Fun at the Gym

The first thing I do in the morning, before firing up my computer, before checking my email for all them comments I’m getting, and before I click on the “Publish ” button and send another Hallucination out into cyber-space, is get a cup of coffee and do fifteen minutes of stretching on my living room floor.  Then it’s off to the Gym on my bicycle where I “pump iron” (do weight training ) for 30 to 40 minutes.  What a great way to start the day, all pumped up, with them few remaining drops of testosterone circulating through my system.  A true natural high.

Well, as great as all that macho bullshit is, what’s even more fun, is fucking with my good old ultra conservative , right wing Tea Party buddy Mike.  Instead of starting the morning with some yoga-like stretching and a meditative bicycle ride to the Gym, he hops in his car, turns on Hate Radio, and gets his morning blast of uber right-wing talking points.  And boy oh boy is he ever ready to unload all that crap on some poor hapless liberal who may be working out next to him.

Well, being a hapless, but not so poor, liberal (plus socialist to boot), and on top of that, a phun-loving guy who like who likes to phuck with those in need of a good phucking; I jumped on an opportunity to push his Tea Party button the other morning.

He was on the stationary bicycle (a great metaphor for those on the right who although peddling their asses off, are going nowhere), and on some sarcastic rant about how ‘great’ (turning to shit) things are in California.  When I replied from the other room, “They sure are, gay marriage is now legal again!”  [The Supreme Court having just shot down the Defense Of Marriage Act as unconstitutional].  Well sure as shit, and like Wernher Von Braun shooting off a V-2 missile, that set his ass on fire and into orbit.  When he said something about next you’ll be able to marry your dog, I shot back with, “Yeah, but only one; more would be polygamy” [a cheap shot at Mitt Romney and his Mormonism].  That sure ignited stage two of his rant, whereupon I said, ” I think people ought to be able to phuck anything they want”, proceeded to do my last set of curls and left with a smile on my face.

That was a great work-out. I think old Mike is still somewhere in orbit around Orange County.

Hansi on Hiatus

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find myself in a rut, doing the same old thing over and over and over again, but am too compulsed to quit or try something new.  It gets depressing at times, and Depression is a real bummer. Well…I was a tad bummed out for a while and even thought about stopping blogging; taking a break, re-charge my batteries, all that good stuff.  But that was BHD (before Hot Dog Man – not to be confused with BFD which is Big F***ing Deal).

What’s really cool about WordPress is being able to save stuff as a rough draft and publish it latter.  That’s what I did with this blog post (actually written May 8th).  I had quit blogging, wrote about it, saved it as a rough draft,  and am now publishing it.  So here’s a couple of things I did in late April, before Hot Dog Man.  Nothing like a new rut, to get ya out of an old one.  Pretty wild, doncha think?

Phucking With Phone Solicitors

It’s War!  And I’m doing battle with a daily barrage of phone solicitations from telemarketers tryin’ to sell me a bunch of crap I do not want, nor have any interest in whatsoever.  Plus, it’s not just me, all my friends who have land-lines, aren’t answering their phones anymore, and are letting them go over to their answering machines [an interesting concept, a machine that could give you answers, but are in reality, just a device to record bullshit], as a means of screening all the solicitations they’re also getting.

I registered with the Do Not Call registry, but that could take up to thirty days to kick in.  I told one telemarketer to take me off their list, and she had the nerve to argue with me and try to persuade me that I was acting rashly.  The nerve!  It’s turning into survival mode here at the Hansi household.

I’m fightin’ back though.  Just the other day, I got a call for some guy asking, “Is Hansi there?”  Actually, he didn’t ask for “Hansi”, he used my real first name and badly pronounced my last name.  If he did ask for Hansi, I would have known it was one of you guys, and not some stranger that I’ve never met before.

Anyway, he asked for Hansi, and I asked back, “Who is this?”  He said is name was Larry something or another, and went on to say that he was with a construction company I never heard of, and so and so on, when I said, “Hi Larry”.

He greeted me back, and went on with his spiel about remodeling and so on, when I once again said (sounding like a complete simpleton), “Hi Larry”.  Well that threw him off a bit, but being the pro he was, and probably having said the same thing at least a hundred times already that day, continued on without breaking stride.

After about fifteen more seconds, when he asked me a question, I once again (sounding like I just fell off the turnip truck) said, “Hi Larry”.  I could now tell that he was getting a little frustrated, but deter him, it did not!  It was after the fourth time, when I said in a manor indicating that I was just born yesterday,  “Hi Larry”, that he said, “I’m getting tired of talking to a moron, I’m hanging up.”  Whereupon I replied: “So am I…Bye Larry”.

Well there’s nothing like put short-term memory loss to good use, while having a little fun at someone else’s expensive.  I think next time I get one of them telemarketing calls, I’m gonna try some heavy breathing into the phone, and maybe some moaning and groaning, and who knows?  Even a climatic scream of ecstasy if I’m in the mood.

Working

I know a lot of you who read this blog, and even some of you who just look at the pictures, are retired or semi-retired.  I’m retired, and have been so for the last nine years.  Retirement is great!  And I sure hope it’s great for you too.  But here’s the thing (a strange thing): I’m still working.  And stranger yet, I’m working for my former employer, doing the same thing I did when I was making a “career” outta it.

Financially, it’s really a good thing.  I’m making more money per hour than I was before retirement.  And earning the same as the rest of the poor schmucks eating dung in the Probation Department full time.  Oh Yeah…I was a probation officer for 28 years.  Pretty trippy.  It blew my mind too.  I still can’t believe it.

Anyway, working for your former employer, on a part-time, extra-help basis, while not only good financially, allows me to use former work skills [In my case, fucking with people and jumping in their shit], plus, keeps ya sharp, and gets my ancient ass outta the house. I’d probably be laying around in La La-land all day drivin’ The Wife crazy.  So it relieves a lot of suffering, and someone jumping in my shit.

But not so for the folks I gotta deal with at work.  I don’t wanna go into big detail about what I do, and all the mindless bureaucratic bullshit that goes into helping another P O monitor a barely manageable 2000 person first-time drunk driver caseload, but if I process some paper work or prepare a court document, you can rest assured that some poor turd will be suffering soon.  Being on the inside of a “Big Government” machine that is able to impose it’s will upon people and make them do stuff they really don’t want to, never ceases to blow my mind.   I didn’t ‘live and breath’ all that law enforcement crap when I was a PO; was more of a social worker type, and wanted my clients to succeed.  There’s no joy  inflicting added grief onto people whose lives are already a mess.

So why do I do it?  For the Money!  It’s easy. A no-brainer.  Only a mild inconvenience on my free time.  I’m only selling my time ( I prefer think of it as “renting” it). Not working for my former employer would kinda be like NOT stealing candy from a baby.  That’s one view.

Any of you dealing with similar issues?  If you are, let me know.  This working in retirement is not all fun and games.  On the two days I do go into work, I gotta shower, shave and put on a shirt that has buttons.  That’s asking a lot, money notwithstanding.

Mixing Styles

It was bound to happen.  I can’t go on with this Hot Dog Man stuff forever.  Although it’s sure coming easy right now.  All I gotta do is draw a simple sausage-like shape, unzip my imagination, add eyes and extremities, and Pesto! Out pops Hod Dog Man.

As cool as that is, my other drawing style (for lack of better words) is languishing in all this weenie-madness.  So I thought that maybe I should mix the two styles.  Hey…there’s ‘mixed drinks’, ‘mixed emotions’, and ‘mixed marriages’.  So mixing things is rarely bad, but being mixed-up is a common affliction that afflicts 47% of the population.  Mixed stuff can also be little toxic, like drinking white wine after red (or is it the other way around?), or  casing a beer with a shot of whiskey. [I personally try to take the “toxic” out of my intoxications].  So here’s a mixture of styles from someone who’s a little mixed up.

Phone Calls

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been getting a shit-load, and I’m talkin’ cargo container size (size does matter, or at least that’s what the bulk of my emails assure me) of  telephone solicitations lately.  Now a days, the majority of the calls we get, is someone wanting to sell us something.  And they always call at dinner time.

Hell’s Bells.  I don’t wanna buy anything.  In fact, I wanna save money, or at least conserve it.  That’s why I thought I’d save a dollar a month on my phone bill, by no longer having an unlisted number.  Boy did I fuck-up with that one.  I had to have an unlisted number for thirty years when I was fighting crime at the Probation Department…  Didn’t want my name and number and address listed, in case  one of my probation clients decided that he was the one who was gonna make a home call this time.  So this is the first time Hansi, or as my clients called me, “Mr Hansi” (dumb shits) is in the phone book.

Well, sure as shit, I’m getting barraged with a ton of callers who sound like  former clients gone straight, and have now pursued a career in Tele-marketing.  Sure seems like Karma is coming around and biting me in the ass..

Hot Stuff

I don’t know about you, but when it comes to stuff, I like mine hot!  Be it dripping with passion, an extreme style statement, or just a groovy idea, Stuff is always better when hot, and never lukewarm.

And if your preference for stuff is hot, then it goes without saying (although I’m sayin’ it right now) – you never want stuff cold.  That would be like showing up for dinner late, and instead of finding it nice and warm, it turned cold [which is okay if you’re eating something like sushi].

So here’s some hot stuff from me to you.  Not so hot that it’s boiling and could scald ya, but warm to the touch.  Just a shade over body temperature.  Unless of course you’re having a hot flash.

I’ve had flashes before, and even wished some of em were hot.  But not so hot that I wanted you to get your sweaty hands off of me, throw back the bed covers and start fanning myself for all I’m worth.