KK's Korner

No telling what’s being thought of in the mind of a lunatic

Archive for March 2006

Give Me My Break

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One thing that really used to get on my nerves at a few former jobs was when co-workers would approach me on my break while I was listening to a CD via portable player and headphones. The following conversation would then ensue:

Them: “hey … Hey … HEY!”
Me: “What?”
“Whatcha listening to?”
“Ramones/EPMD/Offspring/etc.”
“Any good?”

For the rest of my break I’d be talking with this schmuck when all I wanted to do was listen to some goddamn music for 10-15 minutes. Oh that used to piss me off. And if these people weren’t talking about your taste in music during a short break they commented on your food during a lunch break. My favorite memory was when this retard came up to me while I was enjoying some animal crackers and milk and asked, “Whatcha eating?” What the fuck does it look like, dipshit? The bag on the table in front of me says “Animal Crackers” and there’s a bunch of circus/zoo animals on the packaging. Nevertheless I humored this dolt and responded with “animal crackers.” I swear to God at this point he was sprouting wood. He started going “Ooooh ANIMAL CRACKERS. That sounds good.” Jesus Christ. If you had 99 cents in your pocket you could probably get some of your own and jerk off to their crunchy, but not-too-sweet, goodness instead of bothering me with this pisspoor attempt at small talk, or whatever you cretins try to bother me with.

While I’m on this subject, here’s another thing that gets on my nerves. You go to a retail store and buy something, anything. When you go to the register, the cashier makes some gay-ass comment about what a great purchase you made. OK, I can deal with this, after all they’re just trying to be friendly. However, what sometimes comes next from these people makes me want to kill; they remark about how they wished they had whatever it was you were buying. For fuck’s sake, I bought this in the STORE YOU WORK IN. I doubt Wal-Mart or Target has a policy forbidding its employees from buying in-house merchandise. Go on your break and buy one of whatever it was that I brought to your work sta — that is if you aren’t planning on popping in a CD in the break room, only to have Doug from Electronics ask you what you’re listening to.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 31, 2006 at 6:12 pm

Posted in Life

NIfTy NC State

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Whenever the NIT is under way, there’s always jokesters who say things like, “time to see which team is the 66th best in the country lol.” And while it is odd, albeit funny, that this tournament has a back-to-back champ, five consecutive wins in tournament play is five consecutive wins. So to NC State I say congrats. Maybe next year you can get into the big dance and get blown out in the first round.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 31, 2006 at 6:11 pm

Posted in Sports

Born To Be … What?

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Shoot me now. Before typing up this masterpiece of an entry you are currently reading, I popped in my Best-of Steppenwolf CD and realized that while “Born to be Wild” played I was scanning through a shopping receipt seeing how much money I saved during today’s trip to the store. And for those scoring at home, I saved $11 off a $23 bill, thanks to weekly specials and coupons.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 31, 2006 at 6:11 pm

Posted in Life

Could The Roles Be Switched In Gender Bias?

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With all the PC/Affirmative Action bullshit that’s run rampant on universities today, it’s only poetic justice that there’s at least one college out there that is turning away more qualified female applicants in favor of less qualified male ones. The reason? Because there are less males going to Big Academia than women.

A few days ago I watched my daughter Madalyn open a thin envelope from one of the five colleges to which she had applied. “Why?” was what she was obviously asking herself as she handed me the letter saying she was waitlisted.

Why, indeed? She had taken the toughest courses in high school and had done well, sat through several Saturday mornings taking SAT’s and the like, participated in the requisite number of extracurricular activities and written a heartfelt and well-phrased essay.

She had not, however, been named a National Merit finalist, dug a well for a village in Africa or climbed to the top of Mount Ranier. She is a smart, well-meaning, hard-working girl, but in this age of swollen applicant pools that are decidedly female, that wasn’t enough. The fat acceptance envelope is simply more elusive for today’s accomplished young women.

I know this well. At my own college these days, we have three applicants for every one we can admit. Just three years ago, it was two to one. Though Kenyon was a men’s college until 1969, more than 55 percent of our applicants are female, a proportion that is steadily increasing. My staff and I carefully read these young women’s essays about their passion for poetry, their desire to discover vaccines and their conviction that they can make the world a better place.

I was once one of those girls applying to college, but that was 30 years ago, when applying to college was only a tad more difficult than signing up for a membership at the Y. Today, it’s a complicated and prolonged dance that begins early, and for young women, there is little margin for error: A grade of C in Algebra II/Trig? Off to the waitlist you go.

Rest assured admissions officers are not cavalier. Last week, the 10 officers at my college sat around a table, 12 hours every day, deliberating the applications of hundreds of talented men and women. While poring over statistics, we heard about a young woman from Kentucky we were not yet ready to admit outright. She was the leader/president/editor/captain/lead actress in every activity in her school. She had taken six advanced placement courses and had been selected for a prestigious state leadership program. In her free time, this whirlwind of achievement had accumulated more than 300 hours of community service in four different organizations.

Few of us sitting around the table were as talented and as directed at age 17. Unfortunately, her test scores and grade point average placed her in the middle of our pool. We had to debate before we decided to swallow the middling scores and write “admit” next to her name.

Had she been a male applicant, there would have been little, if any, hesitation to admit. The reality is that because young men are rarer, they’re more valued applicants. Two-thirds of colleges and universities report they get more female than male applicants, and more than 56 percent of undergraduates nationwide are women. Demographers predict that by 2009, only 42 percent of all U.S. baccalaureate degrees will be given to men.

That’s right, baby. Diversity is a two-way street, and if it’s really diverse it’s at least a four-way intersection. I especially loved the way this sure-fire feminazi ended her article:

“I admire the brilliant successes of our daughters. To parents and the students getting thin (rejection) envelopes, I apologize for the demographic realities.”

You ought to be apologizing for your institution’s practice of discrimination.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 30, 2006 at 6:07 pm

Posted in News

A Six Point Dance Could Cost 15 Yards

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So the NFL powers-that-be decided that excessive touchdown celebrations will result in a 15-yard penalty. Lame.

The NFL used to worry about hang time. Now they’ll have to worry about dance time.

Among the 15 new rule proposals passed yesterday by the league’s 32 clubs was the banishment of ”prolonged or excessive celebrations” as well as celebrating while a player is on the ground. This is an attempt to forestall the antics of Cincinnati Bengals wide receiver Chad Johnson, Dallas Cowboys receiver Terrell Owens, and Carolina Panthers wide receiver Steve Smith, all of whom have used what were called ”props” by Competition Committee co-chairman Jeff Fisher. Props, among other things, are now banned and will result in a 15-yard penalty. In addition, any dance deemed too long by game officials will result in an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty after a warning.

Sure many of these pre-planned dances and stunts are stupid, but are they really that bad? I actually enjoyed Chad Johnson’s antics last year, and before Terrell Owens drew the ire of ESPN for picking on Donovan McNabb, I was entertained by a number of his touchdown celebrations; I admit to being amused at that thing he did with the pom-pom’s a few years ago, not to mention that incident in Dallas where he went to midfield and defaced the 50-yard Star.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 30, 2006 at 6:05 pm

Posted in Sports

Looking For Some Direction(s)

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I’m not too good at giving directions, even though I try my darndest. Back when I used to work at the convenience store, I used to get plenty of people asking me where certain streets/buildings/etc. were and I’d just go “derp.” The only exception to this was on the weekends, when a local flea market would open. The reason I knew the location of this swap meet? Because it was literally only a few miles down the street from my workplace. Even though I always started out trying to be as helpful as I could to these people, it almost always ended in disaster. Despite the flea market only being a straight shot away, the handful of lost customers who asked me where this place was would ALWAYS question my directions of “just go straight through the intersection on Wildwood Road and it will appear on your left a few miles down.” One time this guy even whipped out a hand-written map and said that’s not where the flea market was located according to his directions, to which my response was, “well then follow your map and ignore the directions of someone who has lived in this area for six years and has visited this flea market on several occasions.” That response didn’t go over too well.

Flea market pilgrims aside, the reason I always try to be as helpful as I can to someone lost is because I’m, for the most part, a believer in karma and know if I’m ever in need of directions I’d want to get someone who is as good-intentioned as me when it comes to helping wayward travelers. Well, early this morning I was at work and realized I needed to get batteries for the digital camera. I headed out to the nearby grocery store, and as I was approaching the sliding doors, this lady in some rusted-out hooptie called out to me. I approached her and she told me that she had gotten off the wrong exit off I-376 and was looking for the local Olive Garden. Now I only work in this area and don’t venture out much, so at first I told her that I couldn’t think of one around here. However, the little hamster in his wheel that powers my thought process kicked it into overdrive while this lady was explaining her predicament. Suddenly, I remembered where the Olive Garden was – I drove past there a few times while exploring the area when I first started my job. The problem was that I wasn’t sure of all the street names from where we were to where she would have had to go. I told her that I remembered where the Olive Garden was located. Because she was parked in the middle of the road and causing a backup in traffic, I said that if she would park her car I could write the directions down for her. She suddenly snapped in a ghetto fashion, “I ain’t got no time fo’ dat! I was ‘sposed to be o’er dere’ five minutes ago!” and sped off. Bitch. Oh well, I think I got a few extra points from the Karma Gods on that one.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 30, 2006 at 6:03 pm

Posted in Life

Out Of The Frying Pan And Into The … Oven

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I have been regulating the feeding of my three cats. By giving each a quarter-cup of food in the morning and at night, I’m hoping this will prevent any health-related problems with them such as diabetes. The problem with this though is that now it’s nearly impossible to cook anything because you get overrun by felines on the hunt for food. This evening I was cooking a Lean Pocket in the oven (I can’t stand eating those things straight out of the microwave; it takes longer to bake a Pocket, but it’s worth it in the end.) and was getting a turkey sandwich prepared for a brief baking. The Lean Pocket was ready to be taken out, so I partially opened the oven door and turned back to finish putting the condiments on the sandwich. It was at this time when JJ trotted into the kitchen and began sniffing around; my guess is that he was smelling the Chicken Quesadilla Lean Pocket. I kept an eye on him and noticed that his backside began wiggling, which is always followed by a lunge/leap/charge. When I realized that he was about to jump in an oven that’s been at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, I reached for him, but I was too late. He jumped INTO THE OVEN. Fortunately, he’s not very coordinated and he only managed to get his front end onto the oven’s opening. His weight made the door fall all the way down, and I was able to get him to jump off the door completely.

When I turned around back to my sandwich, I saw Dessa (who jumped up onto the island counter — where my sandwich was — while I was dealing with JJ) sniffing the turkey meat that was out. As I picked her up off the island, the little bitch snagged a slice of turkey in her mouth while in mid-air and took off with it under the living room coffee table. Thank God Max was too busy looking out an opened window and didn’t get in on this action.

Written by kkktookmybabyaway

March 29, 2006 at 6:02 pm

Posted in Life