3/3/14

I am so fucking sick of my job… so much so that I'm not even able to talk about it.  I'm going to play some solitaire while listening to this fucking call.  Perhaps I'll come back later to tell y'all all about it.  Ok, I'm back.  Here’s what is going on… I hate my fucking job!  Alright, I said that already.  Here’s why: I'm now under telecom.  “So what?” you say.  “You’ve been under telecom for a year now haven’t you?”  Well, yes I have.  But now it is really beginning to get to me.  Saturday I got a phone call while working at the shop.  The monkey spanks had changed something overnight in the telephone system and there was interference or something on the 0800 h War Room call.  They, the telecom idiots who screwed something up somewhere else, wanted me to come in and look at my equipment.  While telling me what all he had done he even said he made several calls from my equipment and it sounded fine.  It was only when dialing into one of their bridges that it sounded bad.  THAT’S YOUR MOTHER FUCKING EQUIPMENT THEN‼‼‼‼‼  I told the guy I'd come in in the afternoon but that it wouldn’t be immediately.  He said that was ok.  Later he called to say that they re-reset something they had reset the night before and it sounds better.  Like I said, IT WAS YOUR FUCKING EQUIPMENT, NOT MINE‼‼‼‼  I quickly forgot about it and went about my mule skinnin’ at the shop.  When I got home however, there were twenty e-mails on the Dingleberry.  Those twenty e-mails are why I hate my fucking job.  Telecom, it has been described to me, is like a tree full of little tiny birds.  If one little acorn falls from a branch, every one of those little birds flies off in a total snit.  Then, once the acorn has been neutralized as a threat and all the birds return to their nests, it has to be explained to each and every one of them what happened.  So, I decided I'd come in early this morning to test my shit real well and be ready to chirp with a bunch of little birds.  I was sitting in the closet across the hall from the War Room listening in on the call when I began the rant today.  And guess what, MY FUCKING EQUIPMENT WORKED FUCKING FINE‼‼‼‼  Of course, there’s also the fact that the A/V business is moving in a direction I don’t like.  I'm “Old School” Audio/Visual.  I can do the “nuts and bolts” stuff of “this wire connects that piece of equipment to that other piece of equipment.”  Unfortunately, A/V is moving away from “nuts and bolts” to “URLs and IPs.”  We all know how I feel about computers and their related bullshit… I fucking hate them!  Therefore, I'm beginning to hate my job on that level as well.  So, with all of that said, I can move on.  Juan may remember last week that I was talking about new plans for the Chickenhawk.  Well, it looks like we’re going to go with a revvy little L-16 with a “warm” JDM camshaft, single side draft carburetor and header.  All of which, save for the intake, we have on hand.  Of course by “we” I mean John… but that is splitting hairs.  I think I'm trading the VG-33 to him to use instead of the L-16 I'm trying to “dibs” for the Chickenhawk.  What I need to do, which I've been pretty successful at with the Spit and Mini, is NOT let this project cut in line ahead of finishing Lil' Wiggly!  Oh shit!  It is lunchtime!  I'm out of here for a bit.  And I'm back.  Lunch did nothing to relieve the shitty mood I'm in.  See, we’ve been eating lunch at the same table for years in the Employee Center.  Well, recently there have been squatters sitting at our table from time to time.  Today, we had to eat at the shitty table right next to the cash register.  Oh no, that did nothing good for my mood, I have to say.  Anyhoo, back to the Chickenhawk… um, I guess I said all there is to say for the time being.  So here’s what I did over the weekend.  Saturday morning I rolled Fiona out into the street, Fifi back to the curb, and The Seven out of the garage.  I tried to make starting but the battery was totally flat.  I turned the car around and hooked up the jumpers to Fifi.  Yeah, it was so dead that even THAT wouldn’t crank the engine!  I sat in Fifi and revved the engine to give The Seven some charge before trying again.  It cranked for a bit and finally sputtered to life… then died again.  After some more cranking, it ran for good and I put away the jumper cables.  I shut down Fifi and hopped in The Seven.  The fog was so thick in my neighborhood and up onto the freeway that I could not see a damned thing.  Then the fog cleared… and I couldn’t see a damned thing because I was staring into the sun.  I finally got to the shop to find John waiting for me to open the gate.  He’d forgotten his keys.  I had him follow me to the gas station in case it wouldn’t start again after filling up.  It did not.  We bump started it in reverse and went back to the shop.  There I messed with his wiring harness for a bit while he did other stuff to his car.  Eventually we were at a good quitting point… so I got to work on a gun.  Ok, I'm past a page break, and I realize I need to tell some back story before talking about the amateur gunsmithery I did, so I'm going to call it a rant for the day.  I'll finish up tomorrow.