 61" Samsung DLP HDTV. Whatever that means. I chimed in with my opinion on the subject, seeing as I have been researching upgrading but have not found a reason to do so. My main points were:

-It's too complicated; I don't get what the different formats are and stuff.
-Standard TV looks like crap on HDTV due to resolution and aspect ratio issues, and most channels are standard.
-The TV I have works just fine, and the cost to upgrade would not provide a significant enough improvement to justify the cost.

His counter-arguments included the following:

-It's not that complicated.
-I only watch HDTV channels.
-My TV cost $3,000.
-My speakers cost almost as much as my TV.
-My bedroom tv is a 32-inch HDTV.
-I'm thinking about replacing my 18-month old Mac Powerbook because it's too old.
-My sunglasses cost hundreds of dollars.

Instead of highlighting the benefits of HDTV and making a case as to why one should upgrade, he managed to shift the discussion to: "This is how much I spend on shit. I'm awesome." He closed with the exact quote that leads off today's post.

That's nice. I didn't know we were talking about how much sunglasses cost.

Maybe he was trying to start a dick measuring contest, and I chose not to participate. I just smiled and nodded.

Now, I don't have any problem with someone who spends "hundreds" on a pair of sunglasses. You can choose to spend your money how you want and it has no bearing on your worth as a human being*, but why are you telling me?

*To an extent; I mean, if you're spending the bulk of your disposable income on assault rifles and heroin and then giving these away to school children, I would say that severely reduces your worth as a human being. But then again, that has more to do with what one does with his purchases, and not so much how the money is spent. If the purchaser was throwing the assault rifles and heroin into a river of molten lava, then that would be a good thing. However, what if you're a heroin-addict assault rifle enthusiast and this guy was doing this just to taunt you? Then it would totally suck. It's all relative. Also, what the hell are you doing hanging out by a river of molten lava?

I don't know what motivated him to shift the discussion towards how much he spends on material goods. I also don't know what he thought the effect of this would be. If he wanted to make me think less of him than he succeeded. I always thought he was a douchebag but he just upgraded himself to "douchenozzle."

I should point out that I don't think less of him because of how much he spends. He is free to do what he wants with his money. I think less of him because he told us. It is no more annoying than if we were talking about HDTVs and he said: "Yeah, I don't own a TV or a car because I don't waste my money on worthless, life-numbing material goods. My sunglasses are made of hemp and only cost 73 cents. Also my stove is powered by the sun."

In conclusion, live your life and do what you want. Just don't rub my face in it.

Oh, by the way, my dick is huge. I wouldn't really know because I have no basis for comparison but the two women that have seen it have assured me it's gigantic.

Post-script

Interestingly enough (or not), 4.5 years ago I was discussing the merits of dating Mrs. Brick with Scotty Win. One of my arguments against her was: "She has Gucci sunglasses." I soon realized that was completely fucktarded and her choice of eyeball protection should have no influence on my opinion. The important thing was she never once made a point to tell me how awesome her sunglasses were or how much they cost. In fact, she never once brought up the subject of her sunglasses. She simply wore them when the sun was bothering her eyes. That's how it should be.

Election Day.

I'm tired of writing about the wedding. That last post was just thick and unwieldy. I will give you this wedding tip:

If your wife asks you to do something, just do it right away because you don't want to be sitting in your underwear 90 minutes before your wedding trying to get a hold of your DJ to make sure he got the playlist.

But right now I want to talk about something else.

Today is election day. I think. I've never really cared or voted. The guy who sits in the cube to my left is apparently a politics freak and a degenerate gambler. He also talks to everyone and is a bit of a douche.

A couple of weeks ago, through one of his many talkings I learned that he is wagering on today's election:

"I've got a bet going that the Republicans take control of both houses."

I actually spoke at this point, just to make some pointless chit-chat: "You didn't make that bet online now, did you? We can't be breaking the law, now."

Him: "No, it's with a guy upstairs."

I figure it's just a friendly wager for something like $20.

Him: "So you gamble online?"

And so I told him that yes, I do gamble online. Specifically, I play poker and bonus-whore casinos, but the casino bonuses are basically gone and there are only a few poker rooms left. Also, I suck at poker.

I learned that he just fucking gambles. He bets on sports, mainly. I guess he also bets on elections. That's kind of interesting and sad. I find out later that his bet with the coworker is for something more than $20.

I forget about this until about a week ago. Then he asks me for some help:

Him: "You've got a Neteller account and know how that works, right?"
Me: "Uh...yeah."
Him: "Do you have a sportbets.com account?"
Me: "No."
Him: "If I give you $400 can you open a sportbets account and place a bet for me?"
Me: "?"
Him: "I'll give you 10% if I win."
Me: "Okay."

Apparently he met the limit on his account. He wanted to make a parlay bet that the Republicans win both houses. He was getting 6-1. I agree to make the bet for him.

He then hands me some $100 bills. I hardly know this guy and he's handing me $400.

I don't want to be an enabler and I don't really want the Republicans to control either house, but hey, I get about $250 if he wins and I lose nothing if he loses.

Go Republicans!

Portuguese brouhaha.

The in-laws arrived approximately one week pre-wedding. This group consisted of Mrs. Brick's mom, her sister, and her sister's husband and two kids, aged 2 and 4. I had a few apprehensions about having seven people in our charming 2BED/1BA, GREAT LOCATION, CLOSE TO RESTAURANTS & TRAINS.

First of all, our humble shelter is used to only having two people in it, and only one Portuguese person. The Portuguese population in our house just tripled. Everything seemed like a fight, although it was all in Portuguese so I didn't understand. They might have been pleasantly reminiscing about days of yore, but it sounded like fighting. It is not uncommon for Mrs. Brick to get off the phone with her Mom or sister:

Me: "What were you guys fighting about?"
Her: "What are you talking about?"
Me: "What were you and your mom arguing about?"
Her: "We weren't fighting. We were just talking about pickles."

So that was fun. Also, I have a fear of other humans and social interaction so having a Portuguese mother-in-law that refuses to speak English is cool. I say refuses because I'm pretty sure she understands a lot of English but never speaks it. I should probably mention that Mrs. Brick's mom still lives in Portugal. That is cool, too. But I digress.

From being with my lovely wife for several years I have long since accepted that she is very opinionated and stubborn. If she wants something done a certain way, doing it a different way will be painful. For me. All of a sudden I had three of that in my house.

We had thought about having the wedding in Portugal because it would have been a lot cheaper because only our immediate families would have gone. Plus we could have incorporated the honeymoon into this trip and I could have fulfilled my "visit Portugual" requirement. That's like, three birds with one stone. However, Mrs. Brick put the smack down on that idea pretty quickly after talking to her mom:

Mrs. Brick: "Oh my god, my mom is crazy."
Me: "Okay."
Mrs. Brick: "She wants to do all this shit that I don't want. She wants to like, personally cook a feast for the entire town and I'm like 'Mom! I don't want that I want it to be small!' and my mom is like 'Oh no, we have to invite the entire town. I'll make pot roast.' So now she's cooking for the whole damn town? And I don't want fucking pot roast."
Me: "So she's exactly like you?"
Her: "We're not having the wedding in Portugal."

Watching the three of them make tablecloths for the wedding was...interesting. Luckily I was out of the house for most of it.

Brick's Wedding Tip #1: Do not make your own tablecloths for the wedding. You don't need gold tablecloths. It will take way longer than you think and you will fight a lot with your family. The white ones the restaurant has are just fine.

With the large family infusion I was also nervous about having the nonstop responsibility of babysitter being placed upon me. From my previous visits with this sister I am used to this. I was pleasantly surprised. The sister's husband pretty much took care of them. He took them to the park and museums and stuff. I like hanging out with them, but not hanging out with them is pretty cool, too.

Mrs. Brick's other sister (and her husband and 3-year-old) arrived two days before the wedding, as well as Mrs. Brick's dad, as well as my parents. Luckily the whole group was now staying at a hotel a block away, with the exception of her parents. Although that didn't change much because they were all at the house 24-7.

Let's review: Mrs. Brick's whole family is now here: mom, dad, two sisters (plus husbands and children), and my parents are now here. Did I mention our house is a 2BED/1BA? I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I love all of them, but I would prefer it if the whole group was not concentrated in my house at one time.

The brouhaha escalated when the flowers didn't arrive the day before the wedding like they were supposed to. Mrs. Brick ordered the flowers and the plan was for the sisters to make the arrangements. However, the flowers were hung up in customs. I guess the company Mrs. Brick ordered the flowers from gets them from Colombia. I didn't know flowers were a chief export of Colombia, but I don't think it's that surprising that a shipment from Colombia was held up in customs. So we didn't have flowers.

The sisters yelled at each other for a while and Mrs. Brick cried:

"Nothing is going right I planned this wedding for six months and now it's ruined. Boohoo."

All the men knew to get the hell out of the house. I took this as an opportunity to deliver the alcohol to the rehearsal dinner venue.

Mrs. Brick stopped crying and the females regrouped and made a flower run. They raided Sam's Club as well as three other flower shops. It set them back about three hours, but they got flowers and made the arrangements.

Did I mention during this period I actually started doing stuff for the wedding?

Next post.

I guess it wasn't as big of a brouhaha as I remember.

2nd post. Getting engaged and stuff.

Wow, it's good to see that I'm still on some peoples' bloglines and Scotty Win is still checking in. I think I will hide this from the Mrs. for a little while. I want to see how long it takes her to find it. I might have to just tell her eventually because I know she stopped checking the other blog a long time ago.

I have sat down to write the "wedding" post several times but am not getting anywhere.
Whatever you get right now is going to be the wedding post, or at least the first wedding post if it gets too long:

Eight months ago we had just gone to bed and somehow another fight got started about us not being engaged/married:

Her: "WHEN ARE WE GETTING ENGAGED?!"
Me: "I DON'T KNOW!"
Her: "WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?!"
Me: "I DON'T KNOW!"
Her: "SO WHEN ARE WE GETTING ENGAGED?!"
Me: "I DON'T KNOW!"
Her: "YOU'VE HAD THAT RING FOR TWO YEARS!"
Me: "I KNOW!"
Her: "SO?"
Me: "FINE, HERE!"
( Brick gets up, gets ring from dresser, puts it on her finger)
Her: "So we're engaged now?
Me: "Yes, can I go to sleep now?"
Her: "wtf?"

And that was that. Actually, that wasn't that, because I couldn't actually go to sleep. I think we talked for another hour and I was informed that I didn't provide her with an appropriate engagement and how now she didn't have a romantic engagement story to tell. Too bad. "We were fighting in bed and he put the ring on my finger" will have to suffice.

The next day she went into wedding planning overdrive. I proceeded to do nothing:

Her: "Do you even care about this wedding? I might as well be getting married to myself because you don't even care."
Me: "You know how there are 2,145 'bride' magazines and exactly zero 'groom' magazines? There's a reason for that."

That pretty much sums up February to September. The one thing I did do during this time, however, was bonus-whore my ass off and make $5,200 to help pay for the wedding. I would frequently remind her of this during each of our many "you're not doing anything for the wedding" fights. It helped me quite a bit that the figure steadily grew and that I only committed myself to making $3,000.

It's a good thing we got married when we did because everything basically dried up after the wedding and the online casinos started banning Americans.

So, for seven months Mrs. Brick basically spent every free minute of her time on theknot.com. Did I mention I did nothing? She picked out the bridesmaid dresses, ordered them and sent them back because she didn't like them before I even told my parents we were engaged.

I was given the responsibility of organizing the rehearsal dinner, getting the cake, and, of course, the tuxes. Did I mention I did nothing?

Her: "What's up with the cake?"
Me: "Dude, the wedding's not for four months, why don't you chill the fuck out?"
Her: "What's up with the cake?"
Me: "Dude, the wedding's not until this afternoon, why don't you chill the fuck out?"

When she assigned the responsibility of getting the cake I politely told her: "Well, then we might not have a cake."

She ended up arranging for the cake because I did nothing.

It didn't really hit me that we were getting married until about five days before the wedding when her family came. It was like this giant, Portuguese brouhaha. Also, I actually started doing stuff.

Coming tomorrow:

-Portuguese brouhaha.
-Me doing stuff.