Uh oh, emotions.

OH MY GOD. I hate everyone so much and stab in face and punch in head and I spit on your shoes and GODDAMNIT YOU ARE A WORTHLESS MACHINE.

Ahem, let me start from the beginning.

Deskmate has been in rare form these days, or maybe it's just me. But, guys, I'm dying over here. Don't believe me? Here's proof:


Why yes, I have been called a modern day DaVinci.

I don't want to sound ungrateful for my job, especially in these times, and I'm not. My co-workers are very relaxed and I like my job for the most part. But it's really easy, like second graders or monkeys or monkeys with a second grade education could do it. I really think it speaks volumes when you fail at a job that second grade monkeys (who probably took a break from throwing their own feces) could do.

I was wandering down the hall towards the printer, trying to get the hell away from Deskmate, when the printer starts beeping at me. It's not a friendly "Hey buddy, what's up?" beep either; it's a "I'm self aware and my only purpose on God's green earth is to annoy the holy hell out of you". What. The. Fuck. Printer. I thought we were pals. We've had some good times. I've printed out many a clip art riddled flyers on you. Do you know how much of my soul I had to repress to add clip art to those flyers?! I thought you liked all the colors and pictures of flying cakes. But you were pretending all along, weren't you? You heartless, lying succubus.

That's fine, Printer. You broke my heart. BROKE IT. And now? Now I'm going to break you.


Back up in your ass with the resurrection.

It is on, you fucking dinosaur. Welcome to the Axis of Evil, there's a seat over there next to Tyra's fat ass.

Anyway this goes down, someone is getting the stank eye from me all fucking day.

By the Power of Sam Elliot's Mustache

In the great city of Tucson, we have a little something called Rodeo Days. That is, we get two days off because the Rodeo decides to haul it's country ass into town. This is a big deal in our fair city. Schools close, businesses close, there's even a parade. A PARADE.

Funny thing is, nobody actually goes to the rodeo. Have you ever been to a rodeo? No, because they're boring. There's only so long I can watch a guy buck around on a bull (read: 8 seconds) before I want said bull to impale my skull because I'm so bored. And the rodeo clowns? Don't even get me started on those goofy bastards.

I'm not complaining though. I love any excuse to take two days off from school. It's just, I think the rodeo further perpetuates the stereotype that Arizona is still like it was in 1897.

I like to imagine that tourists are seriously disappointed when they come to Arizona. I mean, think about it. The only movies that feature Arizona are westerns. Tombstone, 3:10 to Yuma, Wyatt Earp and pretty much anything John Wayne or Sam Elliot ever starred in. People see those movies and are like, "Hell yeah! Let's go to Arizona so we can drink whiskey and wear chaps." People say that because the old west was badass, aside from all the tuberculosis and scalpings. Nothing will ruin a good whiskey buzz like not having a scalp.


Pictured: One of the most feared old west gangs, the Surly Bedwetters, led by the terrible Snotty Scotty Jones (first from right)

But the old west is in the past. It's yesterday's paper, baby. Old news. We don't ride horses in the street. I haven't seen a shootout in the streets outside a saloon since I lived in Nogales. Shit, can you even take a train to Yuma anymore?


"It's HOW FAR to Yuma? Fuck it."

I feel bad for people who travel all the way from, well, where ever it is that they're coming from to see Arizona, expecting it to still be old-westified. Sure, we have the Grand Canyon. And I guess Tombstone has a Cracker Barrel. And Bisbee has all those art snobs. But there's no shoot outs, nobody named Billy the Kid or any chance you can wander into a brothel. We're all "civilized" now with our fancy "technology" and and "laws". Turns out you can't just walk into a bar, take off your clothes and ask the bartender for a bourbon on the rocks and his finest whore. You'll get arrested if you do that. Something about indecent exposure and illegal prostitution. I don't know, I'm not a cop.

Yes, my friends, the old west is long gone. It only comes around one weekend a year now. And on this glorious, slightly retarded and always appreciated Rodeo Weekend, I will be nowhere near those bull-humping weirdos.

Instead, I'll be appreciating all the things time and knowledge has gotten us since the Wild West days, like the Internet and indoor air conditioning.