Shortly after losing Mommy. Loving school, hating integrating things. The little Jon-Jon by the teacher was my BFF. He married a bruiser from his section of Levittown. I was left over..and left Bowie 33 years ago.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Monday, May 23, 2016
(eyestrain alert.. will edit eventually.. or not...but I do want to throw chairs at the kid's therapist.)
It works.. if your shy or shady. Future so bright... gotta wear.. smh.. 33 years ago.. class of '83 graduated and some people pull really NASTY pranks on talented musicians and clock-loathing artists. By 1998, Y2K contracts to nowhere had us rebuilding server rooms for the MCSE cert generation. I remember a certain wannabe in Georgia...ProducerX... and a kid from McDonalds.... worst DJ to be EV-ER. The two of them bro'd out and I got nothing out of them on the gig. Y2K was a belated panic to fix a glitch (known for decades) with contractors in code they had no business and 1999 was the panic that created a bajillion dead end jobs and cut engineering by a buttload. CEO said, "She's cute and she works hard" before sending me to a accept a 4-year permanent gig... I'd interviewed or a gig in Minneapolis, but the derps got my appointment wrong. The company I ended up with bought them out. Then they bought the previous company I worked for. The Office Space scenario is a death sentence in every way. Artists stuck in cubie farms going deaf on tech support calls from derps making 3x your pay and then won't hire you on site when the middle man sells off the gig.....and doesn't advertise it unless a Democrat is in office wondering why mortgage-paying jobs paying 2x the neighborhood average were sold off to Google. We were building the internet, natcho 900 spank me service. good grief.. after awhile you could tell admins were calling in to be smacked around by a strong woman. I don't like cameras, but wow... I could act like I gave a crap about some nerds servers when they didn't know how to beg properly. I'll bet some training recording caught me dealing with an irate caller who upon demanding, "Who do you think you are?" received the answer, "Your Majesty", will do nicely, now do what I told you to do!" and the chagrin of hearing them try NOT to call you "Mommy"