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Blogger Profile: The name's Northe.
Been blogging since: September 2004.
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Written by Northe   
Monday, 15 March 2010 06:29

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

For those of you that don't know me, and as many that do can attest to, I am a passionate guy. Grant me a minute or two of your time so I can explain myself, if you please. You can compare my, often times, completely uncontrollable and uncalled for anger to a helium filled football. When someone sets me off, and it really doesn't even have to be something crazy or worthy of anything, just a simple punt, chances are that extra loft will grant you a good 10-20% greater form of hate than many of my unionized and paid-to-write peers would offer up. Before going too far into this, let it be known that my emotions shallow back down to normal levels just as easily. Just like when that football breaks into the atmosphere, it will just as quickly return to the earth. Sure, in those fleeting moments my language may be littered with profanity and hey I might even throw in a death threat or two against you and/or your loved ones, but as surely as gravity does its thing with the ol' pigskin, so too does my rage find its level like any standing pool of water before too long and I am seen grinning and laughing without giving my disgusting behavior a second thought. Now, some may call this an unbalanced mental defect or the blooming onset of some sort of psychosis but really, if I can provide some form of entertainment before I find myself on the landing of a crudely constructed gallows having rotten vegetables pegged at me, then I say so be it. When these lucid moments break free I embrace it, as all of you Angry Timers should. Add an unwavering arrogance and you're getting close to an appropriate delivery method. What better way to let loose, unfettered and unconcerned about what the virgin eared sissypants in the corner using a stalk of celery to pick his teeth may think? An opinion is meant to not only be shared but, at times, spiked right into the chest of whoever you feel like giving it to. With authority, damn it!

The crux of what I am getting at here is that when in certain social settings, I do indeed conform to what is expected of me. Not because it is what society begs of me, but mainly because there is a certain sense of honor that one must maintain if he or she is to be taken seriously. Actions by which one's legacy is measured when all things are said and done. The troubling situation I have with the way my overarching brain is wired, is that I have been burying and tamping down on such demented outbursts for years now at my place of business. However, when constantly put through the same anguishing situations as often as I am wrought to face them things can't possibly turn out good in the end. The geothermal buildup is unlikely to stay contained, it is simply bound to happen. It is like constantly shoving a bat into the face of a caged tiger.. one day the unspeakable will be unleashed and there's no saying what the outcome will be.. one day.. just one day...

A classic example of suppressing my billowing temper shrouded in vengeance is when Female Boss comes at me with her typical nonsense. This comes as no news to you, the loyal reader, but can never be repeated enough to nail the point home. There are certain things that I can absorb into my soul, much like a large bubble taking in a smaller bubble, thus only making me stronger when the time comes, but there are certain things that really only serve as a more volatile pairing such as a Bunsen burner to a beaker. It is a combination of disgust and disbelief, yes, even still at this point I cannot believe some of the things that come out of her mouth. Being from the East Coast, one would think that she would be only slightly more learned than a West Coaster but such is absolutely not the case. Again, no surprise.

What happened was, Female Boss ended up receiving an address for a Client via in-mail. Lo and behold the street is named Niagara. She starts, "Hey Northe, you know that street Niagara over in City?"

"Sure."

"Well, I always thought it was called Niagara but I was wrong this whole time."

"What are you getting at?"

"The street is Ni-yag-uh-ruh, not Niagara, like the falls."

I question her.

"Yes, there is an extra a in there, its Ni-yag-uh-ruh."

"What a time to be alive," I close with.

"Huh, never realized that. I've been saying the name of the street wrong for all these years."

Don't you see? Don't you realize? The silently sarcastic jabs that go unnoticed like ass tickling during Mardi Gras aren't cutting it for me anymore! Challenging her only results in a wily defense of her incorrect opinion like the same bastard that cut open a cow and convinced an entire people that the intestines within are quite the eats! It's an unprovable venture that I want no part of. The duel of fates that I choose with this one will not be on her terms! They will be physical and savage! I will not release minuscule amounts of pressure building up in attempts to convince a common bait fish of my infallible position, there is no winning.  Henceforthwith, I will continue to stalk my prey and victory will be mine at the time of my own choosing. Perhaps even on the observation deck of Niagara fuckin Falls.  Good Christ, what a joke this one is.