The Quin Report

By Stephen P. Quin
I emailed this yesterday after the B's took Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

 Boston (QP)- I will always remember the smell at around 9:30PM on June 6, 2011. Victory never smelled so much like bacon being cooked.

Unfortunately it was a Pyrrhic victory as our most clutch soldier fell on the frozen grounds of the Garden. Struck down by an errant, and malicious, shoulder to the head. As I watched while Horton was in the throes of early rigor mortis, I found myself with some vomit in my mouth...and a multitude of questions as they sent him off the ice like a Viking funeral.
Would this galvanize the team? Shatter their psyche? Would the crowd put the green men's heads on pikes?Would Milbury zip line with his Salvation Army tie from the rafters and beat everyone with his shoes?

A 5 minute major power play did not instill much confidence, a listless response to a fallen hero had me confused, and a lackluster announcing team that wants to suck Vancouver's collective nether regions did nothing to calm my burning anger. To that point, Mad Jack Edwards was sorely needed. The first period left me confused, extremely angry, but at the same time deflated. The only saving grace was Thomas, who seemed hell bent on putting a chastity belt on that net.
I took that morsel of hope into the second period and then...a broken stick...an aggressive forecheck...a pass to the point...knuckle puck...screen...GOAAAAL!!!
Fast forward a little, what's that smell? sniff sniff...oh man that smells good. Marchand self passes. Is that bacon? Marchand outspeeds his defender. Cripes! That is bacon. Marchand patiently waits for Luongo to do his best earthquake safety drill. BACONNN!!!! Marchand roofs the puck for the knife, no bet yet, the machete to the chest. The rest of that period was a blur of Vancouver bodies being annihilated into the boards like cartoon characters.
The third period had more chips than a Lays bag. Vancouver was owned in the 2nd period through offense and grit. Then they were owned in the third period through defilement (see Milan Lucic's Dirty Sanchez to Burrows) and utter physical domination (see any number of destructive body checks). I've never seen fear on a hockey player's face before, but Burrows wore it like "The Scream" by Munch.
I hope the epliogue to this Stanley Cup run is that Horton makes a miraculous comeback in Game 6 and scores the game winning goal with a neck brace on.

Gets My Goat Series Entry 4- "You want misogyny...I'll give you misogyny"

Why is it that EVERY fucking female feels the need to put their arsenal of supplies on FAST food service counters? They need to have a fucking Express Male Correct Change Line for all of us "on the go" types.



"Medium Coffee please, $2.56. Here's $3."

See you later.

I’m out the door without my change. I don't care about those nickels. Thomas Jefferson can go lie in the change drawer with the rest of his cronies. My point is, I'm in and out.



However, these stupid women want a "Double Mocha Latte with extra sugar, a twist of lime, several varieties of cream, and a husband. Oh oh Yes and I’d like 25 munchkins and a dozen donuts...no no not that donut those are filled with carbs." (They are all filled with f'ing carbs you fat wilderbeast.)



Since none of the people speak English they come back every 2 seconds with "did you want sugar in that?" "how many munchkins did you want?" except it sounds more like "gooba dee baba go go?"



Then I look for other lines to go in and its the same across the board; Antsy males with their money ready just waiting to order their coffees all with the same exasperated air about themselves. I give them all the courtesy nod, roll of the eyes, and shake of the head as if to say "Women can't live with em, can't punch them in the face with brass knuckles".



After these whores finally finish their order they have to search through their entire bag for their purse so they can give exact change with the big bill they have in their hand because they think that is faster than just paying with the $20 bill they have in their hand at the moment.



Not to mention the fact that the people at the counter are just extra confused when you give them change on top of the $20, and it takes them an extra (I’m not exaggerating) 2 minutes to figure out that they have to press one extra button on the register to compute the denomination. Actually, in another instance I saw one registrar call over an f'ing manager to help with the math I've seen dolphins do on the Discovery Channel, but I digress.



So after they've taken everything out of their purse and put it on the counter that is already housing their scarf, mittens, walkman/iPod, keys, license, wallet, small child, and birth control pills they of course have to put everything back into the purse. I swear one of these days I'm going to push the bitch out of the way, open her bag, and just slide everything into it in a messy manner. Then upon finishing that I'll give her a swift kick in the ass. I realize I talk the talk, but it would be great to be able to do this once...just once and not have to suffer the consequences.

Few ways this could be avoided

1) DON'T hold the door open for ladies. You aren't going to get their number, they never say thank you, and they never give you a second glance. It would be funnier if you didn't open the door for them and let it shut in their face because they aren't expecting it and they end up walking into the door. High and mighty bitches...MEET GLASS!

2) All women should go to Starbucks. You are ordering the stupidest drinks ever anyway so you might as well go to the stupidest coffee place ever. You are trying to pretend to be crunchy granolie so you might as well go to the crunchiest place on the planet. Coffee Barista, fuck off. You like the place, that’s fine. Starbucks is great if you HAVE time to sit and relax and have a cup of whatever it is you get. You like variety so Starbucks is definitely the place for you. Dunkin Donuts is meat and potatoes; I shouldn't have to deal with Prissy Miss Bitchfest every morning. They shouldn't be mad at the world because they got a degree in Art History or English Lit and the only job they could get was a two bit secretarial job...NOW go get my coffee and then fax this over to more important people than you...



3) Make coffee at home or get coffee at work. A very simple solution, and one I have abided by for several years until this morning. Nothing has changed

Gets My Goat Series: Entry 3- "You Can Fight City Hall" & "Its the Little Things"

"You Can Fight City Hall"

 

 

After appealing my 3rd or 4th parking ticket, and winning each, I had to go back to my first one to see why I've become so successful at it.

 

June 17, 2010

Hearing Officer
Salem City Hall
93 Washington Street
Salem, MA 01970

RE: Parking Ticket Violation #3221926
To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to appeal parking ticket #3221926 from 6/3/10. The electronic parking machine was malfunctioning on the day in question and would not accept my card for payment. I did not have $2 cash on me at the time and the train was pulling in. I chose to catch the train as these machines have malfunctioned on many occasions.

 

Also, contrary to some people's belief, Good Samaritans do not exist. All of the people waiting in line looked at me like I had a cardboard cutout saying "Homeless, need $2 to live" after I asked if anyone had an extra $2. One person even spit on me, and another told me to get a job. I was wearing a suit. Its not as if I looked like this guy:

 

(I obviously did not put that picture or last paragraph in the letter...although maybe I should have)

Your office has probably heard numerous complaints since I saw a parking assistant down there the following Monday. I quickly blamed everything on him and would have promptly kicked him in the head, but he was wearing a neon orange protective vest coupled with an awesome moustache so I refrained from using force.

 

I do not have any additional supporting evidence other than a red face from anger, and a stubbed toe from kicking the machine (it wasn't wearing a vest).

I have enclosed a check for $2.00 as that is what I feel I owe. If my appeal is declined from this letter then I am requesting a hearing as stated in paragraph 2, sentence 2 on the violation.

Thank you in advance for your consideration on this matter.

Please contact me at (***-***-****) if further information is required.

Sincerely,


SPQ
Enclosure

"Its the Little Things"

 

 Here is a list of three things that were bothering me in March of 2010, and easily would still bother me right now if it happened again (which they have):

1) Blue Cross/Blue Shield sending me a healthcare survey without return postage. They'll send another one next month saying that I haven't filled out the survey, and so on and so on. I refuse to do a chore if I have to pay for it.

2) Stupid lady on the train who smushed next to me. First of all, she decides to eat a delicious looking muffin, which isn't that aggravating. However, if you are going to eat a piece of art you should treat it with respect. Instead, she made it look like garbage after she licked her fingers very loudly after every bite. Fair warning to my fellow Boston commuters, don't shake her hand if you see her (she looked like Ricki Lake). It was like watching a child eat a cookie for 5 hours, all soggy and linty.

3) People who don't understand the physics of multiple objects occupying the same space. Run on sentence alert! Folks, you can't walk down the middle of a flight of stairs that is about 20 feet wide side by side at a snails pace during foot traffic rush hour, and expect me not to push you out of the way. Think twice before "guffawing" because I didn't make the rules, science did.

 

 

Gets My Goat Series: Entry 2 "Cats" & "Baby Age"



Really? This is a comforting animal?



Why I Hate Cats:

A Rant Brought to You by SQ

There are times when you realize that your handheld technology is obsolete and you wish you could upgrade instantly. This morning on the train I wish my iPod volume could go to 11 (may bad things happen to you if you don't understand that movie reference) due to an inane conversation between 2 ladies about their respective cats.

I hate cats.

Why do people love these creatures? I'm not an animal lover in the first place, but cats? really? They are rude, sneaky, lazy, pee all over the place in an extremely smelly manner (I hate that smell in houses), and way too arrogant for an animal beneath me on the food chain.

I hate cats.

They don't even have a good connotation associated with their species as opposed to their more favorable pet counterparts, dogs. Consider the following:

1. Catfight vs. Dogfight- Ummm, YES I'd definitely want to be associated with a kickass aerial battle rather than a slapfest over some stupid topic.
2. Pussy vs. Puppy- I'd rather be associated with something cute and harmless rather than weak or timid.
3. Acting catty vs. Dogging it- I'd much rather be seen as lazy than bitchy and jealous for no reason.
4. Tom, Garfield, Snagglepuss, Heathcliff, Mongo, Riff Raff, Wordsworth, and Cleo (slutty vixen) were all assholes but Underdog, Clifford, Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, Brandon from Punky, and Odie were all heroic or kind.

I hate cats.

 

"But Steve they are great to have around the house because they kill mice and other rodents" Really? First of all, if you are living in a house with a mouse problem that bad then you have other problems. Secondly, DeCon also kills mice and other rodents but I don't slap a collar on it and call those boxes Sheba.

 

I hate cats.

 

I hate cats.

 

Who wants an animal that more than 10 million people in the U.S. alone are allergic to? Is there another living thing on the planet that can make you break out in hives, incite asthma attacks, and make you want to take your eyeballs out? (cue the "my wife/husband" jokes) Bees don't count because they are vital to our ecosystem and are just protecting themselves. Cats do it to us just to piss us off.

 

I hate cats, did I mention that yet?.

 

Why I Hate Some People Reason #431:

Referring to children's ages by months

 

I've lamented this fact on several occassions, but it still really bugs me when parents continue to refer to their childrens' age by months after they turn one. Your child is not 24 months, he/she is 2.

 

I don't want to have to do math when I am asking a simple question. Its like giving me metric measurements instead of English ones. This is America people, lets not start acting like those whacky Europeans.

 

Why do you parents do this? If its just because toy stores and baby clothes label packages that way then I have to say, "Stop!" because that's a lame excuse to keep using months as an age. People aren't always asking the child's age because they are going to run out to the store and buy them a onesy the minute they find out.

 

They ask because they are curious about a potential oddity. For instance, "Wow, he speaks pretty well, how old is he?...Oh 48 months old you say?" (snicker to yourself because he does not speak well at ALL for a 4 year old.)  or "Wow look at the size of that noggin, how old?"

 

I FULLY give anyone permission to punch me directly in the nose if I become part of the rabble after my child turns 1....or is close to 1. If my boy/girl is 6 months old, he/she is now 1/2 year old and when he/she turns 7 months-11 months he/she is "almost 1" or "he/she will be one in August".

 

 

 

Job Nostalgia: Administrative Meetings

Having wrapped up my first year at my new employment, it has led me to be nostalgic about my old job lately. I went back to my old files and writings. I used to gripe so much about it, its a wonder I lasted 8 years there!

For instance, this was another bane of my existence there:

I'm pretty damn sure that admin meetings could be the worst thing about any job EVER!  They are entirely unproductive and the notes I end up taking look like this:

That little stick figure guy is me being shot out of a cannon into a wall, conveniently labeled "wall" in case I didn't know when I was drawing the picture. 

The words "Common Sense" refer to what everyone in the meeting, except me, is lacking.  In fact, I wish I had a towel to wipe the common sense leaking out of their ears.

 

Today's agenda involved instant messaging and if it were SEC compliant to have it on desktops.  Initially I found this to be important until it dragged on for 45 minutes of heavy debate. I zoned out after 5 minutes and constructed the masterpiece above. All anyone needed to hear, or say, was a simple "yes" or "no" or "Let's defer this topic until I confer with our attorney or comparable business." 

Well, then why didn't you speak up and say this you ask?

Because there's a certain element of the office that loves the stench of the bullshit that they spew out of their mouths so any contrary idea quickly gets dumped on...loudly. It usually starts with, "AAAAACTUALLY..." and ends with "PLLLPHHHHT HEEE HAWWWW" or something to that effect.

That actually isn't one of the worst topics of discussion in one of these meetings.  The worst transgression came with the heated topic of what kind of drinks should be in the fridge.  That argument lasted a full 20 minutes, I shit you not!  I felt like I was on a prom committee or something stupid like that.  Anyway, once again, I'm angry. 

Office Feed Bag

One of the many things I do not miss about my old job is my desk's location. I had the displeasure of having an office that was situated in such a way that juuuuust outside of it was a seemingly unassuming filing cabinet. Nothing flashy, a few books and perhaps a plant at times. However, there were three extremely flattering features about this filing cabinet:

1) Allowed for ease of access with three entry points so it was a high traffic area
2) It was near my office and apparently I'm a magnet for miserable inane conversations
3) Perfect height for food placement

These 3 facts made for a nightmare environment to work in. It was the single reason I quit the job.

Conversations usually went:

Story teller: "Did you hear that (fill in person I don't know nor care about) had a (insert too much information) and then (insert something horrific happening)?"  

Responder: "GASP! (insert feigned expression of empathy, usually 'Are they OK?')"

That Story Teller would do the rounds 17 times and I'd have to hear it EVERY time. What made it worse is that Story Teller double dipped on certain people and told the story again and again...and again. Why would they linger? Because there was food on the goddamn table.

Anyway...that's a rant for another day. My point is the actual food being put on the cabinet and what it does to people.
For instance, one time someone bought donuts. Of course everyone, upon hearing the plastic crinkle of the Dunkin Donuts bag, comes swarming like a pack of vultures and/or hyenas. 

As you can see from my well crafted picture it is like Armageddon when food is available.

Again, that table is right outside my office so all I could hear was screeching, cackling, and a bunch of jockeying for position.  There's always someone who establishes themself as the alpha male and gets the prime choice followed by the rest of the lot who get the scraps. 

Here's my gripe about this particular occassion. Although it was REALLY nice of them to get the donuts(doughnuts?) which I don't eat anyway, but what on earth compels people to buy the old fashioned ones and the lemon filled ones? NO one eats them and they usually are thrown away or given to the vagrants who will literally eat anything. 

If you only wanted to buy 9 donuts then that’s all you should have bought. Buy a real dozen next time with all the chocolate, powder, and sprinkle fixings. 

Fatty McEatsalot

I decided to test the mettle of the Big N Toasty my brother has raved about with a lot of skepticism.

Let me just say...hot dang that's a good sandwich!

Course of events:

I swagger into D&D and order myself an iced coffee.

"Would you like anything else?"

I pause for effect and say, "I'll have a Big N' Toasty with sausage...bitch"

I may have said "please" instead of bitch, but whatever I'm allowed to embellish.

I look over to the sandwich making lady and scoffed at the bread they were going to use for the sandwich. Puhleeeze. I know bread, and that bread was weeeeeak!

I get my sandwich and go back to the office. Upon opening the sandwich, sure to be disappointed, I was completely baffled at what lay before me.

Did the sandwich grow in the bag?

After one bite I was sold. I didn't even need a drink since the bread had enough butter to quench the thirst of 100 popcorn bags.

Cheesy Exchanges

You ever have one of those exchanges with someone and happen to slip in a clever quip and then that other person has to one up you with another...then you have to do it back to them because you want to show them that you are on another level of cheese, and so on and so on?

Well, I pride, rather I shame, myself on being extremely corny. However, sometimes the ends justify the cheese because "punny" humor has to be nipped in the bud before it gets too out of hand. I like to lump all of the possible awful jokes into one exchange just to get the stupid conversation over with. For instance, I said this about my lunch once:

Me: “I brought a roast beef sandwich and some chips….I don’t know why I put the chips in the fridge with the sandwich, but I figured they didn’t want to be separated from each other.”

Responder: “Are they in love?  Will it last?”

Of course that person had to do that! Aggravated, I unleashed the following annoying paragraph:

Me: “Well, the chips relayed to me that they are feeling suffocated by the relationship, but I told them that’s because they were in a sealed Ziploc bag.  Roast beef views the chips as its ‘something on the side’.  I’m trying my best to keep the peace here, and I’m sure I’ll be able to stomach the situation at around 12:30.  Was that cheesy enough to kill it?”

It did not get a response. Mission accomplished.

The Color Purple

Seriously what is Grimace? I know its been asked, but what is he?

A gumdrop, partially melted barney?

Doesn’t Grimace have a negative connotation to it?

Shouldn’t his name be Shit-eating Grin? 

McDonald's has been going with a more urban theme the last few years…Maybe Grimace is supposed to be Grape Drink? (OHHHH NO YOU DIDN'T!)

I always feel like he should be wearing a diaper for some reason too. 

I think I’d flip out if I saw Grimace in person.  Flip out in a good way.  He really does make you laugh, I mean look at this picture...hilarious!

Gets more laughs than Ronald does. 

Ronald makes me uncomfortable. It is as if he’s a pedophile or something. Gives me that dirty priest/Michael Jackson vibe.

Why did they write Mayor Mcheese out of their scripts?  I thought he had potential, more than that stupid pigtailed duck thing “Birdie the Early Bird”. 

She’s not even a good flyer for Christ's sake! Always crashing into things and cutting people off. Way to get away from the stereotypes McDonald’s. 

The Hamburgler just got annoying, used to be about the burgers man. Yeah his fame went to his head along with the tons of lines of coke he did.  Never trust someone in prison fatigues I guess…once a con always a con. 

Boston Common Squirrels

I wrote this 6 years ago. Boston Common squirrels were decrepit looking creatures back then, and they are still disgusting now.

 Boston Common Squirrels

Growing up surrounded by various hobos and malcontents by night, and intelligent students, business elite, and lawyer folks by day, gives these squirrels on the Boston Common the street smarts as well as the book smarts to survive.  I, for one, am petrified of them. 

One time when I was walking hurriedly to the train late at night I saw a squirrel leaning against a tree with its hair greased back, a cigarette in its mouth, and a leather jacket to boot! 

He asked, "Got a light?" in a gravelly voice.

I responded nervously, "I don't sm...sm...smoke."  

He shrugged and pulled a match out. Then he lit it against the tree, and took a long drag off the cigarette.

I skittishly moved on with the irking sense that I was being followed.  Just as I was about to climb the stairs to freedom from the Common, another squirrel thug popped out from behind a tree! He flicked a switchblade open at me, and told me, "Give me dose roasted nuts, and don't try any funny business!" (he may or may not have said "See?" like they do in those old 50's gangster movies. Things were happening so fast.) 

I told him in an obviously scared manner, "I, I, I have no idea what you're talking. I can't eat nuts...I'm allergic to them." 

"Don't get smaht with me, see, I saw you buy them from that chubby asshole just a few minutes ago, see. Falk ovah the loot or I'll haveta gut ya"  

I tried to turn around to flee, but the bearer of the cigarette, "Smokey", was right there to cut me off!  He flicked the stub of what remained of his cigarette at my chest, burning embers included, and then made a nodding gesture toward the other lackey squirrel.

In a surprising show of quickness and agility the blade wielding squirrel made a move to my face, teeth reared back to show 2 vicious looking fangs, and knife splayed ready to strike.  I did the only courageous thing I could think of. I reached into my pocket for the nuts that I supposedly didn't have, and threw them at my assailant.  With my cloaking agent of caramel roasted nuts covering the air and ground I made my escape to the stairs. 

I have never used that route since. 

Gets My Goat Series

I forget when I wrote this, but it still holds up:

I really have gotten used to the crowded trains on the way into work despite my many complaints.  However, I can't let this latest transgression go unaccounted for.  I have attached a picture to give you a visual of the encounter I endured on my latest commute. 

As you can see this gargantuan man thought it would be nice to put his bulbous crotch right in front of my face.  His orangutan and sweaty like arms were hindering me from leaning back in my seat to avoid the zipper region facing me.  I couldn't decide which was the lesser of 2 evils; Should I lean back and perpetually puke in my mouth for 45 minutes or should I lean forward and hope beyond all hope that the already taut buttons on the painted on pants don't pop and I'm forced into a prison scene rivaled only from the movie Shawshank Redemption?  I couldn't very well alternate between the 2 because then it would look like I was actually engaging in the act I was trying to avoid in the first place.  I decided the only course of action was Operation Newspaper Shield and iPod volume on optimum levels (figured that would shut up the voices in my head that were screaming and crying).  I raised my crossword puzzle up to shield this Dockers nightmare in front of me, and I blacked out the rest of the way.

I have taken proper care to show you the 5 free seats that were available at the time.  You ask, "Why didn't you get up and move to one of the free seats?" 1) My drawing is no exaggeration, he really was engulfing me as such from the front, fruit eating lady to my left flank, and people's feet on my right route 2) Just on principal I couldn't move, I was there first and that fat ass should have gone, PLUS IT WAS ONLY THE SECOND STOP!!! he had to stand right there? there's so much free room goddamn it. 3) My legs were powerless due to his odor filled clutches.  I felt like I was caught in a comic strip at that moment, "Can't...move...must...get to..new seat...odor...draining strength..arggghh!"  

Yes my face was that red.

Who Invited That A$$hole?

You're goddamn right I decided to jump on the online journaling bandwagon, or as you of the technological universe call it, "blogging".

I'm adverse to using that word. I don't like it. It is up there with "uber" and "moist".

Being the first journal entry, I guess I am supposed to regale you with what you should expect from my ramblings. Well, too bad. There is no theme, no direction, no rhyme or even reason (GASP!) to these writings. Take that, structure!

Much of the posts in the beginning will be repeats that most of you may have read in the past, but I'll filter in some unique gems from time to time hopefully.

Please enjoy my words from left to right.