Is THIS being fashionable??

My dad was a veritable dandy. He had racks of ties, socks, and suits. He had loads and loads of shirts. And the man knew how to put it all together. Even in his casual wear, he looked impeccable all the time.  Everything was well pressed, all his shoes were polished. Every week he bought an extra tie, or he had some new suit made. He truly enjoyed being well groomed. Never quite at the forefront of fashion, he was disapproving of the many ridiculous trends he had to witness: tight bellbottoms, flowered shirts, acid-wash jeans... They were all abominations.

Lucky for him, he never got to see the mind-blowingly absurd trend that is a hit with teens today: “brand-new, worn-out clothes”. Manufacturers take a perfectly good piece of clothing and they dye, sandblast and hot-press it till it looks like it is 10 or 15 years old.



And it’s not just jeans. Caps, sweatshirts, you name it.
Ripped, torn, faded... these clothes seem like they’re Goodwill rejects. And yet, kids pay $120 to be dressed like a hoodlum.

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE??

I sincerely believe a whole generation of kids was dropped on its head.

Mass Murderer!!

I never thought tonight I’d become a killer. But I had no choice.

It happened just a few hours ago. I saw one of them, then a lot more. They were quite a few and seemed to be in what looked like a gang. I was immediately overcome with maddening rage. I felt the urge to kill right there and then.
 
So I crept up right behind them and I killed one, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to kill them all, before they turned on me. And so, I started with my murderous spree. I killed one, two... I lost count! I followed them, right to their homes and brought death to their door. I couldn’t stop myself!

But no matter what, those freaking ants kept coming at me, so I kept spraying their asses until I ran out of Bug-Kill.

I am proud of my deadly deed. My front door is now a wasteland. Insect carcasses litter the ground as far as the eye can see.
In my mind, I can almost see it:

Kz: 1    
Bugs: 0

But as happy as I feel for my glorious victory, I know that for every bug killed a hundred will return.

I must be ready for them.

Ok, let's try this thing!

This is nothing but a mere test to see if the dang blog-by-mail is back on track.
Pay no attention to it. And in case you already don’t pay attention to anything i say, then just pretend like you did pay attention at some point in time, and then just decided to not pay attention to this mere post.

Confused?? Me too. I think I will stop paying attention to myself as well.

My ripped slipper

A loooong time ago, (I think it was still the nineties) I remember going into a store and buying me a pair of badly-needed slippers. My previous pair was totally falling apart so I had decided to retire them and get a spankin' new pair.

Time has passed, and now those once-new slippers are falling apart as well. Actually, just one is. The right slipper has come off in the strap that keeps the foot firmly set onto the sole of this comfortable footwear. So every time I tried to take a step, my foot would move forward while the slipper would stay in the very same spot.

After trying using several kinds of glue to keep the slipper together, I ended using some Scotch tape. Scotch tape, you ask?? Well, it ain't pretty, but it does the deed. For a while, at least. Then the tape comes off and the slipper falls apart once again. It isn't pretty, as you may well imagine, but it works.

Why didn't I just go to the store and get a new pair?? Right now, you must be thinking:
a) KZ is a cheap S.O.B.
b) KZ is a poor S.O.B.
c) KZ is a really lazy S.O.B.
d) KZ has an ugly shoe fetish

But the truth is, I didn't consider it necessary. I mean, the sole was ok, the straps were ok (except the unglued part). Also, they were very comfortable and nobody will ever see me with these slippers on, since I only use them within the confines of my room. Taking all of this into account, buying new slippers was a complete non-priority.

By my mom didn't see it that way. She couldn't bear the thought that her little boy (that would be moi) would be walking around with slippers that looked like Goodwill rejects.

She must've talked to my sister or something, because the next thing I know, I get this really nice, shiny rubber slippers.

Hey, it's not like I am emotionally attached to any footwear. Ripped slippers are comfy, but if somebody gives me new ones, I will trade them in a heartbeat. And the slippers my sis gave me were very cool-looking indeed. They seemed to be made with quality plastic. Awesome.

I rejoiced, my mom rejoiced. At last, the monstruous slippers would be banished from the house for all eternity and I would be wearing the best damn plastic slippers this side of the Equator!!

Beautiful thoughts, huh? However, they were not meant to be. The slippers didn't fit. After five minutes of having them on, I would cease to feel my toes at all. And if I were to have them on any longer, I would be risking losing a toe to gangrene. So I handed the shoes back to my sis and asked her to change them for a bigger size.

It's been almost two months since, and my sister hasn't gone to the store to make the exchange. I think she even lost the receipt. So my awesome new slippers are gathering dust in a box somewhere.

Tonight, I tried box-packing tape on my ripped slipper.
It worked like a charm.

The Church and me

Since I was a fetus in my mother's womb, I was raised a Roman Catholic, just like most kids in Kzanderallia at the time. Communion, confirmation, Hail Mary, mother of Christ and stuff like that. And it was good, it really was. I went to Mass, prayed before going to sleep. I was a good Catholic boy.

But as I grew up, I discovered some stuff about Catholicism bugged me. Banal stuff (at least they seemed that way to me at the time): Why must priests be single? Isn’t this going against human nature? And why can't there be female priests??

If you found the above comments somewhat controversial, just wait: it gets better.

Later I discovered that I also had problem with the heavier stuff: the dogmas. In case you were wondering, a dogma is a religious doctrine that is proclaimed as true without proof, like the Holy Trinity: A trinity? Isn’t it THREE GODS?? Last time we checked, we were monotheists, or has that changed? And just why is the Holy Ghost “a person”?? Why couldn’t it just be the Father and Jesus? And why did Mary have to remain untouched after giving birth to Jesus? I mean, once that was over, why couldn’t she and Joseph be a couple and have more kids?

You get the idea.

As time passed, even more questions kept piling up. During my first years in college, I had no girlfriend, so I had a lot of time to dwell on stuff like this. And I got more confused every time I started thinking about Catholisism and religion. My perspectives changed almost daily. I was adrift.

I thought a massive infussion of Christ would help me. I decided to check out The Other Side: the “separated brothers” who left the Catholic Church along with Martin Luther during the Middle Ages. They are known as Protestants, but most prefer to be called Christians.

So I hung around Christians, listened to Christian music, attended ‘cells’ (Christian youth groups) and even went to a few services. It will always amaze me the devotion this guys have. They are fully commited to their churches, and don’t flinch at the thought of three-hour services each Sunday. Three hours straight! And I felt that a 60-minute Mass was pushing it a bit.

I tried, but I just couldn’t get into the ‘WWJD’ feeling. I felt fake all the time I was there. So I dropped it.

Then I started to rebel against almost every form of organized religion. I saw every religious head as a phony who turned his followers into brainless zombie slaves, while sucking their wallets dry.

Now I should make it clear that all this furious theological rebellion pretty much existed solely within the confines of my mind, for I never acted on it. I didn’t even stop going to Mass! In retrospect, I don’t think anybody really noticed my heretic phase. It’s kinda sad, now that I think about it.

Time has passed and I have made a peace of sorts with the Church. Catholicism is not perfect, but it is the one religion I really like. I don’t think I’m 100% Catholic anymore, though, since I have decided to just believe in the things that make sense to me. A real Catholic wouldn’t do that. He would take the whole enchilada and gulp it down without hesitation, just like my mom and my granny.

So that’s me nowdays: part Catholic, part heretic, mostly moronic.

I must say, one Christian belief I never had any problems thinking about was Hell. Maybe that’s because a part of me knows one day I will be rotting in there for sure.

Juri

There’s a new guy down at the office. His name is Juri, and in very short time he has managed to freak out all the women and a few of the men who work there. Maybe it’s his weird name. It could also have to do with the fact that he has big ears and big teeth. Or maybe the fact that he eats like a rodent.

All this characteristics actually make perfect sense since he is, in fact, a mouse.

Yeah, we got a mice problem down at Lexcorp. Needless to say, nobody is thrilled about it. A single mouse can turn into many quite fast. So a coworker named Louis decided to bring a mousetrap to catch the little bugger and put him out of comission.

Yesterday afternoon Louis prepped the trap and even put a bit of cheese as bait (yeah, cheese). I tried telling him that cheese only works in Tom and Jerry cartoons. In REAL life, meat works better to reel mice in. But he didn’t listen and i just shook my head and walked away.

Against all odds, the trap worked!
This morning, when Louis walked in at 7:00 and checked the trap, this is what he found:



Four hours later, he was still laughing.