Hell of a thing, killin’ a man.

I went out with the gunslingers last night, an act of lunacy I’d sworn never to repeat. I guess you’d call it a peacekeeping mission; but instead of an MK47, I was armed with moxy and a clean pair of shorts (to be said like Ace Ventura). We’ve settled into a quiet unease of late,Continue reading “Hell of a thing, killin’ a man.”

I’m gonna punch you in the ovary.

My god-awful job continues, where I sit in a catatonic state and occasionally mix it up with drool marching down my chin. I never quite manage to tune out cult boy (who drives me Kurt Cobain with his fucking Flanders grin) and the gunslingers continue to fixate on me as if I’m in a teenContinue reading “I’m gonna punch you in the ovary.”

Throw me a frikkin bone here.

The dude who sits next to me at work burns my toast, I might’ve mentioned. It’s not just that he dresses like a Corky or watches me like a puppy waiting to be let out so he doesn’t crap on the carpet. It’s a little that and a little this: where other people have dysfunctionContinue reading “Throw me a frikkin bone here.”

Praise be to Schwarzenegger.

There’s a dude at work the spitting image of Jesus. A well-dressed son of a God who has wisely forgone the moo-moo and sandals for a pencil-thin suit. He has glorious hair, an exultant beard, prays under six foot (no God should tower) and glides majestically from meeting to meeting. I often find Jesus atContinue reading “Praise be to Schwarzenegger.”

Hitman versus ninja … Round One.

I suppose the office ninja must adapt to its environs. Not much good being ‘silent but deadly’ if you need to attend meetings and present financial reports. Cut to: boardroom, morning, somewhere in Australia. Office stiffs populate a large table, sitting upright in their ties and specs, Mont Blancs at the ready. In the corner, a ninja.Continue reading “Hitman versus ninja … Round One.”