In one of my many random thoughts, I sense that there are territories through the Bay Area.
It’s like one friend knows another friend. The buck teeth guy from long ago likes to talk and get along with people.
During one of my archiving activities, I saw an old receipt from an automotive repair service, which is located near the Santa Clara Fair Grounds in downtown San Jose, CA.
The place is mostly Vietnamese. So right there you could further assume the network goes that far.
Holy crap! I’ve been noticing people and this one Chinese guy, who works in the assembly/production area. He’d walk fast to the printer, shuffles his legs around, back and forth and shakes both his arms in the air, well, almost snaps his wrists like a gang member. I suppose he has a medical condition. But it’s okay for now as long as he doesn’t harm himself or others.
All I could do is feign a smile, or give a wide grin while avoiding his gaze. This includes the creepy troll, Hoan, who has nothing do to but print out his homework, stand near the printer to pretend reading the print out and wave and smile at me or visit the temp girl next to me. Yuch!
“Jerk”! I said aloud. “Lay of the caffeinated teas!” The stupid Ch!nk was in a hurry and almost hurt someone passing through the back door. He didn’t even say sorry to the lady! That’s NOT the first time someone almost got hurt!
I’m f^cking pissed off at this cheap place! Either fix the back door now or die! I don’t care, just die!
These damn FOREIGNERS, who practice their stupid tradition of making LOUD and unnecessary noises, such as coughing and slamming doors, drawers and cabinets, to make their presence known or to ward off evil spirits, are either annoying or capable of hurting people, who don’t give a damn.
“Maybe God knows you won’t get your money back because you’d misuse your fortune in the wrong way. The wealth you hope to gain is not yours. Work hard and save your own money when you get old because no one will help you.” Maw had told me last Saturday.
“Can’t you take a hint? They’ve been telling you that you’d be paid last December, January, February, March and now April! Aren’t you afraid of not getting your money back?” Maw had inquired of me last night after I’ve administered an injection.
You are ABSOLUTELY correct Maw. That’s why the TPTB truly hates me. That’s why the Feds failed to help people like me. That’s why the founder of Wikileaks is still in jail and his website has long been taken down. That’s why my blog posts already threw out lots of hints and links to certain articles for Obama and pals to take a look.
In my humble but humored opinion, Obama is an embarrassment to America. He is supposed to wake up people and tell the truth so hard-working, tax-paying citizens like me won’t deny ingnorance. That’s why I feel “business as usual” has got to stop.
Sometimes, I feel that Sharia law in America is good at chopping the heads of those who practice usury and its prostitution for those who don’t have a full-time job. Imagine suing poor folks. Imagine kicking families out to the streets for being dead beat bums.
I see how businesses profit, by not MATCHING or at least exceeding demand and HIGH expectations of their customers. That’s why consumers are being “scalped” to pay more than necessary. And this is for lining the pockets of profiteers. Tell me I’m wrong: You’d never see prices for food and gasoline go down, ever.
Holy crap! Ten minutes ago, I saw a full time staff from the assembly/production use a back scratcher! He’s a senior citizen with a bald head and white mustache, kinda like a biker, black jeans (without the butt cheeks exposed) and such.
I still have some nail clippings on the floor near the drawers at work. It goes to show that this place so cheap that they won’t vacuum the place, hire us three temp workers full time, replace the noisy lock clutch at this SLAMMING back door or relocate me to less distracting, more Feng Shui compliant workstation. Even Nam didn’t want this workstation. Morons!
At 12:57pm, I saw yet another spook get out of his white-colored, long-bed truck. Instead of being parked off the street, the vehicle was parked on the south section of a parking lot, located across from the front building to this “temp job from hell”. As I approached from the east and towards the west, the white guy quickly came out from the “passenger” side of the car and opened the white-covered trunk.
And after rounding the corner to another street, I looked behind my right shoulder and saw that the trunk was closed and the guy was nowhere in sight. And just when I thought to have a nice lunch at home, I come back to work and see more agents making their presence known to moi. It doesn’t bother me if I’m THAT popular without truly knowing why. What bothers me is that I’m not nearly close enough to knowing the truth.
Have you noticed how profiteers line their pockets with donations after catastrophic events, such as alleged “acts of God(s)” though floods, earthquakes and recently in Japan, tsumani? Have you noticed how “God and pals” is being protrayed as the embodiment of blame for the nefarious and infantile behaviors of certain occultic entities from the “Dark Side”?
“Be careful of those non-profit seeking, charitable organizations!” said a benevolent to moi many slong yearas ago.
When crisis arise, don’t donate, especially to the bloody, RED CROSS. Don’t let pain and suffering pull at your heart strings. Be prayerful and fight these deceptive practices spewed forth by mainstream media and the propanda machines. The politicians, military and banksters have much to explain.
This planet and its habitants are amazingly resilient. Take care of yourself first and your IMMEDIATE surroundings and families, too. You have local homeless folks that need help. Others from the other side of the world have each other, you know!
Watch the gasoline prices go up due to the continued Middle East crisis by Muslims and oil-rich pals. If there will be alternative sources of FREE energy, we could finally enjoy our long-awaited jet packs and my hover crafts!
While scanning and coding my old statements, I recall a guy telling me: “You don’t even have that much money.” At that time, I had wanted to invest some money and he referred me to one well-known brokerage firm via his friend, Vicki. When I applied to open an account with them, I had put his “nickname” and full last name a referral. The customer service representative called me back to confirm the name of that person and I believe that I pronounced his full name, including his middle initial “J”.
Fast forward 14 years later, I’m still a customer of that place. If you know my true agent name, it’s on a general search online. The site in which my name happens to appear has a designated double digit. For the sports fan, the last name is also familiar. And it’s no wonder he bumped me off. He’s related to a group of “fellow brothers”, I assume of course. Because as I mentioned in my previous blog entries, no one would get into that league a “mile high” without connections, not that it has anything to do with “Chicago” style type songs. But you get the idea.
So little Theresa said there was this cute guy working near her cubicle. She told me to visit her workstation a couple of hours ago but didn’t see her sitting at her desk.
After faxing my timesheet ten minutes ago, I decided to visit again and found her filing paperworks in the binder on the floor.
I told her that I was late and was on my way to the break room to get some hot tea. She merely smiled up at me; went across to the guy’s desk; and offered him something to drink, which he declined.
I wasn’t excited when she first mentioned the guy because I already had someone handsome “in mind”. But like many of my past fantasies, I expected to be disappointed as usual this time.
And sure enough, he was a tubby runt and wore a moustache. I hate guys with facial hair! It’s annoying! Seriously, I’d get injured from facial hair! They are either cops or hiding something grotesquely ugly undernearth all that hair.
The guy reminded me of Adolfo from my first data entry job formerally located at Sunnyvale, CA. Adolfo too was short, tubby and had a moustache similar to that of, you guessed it, Adolf Hitler, but wider. He was a divorced guy with lots of dandruff falling over his clothes. I’m getting itchy just thinking about working with that creep over ten years ago.
So as she bade me farewell for a good afternoon, I walked quickly away in disgust and flicked her off mentally. That’s it for this afternoon. I shall feel like hurling now after yet another Filipino guy with facial hair. It’s not cool!
“Isn’t this romantic? If only you were a guy…” said little Theresa en route back to work from Phở Việt – Taste Of Vietnamese Noodles. I had carpooled the both of us to eat OUTDOORS in the freezing cold because we couldn’t wait for the long line. But after eating my bowl of soup, I was warm. The Sriracha hot sauce made the soup taste much better and opened my slightly congested sinuses. Of course, I had to be VERY careful and NOT be rude to her and so petted the top of her head a couple of times and replied nicely and in jest, not taking her seriously: “Maybe in the afterlife…”.
Should I be concerned that a “happily” married, Vietnamese woman with three children is fantasizing about moi as a man in her life? Perhaps, she is bi-sexual or gay! She happens to be a VERY devout Catholic, like her half-White husband. No wonder she kept mentioning her burning in hell. During our lunch walk together, she did mention that she’d could just die. Right, there she may have severe depression. Yikes!
I told here there’s the Golden Gate Bridge where people jumped off to their death in apparent suicides while photographers are stationed nearby to capture the moments of doom. She then recapped about a teenager who survived his stunt last week or so but she said it wasn’t his time to die and so lived to get booked by the police. So whatever is going on with that woman, God forgive her. She had asked me to pray for her after yesterday’s walk.
But she is friendly enough to have bought me today’s large (or “lung”) sized bowl of seafood soup (one crab leg, three triangular-shaped squid of white, and three large shrimp tails) with optional rice noodle instead of yellow (egg) noodles. And later on, we looked at some baked bread at Starbucks. I bought one iced lemon cake, one apple fritter and one marble pound cake for Maw and Paw later on tonight for eating after dinner. For what’s it worth, I offered to buy her a strawberry muffin, which she accepted but not quite enthusiastically. The VERY tall, but light-skinned black girl had a quite attitude as she stuffed a paper bag with my goodies. Little Theresa didn’t like the server’s imperfection because she dropped my apple fritter on the floor. It was still in the bag and good to go.
“Would you like to invest your time here?” asked the temp guy. I replied: “I have no further comment.” Honestly, I’m sick of being bored at this “temp job from hell”.
During one of a post Christmas gathering at our local parish hall last year, an old couple came by; chatted a bit and introduced themselves.
Of course, I couldn’t resist showing them my real name and proudly so: the temp badge, which had the name of the company. The old lady tried to pronounce my last name with some difficulty. Then, she pointed at the company logo and said: “Oh, that place.”
Right there, she probably knows something about this place. It wasn’t a good feeling. Because people with good feedback would normally show enthusiasm on their faces and their voices would change to a higher pitch and the conversation would become more engaging.
To the dummy: You may be nice and pretty but you’re still fat. When and if you happen to have re-searched about me online (and I know you already did), count on being on the “hit list” of trolls. You’ve been playing dumb at this “temp job from hell” and yet y’all believe in an Armaggedon. Did you know your religious organization wants a 2012? It’s because it’s all about business of selling fear and making poor folks pay their thithes of 10 percent. I know you like my double digit numbers, which explains why you keep getting up and using the toilet, say, around the designated :55 and :11 minutes, which are fine by me. So I can’t wait to go away and be free from being a cubicle slave, that’s if you want it so bad.