<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718</id><updated>2012-02-16T11:32:46.536-08:00</updated><category term='Work'/><category term='abortion'/><category term='Starbucks'/><category term='America'/><title type='text'>Things Baker Thinks About...</title><subtitle type='html'>If you don't like vulgarity don't read, there's your one warning.  Pretty much about anything that I feel I need to gripe about to no one and everyone at once. Updated at least once a week sometimes...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-7280152173743122960</id><published>2008-06-16T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T19:51:02.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Dressed Up On Wedding Day, Keep On Trippin' Anyway</title><content type='html'>Black people shouldn't cross the street at night.  It had to be said, and I said it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-7280152173743122960?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/7280152173743122960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=7280152173743122960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7280152173743122960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7280152173743122960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/06/all-dressed-up-on-wedding-day-keep-on.html' title='All Dressed Up On Wedding Day, Keep On Trippin&apos; Anyway'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8387913646934710075</id><published>2008-06-11T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T19:54:12.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth Hurts So Bad, Wouldn't You Say? So Why Tell It...</title><content type='html'>So my place of employment is exactly like fucking high school. Instead of concentrating on doing your job collecting your check and getting the fuck out of there, people concentrate more or less on who's seeing who, who's fucking who, and who hates who. I thought last June when I graduated from high school that maybe I'd finally be able to leave behind all the fucking bullshit that is incorporated with everybody's business. I wish that I could just show up for my fucking goddamn job one mother fucking day and fucking do my job without somebody that I really could give two fucks about asking me if I'm fucking this person, or if I'm dating that one. No, I'm not fucks, now if you could kindly fuck off and fucking fall off the face of the Earth that would be extremely helpful to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, on the home front I think that I've found the best group of friends that I've ever had in my life. People who will accept me for who I am and not who they want me to be. People who seem to genuinly like having me around and you know what, it makes me so much happier to finally find people like that, I've been looking for a while now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work over the past few days has fucking sucked asshole. It's been anywhere from 90 to 100 degrees over the last few days and I'm out in the fucking parking lot pulling in carts and loading a/c's for everyone and their mother fucking mother. So, I'm fairly sure that I've lost a few pounds just from sweating my fucking balls off over the past three days of work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all I have to say right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8387913646934710075?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8387913646934710075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8387913646934710075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8387913646934710075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8387913646934710075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/06/truth-hurts-so-bad-wouldnt-you-say-so.html' title='The Truth Hurts So Bad, Wouldn&apos;t You Say? So Why Tell It...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8332585135676917315</id><published>2008-05-27T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T10:07:29.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Are Letting You Get Away With It</title><content type='html'>So last Friday was a pretty fucking good day for me after my lunch hour.  I had gone to the bank on my lunch hour that day and when I punched back in from my lunch Haley tells me that I allegedly missed Aaron Lewis shopping in our Pittsfield store.  I actually thought that she was lying to me.  Then after I had clocked out for the day Haley had put some things aside for him and he came back and went to the service desk for his things and asked for Haley.  Sharon was up at the desk and ripped into Haley for putting things aside for him which I guess she wasn't supposed to, I guess it was just a huge misunderstanding.  Then he gave Sharon an attitude about yelling at Haley and walked away from her after snatching his receipt out of her hands and giving her a dirty look which Haley said was priceless.  She called and told me this story while I was on the bus home and it made my day that Aaron Lewis was a dick to my supervisor.  Haha, that's greatness right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note he was in again yesterday because he obviously has more money than he knows what to do with and I saw him with my own eyes so I now believe that the previous story did actually happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to last Friday, I get off the bus after being amped up about the to do at work.  They have fucking Main St. in North Adams blocked off.  I guess some guy from Schenectady New York tried to rob the North Adams Hoosac Bank.  Which was stupid of him seeing as the police station is a hop, skip, and a jump from that bank.  When I get into town there are random duffel bags laying all over the street and everyone is just staring at them.  I call my uncle and he tells me that these are bombs.  I was like, "No Shit! I'm looking at bombs...in North Adams"  Nothing this cool ever happens here.  So I walk over towards Big Y where there is a single van parked in the parking lot and it's the guys van.  Where he was keeping his pit bull because all badass robbers with TNT strapped to their chest and in Duffel bags have Pit Bulls to guard their vans.  It's just so much shit happening in North Adams.  Nothing ever happens here. Well, now it has.  Blew my fucking mind I was calling everyone in my goddamned phone to tell them. Crazy Shit.&lt;br /&gt;So, since yesterday been listening to a new band that is opening for Nine Inch Nails on their upcoming tour.  Does It Offend You, Yeah?  check them out, very dancey and electronic.  It's something different I like it.  Also, I have acquired the new Weezer album, "Weezer (Red Album)"  I also have been digging that today.  That's about it for today.  So, whatever.  Oh, yeah, Fuck You Mike Jezak for being all like, "write a damn blog" fucking bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8332585135676917315?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8332585135676917315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8332585135676917315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8332585135676917315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8332585135676917315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/05/we-are-letting-you-get-away-with-it.html' title='We Are Letting You Get Away With It'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-4957325705341292337</id><published>2008-05-19T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T21:16:25.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Not Giving You An Attitude, I Just WANT Another DRINK</title><content type='html'>So a couple of days ago whilst at work I got a call to go see the managers in the computer room. So, I was thinking that I was in some trouble possibly fired. I get back there and my manager tells me that somebody took a shit on the floor and that it needs to be cleaned up. I was like fuck that shit, I don't get paid enough. Needless to say I was walking towards the human shit while this conversation was going on because I am a spineless fuck when it comes to telling people off in management positions because I need my weekly paycheck. Well, I ended up not actually picking up the shit itself. The ASM did that with a rag himself. I did follow him around with the mop though. I think it was some kid that shit their pants because it wasn't like a pile of shit, it was like a few little nuggets. Some little girl did step in it though and I thought. That. Was. Hilarious. I'm horrible. I know. I'm going to hell. Whatever. Fuck it. She was tracking it down a hallway and our manger had to explain to her parents what happened. HAHA. Well, it was an humourous and disgusting experience all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put in for a vacation for the first week of June, maybe I'll get it, maybe I won't, I hope I do because I need a vacation before I start causing bodily harm to anyone and everyone within the confinment of that shithole. I just need a week of nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On May 9, 2008 I took my vow to become sober for a while to dry myself out. I have a very addictive personality and I had felt myself on a downward spiral with drinking. It was getting so bad that I was having cravings while at work for a drink. I don't know how long I want to stay sober. I know that it's not for long. I don't even think it's for much longer. I just know that it's been about 11 days now. Which is good since I was intoxicated every night for almost two weeks when I wasn't at work. I figured that I'd give myself two weeks or so, so that I could not have withdrawls and shit anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I've been giving much love to Clutch. I love their music. Everything from their early nineties punk/metal phase to late nineties classic rock phase which evolved into their now classic rock/bluesy sound that they have on their latest album "From Beale Street to Oblivion". They had awesome songs such as "Careful With That Mic" from the album "Pure Rock Fury", "Power Player" (which this blogs title comes from a line in that song" off of "From Beale Street to Oblivion", "The Mob Goes Wild" (awesome Anti-Bush shit, I'm in love with political music) off of "Blast Tyrant", and "Burning Beard" and "10001110101" off of "Robot Hive/Exodus". Check some of that shit out if you're fucking bored and love muzak. That's enough of my musical boasting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't have much else to say at the moment but, if I think of something I'm sure it will be said eventually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-4957325705341292337?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/4957325705341292337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=4957325705341292337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4957325705341292337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4957325705341292337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-not-giving-you-attitude-i-just-want.html' title='I&apos;m Not Giving You An Attitude, I Just WANT Another DRINK'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-4629712130605915990</id><published>2008-05-09T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T21:20:39.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Do It For The Love, That I Get From The Bottom Of A Bottle</title><content type='html'>So last night I was at Cumberland Farm's with Jess and while we were inside a cop car comes pulling up very fucking fast with the lights a flashing.  We were outside and we saw a plain clothes cop go running to the car and yell out "Hey you called the wrong buddy tonight!" It was a fucking drug bust.  It was fucking awesome.  Cops were pulling up and took them out and cuffed them, read them their rights and then when the cop was questioning one of them he was going through the kids pockets and pulled out the kids cell phone and said, "You told me you had a cool cell phone." It was fucking hilarious.  I love real life episodes of cops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-4629712130605915990?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/4629712130605915990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=4629712130605915990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4629712130605915990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4629712130605915990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-do-it-for-love-that-i-get-from-bottom.html' title='I Do It For The Love, That I Get From The Bottom Of A Bottle'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-2332023456534932966</id><published>2008-05-09T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T21:19:45.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need Your Dicsipline, I Need Your Help...You Know Once I Start I Cannot Help Myself</title><content type='html'>So I am allegedly getting my check from the government quite soon.  That's how fucking shitty our government is.  They promise us these fucking stimulus checks and then everybody wants to know when we will be getting them so we can do some economy stimulating, but alas they tell us all technically when we are getting them.  Something to do with your Social Security Number.  Whether you got direct deposit and all kinds of shit.  What time of the day you were born and whether or not you smoke and if you like to wad your toilet paper or fold it are all very very important government stipulations to find out when you should get your stimulus check.  Why not just fucking send them out alphabetically by last name.  Do something easy to understand so you don't have to do fucking math and shit to figure out when you are getting it you can look at a chart and go, "Oh, my last name ends with a "B" therefore I should get my check between this date and this date.  I fucking hate our government, if it wasn't such a hassle I would go to school in Canada and just fucking live there for the rest of my life.  Our government has become so fucked up and corrupt that we can't do anything or say anything at all without the fear of having broken our laws.  This country is nothing like it used to be or originally stood for.  This country fucking stood for freedom and being able to do what you like.  That's what it was founded for way back when we were being dictated by a king in mother Britain.  We have reverted back to that day in age when we have a huge talking head dictating what's wrong, what's right, what to say, and when to fucking piss.  I think that's it for the politics for the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm probably about to break the rules right now but, I don't give a shit.  On Wednesday I was sat down in the principal's office and got slapped on the wrist at work.  I was sat down by mom and dad and told that I've been a bad boy.  I know that mom will most likely eventually read this but it's nothing personal but every child that gets yelled at is a bit bitter afterwards.  So apparently I talk too much.  I talk to this person and that person and yada yada yada.  Alright, I do do this and everyone else does in the corporation, yet, I was the one who was caught this time so ok I'll take that one.  My bad.  So another thing that I've been doing is shirking my responsibilities as a lot attendant.  Ok, so I don't push carts 100% of the time.  I go and help in other departments.  Sometimes they are short handed and have an influx of customers so I go help expedite a bit.  Sometimes they grab me to help out because they just need that extra set of hands.  So, I can't do any of that anymore unless the parking lot is spotless.  Alright, so the company, when you are first hired, indoctrinates you to "bleed orange" by showing you videos for 10 hours on how we "help in all departments" and how we are all a "family" at work and when I try to live out these values day to day on the sales floor I get reamed out because there are carts out in the lot.  Whatever, man I'm just so fucking sick of this shit in this fucking place, really all I have to do is make it until September 6 and then I'll be gone.  I need out. Bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-2332023456534932966?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/2332023456534932966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=2332023456534932966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2332023456534932966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2332023456534932966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-need-your-dicsipline-i-need-your.html' title='I Need Your Dicsipline, I Need Your Help...You Know Once I Start I Cannot Help Myself'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8580126838825460094</id><published>2008-05-03T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T20:16:06.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Alone I Fall to Pieces</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So today I am composing this blog after drinking about 17 White Russians and I am currently cranking some Saul Williams...check his shit out maybe you'll like and maybe you won't see if I give a fuck man.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I fucking love the word fuck.   It's just so fucking great man it just rolls off the tongue man.  Say that shit....fuck fuck fuckity fuck...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So I went to a funeral for my cousin Kathleen today.  We weren't close at all but it still sucks to have your family dying out.  Well, while we were at the funeral home today, man, I figured out what I would like in place of the prayer section of the send off.  Since, I am not one to believe in celebrating the cult life style (i.e. Catholism, Christianity, Judiasm) I am actually agnostic.  I believe that there could be something but am not commiting to one true God.  So in place of reading from the Bible I would like there to be a little passage said about how I have been riding this bus called life for so long and it has now come to the end of the line for the time being and then I would like everyone to sing "The Wheels on the Bus".  I would then like another analogy comparing life to riding a boat down a river. followed by a rousing round of "Row, Row, Row, Your Boat".  I think that this includes everyone because everyone should know the words to that shit.  I thought of this because I didn't know any of the stupid prayers that we were supposed to be doing along in church or any of that shit.  Fuck that cultism shit.  Also when I die, put me in a fucking coffee can man.  I don't want an expensive urn or any of that shit.  Put me in a coffee can and have a fire the night of  my funeral and throw my ashes in my fire.  Thanks a lot everyone, I think that I would like to make this blog my actual Last Will and Testament.  I am now listening to "Fall to Pieces" by Velvet Revolver....I fucking love that song man.  I was fucking cocked last night and woke up and started fucking drinking again today it's been a long few fucking hours.  Fuck All Y'all man...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8580126838825460094?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8580126838825460094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8580126838825460094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8580126838825460094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8580126838825460094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/05/all-alone-i-fall-to-pieces.html' title='All Alone I Fall to Pieces'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-313172634414234138</id><published>2008-05-01T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T08:45:22.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I think it's gonna rain when I die...</title><content type='html'>So I've been quite busy with a lot of shit lately.  Being disgruntled at work among other things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The title of this blog is a Alice in Chains reference listen to "Rain When I Die" fucking sweet song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a truck the other day and they had taken off the Ford logo from the front grill of the truck and put on a "Peterbuilt" symbol.  For one that is false fucking advertising and for two; who the hell do they think that they are fooling with that cheesy ass fucking thing.  We all know that it's just another shitty ass Ford and that they wish that they could have something better.  I hate people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over they last month or so I have become the most fucking disgruntled employee.  I hate going to my job at all times pretty much.  I hate listening to what pretty much anyone in the fucking building has to see and I get a fucking headache almost instantly when I walk into the building. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been getting some overtime lately which doesn't help me and helps me a lot all at the same time.  Gives me extra money but when I fucking get there I hate the place even more so I guess they just cancel each other out which makes it a null and void day.  I guess that every day is null and void because I hate it but I need money and that's a positive.  Very few days equal out to a positive day.  So pretty much I'm rambling about how my life has become a series of null days therefore my life is pretty much null and has no impact on this Earth as of right now.  I guess I just have to wander these streets, so to speak, until September when I get the hell out of this place and get to Providence to do some schooling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what else to right.  Oh, check out "New Shoes" by Paolo Nutini...good tune.  I have been listening to a lot of Guns 'N' Roses and Velvet Revolver lately.  Can't wait to see who the new Velvet Revolver singer will be since Scott Weiland left to start up Stone Temple Pilots again...I think my VR and G'N'R obsesssion has stemmed from my reading of Slash's autobiography which is fucking awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-313172634414234138?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/313172634414234138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=313172634414234138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/313172634414234138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/313172634414234138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-think-its-gonna-rain-when-i-die.html' title='I think it&apos;s gonna rain when I die...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-3740534020038114688</id><published>2008-03-25T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:10:28.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is the day that I draw the fine line between friends and those who pretend to be...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;So today I had to go out and sweep out all of our sheds and the surrounding area.  Fun fun fun.  Wow every time I try to type fun I get to fuc then backspace to do the end I think this says that I type fuck way to often.  Oh well, but anyways I was out in the sheds doing my thing and I swept up an old used condom.   While being totally fucking grossed out I mused who would be so horny and senseless to fuck in a she at the local Home Depot but be so thoughtful as to use a condom?  I really don’t understand the thinking behine this one how can one be so stupid and smart all in one shot? &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I also have a gripe about the place that I work...what a shocker!  So I work in the lot under the department number 96 but 96 is a sub department of 90 which is the front end.  Now whenever I get the chance to I go and help out in other departments because during out indoctrination that we all have to go to we are told that the Home Depot crew is a "family" and we all help each other out blah, blah, blah.  Well, when I go to help other departments I get nothing but shit from my department bosses whom shall remain nameless for the time being.  So I can’t go help other departments yet when the front end needs a back up cashier or they need help with collecting carts or they need help loading a customer out front when I’m out or out to lunch or what-have-you the other department associates are supposed to jump and get right on it.  And it’s all done under the impression from Big Brother that we need excellent customer service because we are the last people that the customer sees on their way out and if they are happy when they leave they will come back.  Yet, riddle me this. If there isn’t enough people in the department and they need to team lift an object or they have an excess of customers and I volunteer my help and am not allowed to assist customers will the customer not then proceed to walk out and shop elsewhere and not even go through the front end.  I do understand that we need to have carts for the customers but I don’t understand why I have to be out there every goddamned second of my shift when I can be used sensibly in other parts of the store.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I do have a solution that will never ever be used by the Home Depot corporation because I am in fact a lowly peon in their kingdom of associates.  I think that they should have an expiditer type of associate position.  An associate who clocks in under whatever department is short on hours for the week or what not and they could then bounce around from department to department wherever there is excess customers or they can cover a lunch when there is no one in the department.  Well, this blog has turned serious hasn’t it.  Well too fucking bad it was something I had been wanting to get off my chest.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Currently listening to: Under Falling Skies check them out they are from Springfield and totally fucking bad ass &lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3Lm15c3BhY2UuY29tL3VuZGVyZmFsbGluZ3NraWVz"&gt;www.myspace.com/underfallingskies&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-3740534020038114688?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/3740534020038114688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=3740534020038114688' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/3740534020038114688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/3740534020038114688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/03/today-is-day-that-i-draw-fine-line.html' title='Today is the day that I draw the fine line between friends and those who pretend to be...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-5304607922838131217</id><published>2008-03-19T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:09:45.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buy the Kellogg’s and the bomb is free...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;So first of I would like to address the subject of Easter with it just around the corner.  I understand taht it’s the celebration of the resurrection of Christ and blah blah blah.  I would really like to know where the giant bunny comes into play with all of this.  Did he roll the rock out of the way so that Jesus could get out and tell him "Hey Jesus dude, we brought you back with an important mission to hide these crazy colored eggs from the children." I don’t think that’s what happened and if it did would somebody show me that chapter in the bible because I think I might read the book if it was a little more sci-fi.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This brings me right around to religion.  I am agnostic person I don’t believe that there is one true entity in the sky that created all that is but I’m not opposed to there being such a thing.  Science can neither prove nor disprove the notion of a God so I will leave up to when I die to find out.  I just don’t want to devote myself to one cult and say that it is the right one I like to leave my options open until I am holding hands with the Grim Reaper himself.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Why don’t people ever use graffitti to write nice things.  It’s always "Lisa G is a dirty skanky whore." or "Mike Silver is a fucking butt fucker" It’s never "Richard is a really cool guy" or "Mary likes to receive flowers"  Why are people such assholes all the time.  And why do straight guys always call their friends "fags" but I never have heard a gay man call their friends "straight" or "hetero".  These are things that fuck with my head at all times.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So Mike Hutchinson one of the ex-lot attendants whom I really grew to hate over the past year now is employed by Best Buy of the Berkshire Mall and yesterday when I went in there it really ruined my shopping experience to see that fuck in there.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I have really enjoyed usuing the term "wench" lately I just fucking love the sound of it.  It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside to use it. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So on the bus from the middle of Pittsfield out the Home Depot about a week ago I met Mario.  Mario is a latino man who seemed to be in his late 30’s.  He was a very open man.  He wanted to talk to me for some reason.  It started out talking about working.  Then we got onto the subject of "his lady", his words not mine.  And his lady is a big girl.  On the outside and with a big heart.  This guy was just talking and talking.  Talking about turning down hot girls when he was out in California and shit.  Talking about how he moved to the Berkshires to raise his little girl because it seems that there is no trouble for the kids to get into which I too feel is true.  His intentions seemed alright.  It was either that or he’s running from the Californian government or some shit.  But he seemed like an alright guy none the less and made my 1/2 hour bus ride seem a lot quicker even if it was weird that this dude would just open up to me for the hell of it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;There was a man who stopped me today in the lightbulb area of the depot.  He was asking for an indoor grow light for plants for his special closet project "if you know what I mean *wink wink*". Direct quote from the man himself.  I know what he was talking about my Dad had a closet project when I was just a wee lad.  He has quit such shenanigans as of late which I am proud of him for.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Well that seems to be a good update for now...Peace whatever&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-5304607922838131217?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/5304607922838131217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=5304607922838131217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5304607922838131217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5304607922838131217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/03/buy-kelloggs-and-bomb-is-free.html' title='Buy the Kellogg’s and the bomb is free...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1850883603458774428</id><published>2008-03-03T20:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:09:04.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Feeling This!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;One thing that I've wanted to bring up was the problem that people have with talking to themselves.  I fucking think these people need to be supervised when in public so that someone can fucking smack them in the mouth when they start talking to themselves.  I witnessed one woman the other day that had a complete conversation with her reflection in the window.  She was doing hand gestures and everything.  She would shake her head when she didn't agree with herself and all this crazy shit.  Then there was a man at the bus stop that was just spouting off random fucking words to himself in the little bus stop hut.  I wouldn't go near him I didn't want to interrupt his obviously important conversation with himself.  The last person that I observed doing this almost daily is a kid at work.  He stands near his register and just constantly talks under his breath to himself.   I don't know what he's talking about but he sure does have a lot in common with himself because he never runs out of shit to say.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Lately I've been listening to hella blink-182.  I just realized how much I fucking missed listening to them back in the day.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Did you know that Ford F-350's now have tampons?  The Home Depot load-n-go does.  When you check the transmission fluid on that bitch out pops out this little fucking white tampon looking thing and transmission fluid is fucking red.  Those Fucks at Ford are sick muthafucking bastards.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So I went to court last Thursday because I was getting sued by this guy, blah blah blah.  Long story short I have to pay him 100 bucks a month for the next 8 months.  It seriously could've been worse.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Did you know that people brake for butterflies.  Fucking idiots.  I hate  them.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;People need to know the fucking limit of their vehicle and stop putting a ton of shit into half ton trucks.  I don't know what's wrong with these people but I don't think that load ratings on pick up trucks are just guidelines that have a leeway of a ton or two either way.  I think that it should be legal to beat idiots like this with a shovel.  It really would make my life much more fun and interesting.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1850883603458774428?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1850883603458774428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1850883603458774428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1850883603458774428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1850883603458774428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/03/im-feeling-this.html' title='I&apos;m Feeling This!'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1254369594636916375</id><published>2008-02-20T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:08:17.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You’re about to take a Mindtrip...So get your ticket stamped</title><content type='html'>So today was a pretty mundane day in the saltmines. Of course all of the rumors flying around about me always excite me a bit because I find it all quite HILARIOUS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tonight there was a little excitement for me, of course it was probably disappointment for another one of our associates but it occuppied my time quite well.  Silver was in an accident as he was leaving work.  As soon as I heard about it and that it was at the back of our lot I naturally went out there for two reasons.  First and foremost to make sure that dumbfucker wasn't injured.  Secondly, because I am a rubbernecker.  I love to watch other peoples misfortune. Sorry Silver.  It definitly made it worthwhile when the other woman cried over a tow truck.  And her vehicle wasn't towed until about 8:30 and the accident was shortly after 7.  Ooohhhh that brought satisfaction to my dark heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, Sharon, my front end supervisor was nice enough to give me a ride home.  The original plan was to get to Adams and then catch a cab back to the good ol' NA.  When we got to her home she ended up going inside and getting her 4 year old and he came along for a ride and she brought me all the way home.  Meeting this child just made my heart melt.  He was so damn cute.  I've always known that I want kids, it's just one of those things that you just know you want.  I can't wait to have kids.  Strike that, I'm excited at the prospect of one day having kids but not right now, I definitly don't want to be a 19 year old father.  But I really wouldn't mind being a father in my mid to late 20's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this wasn't that funny but it definitly was a journey into my mind...Mindtrip...That's a good tune look it up it's by Nonpoint.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1254369594636916375?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1254369594636916375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1254369594636916375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1254369594636916375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1254369594636916375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/02/youre-about-to-take-mindtripso-get-your.html' title='You’re about to take a Mindtrip...So get your ticket stamped'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-6641787022159657713</id><published>2008-02-15T20:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:06:37.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tightly hold your hand take a deep breath give them the finger...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;So my little sister who is 11 years old for some unknown reason needed a MySpace or she would fucking die.  She talked her mother into it even though the site clearly states that you have to be 14 to have an account and apparantly the scare tactics that a sexual predator is sitting outside the house waiting to put you in his van doesn't work either.  I still don't know why somebody in sixth grade with all of 20 friends needs a MySpace to keep tabs on their friends when you see them in school every single day.  She's usually a wench anyways...I don't know what that has to do with anything but oh fucking well.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So anybody out there listen to Our Lady Peace with such fantastical songs as "Superman's Dead" "One Man Army" and "Somewhere Out There" among others.  If not you should and if you don't after reading this a dead 12 year old who was brutally murdered by her parents will come and kill you at precisly 1:15 this morning.  So you better get listening goddamnit.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I think that I've exhausted my hate for the retarded bunch of fucks that I serve at work also known as the general public.  I really don't have anything else to say about these people.  Oh yeah, except when you come to buy something such as a toilet, shower, or about 15 fucking windows or doors.  BRING A FUCKING FRIEND YOU GODDAMNED IDIOTS.  I can not stress this enough.  You know that you are going out to buy a large item(s) yet you still show up alone walk to the back of the store without a cart and then you're mad when you have to go back to the front of the store for a cart.  It's not like you were just casually perusing our store and say to yourself, "Self, I think that I shall buy a new toilet today." This is a purchase that you need to think about.  And men SHOULDN'T send in their PREGNANT wives to pick shit up such as doors and windows.  Go with them you fucking moron.  What the fuck are you doing that's so fucking important that you have to send your pregnant wife whom can't even get in and out of the fucking car.  Really people are idiotic and fucked in the fucking head.  Fucking fuckers.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Alright now I think I've exhausted  my hate for the customers for tonight.  It's been a little while since I've done this shiznat...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Well since the little thing below this that says what I'm listening to isn't working I'm listening to Our Lady Peace as you should be too mother fuckers...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-6641787022159657713?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/6641787022159657713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=6641787022159657713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6641787022159657713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6641787022159657713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/02/tightly-hold-your-hand-take-deep-breath.html' title='Tightly hold your hand take a deep breath give them the finger...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-6126800541079136882</id><published>2008-01-30T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:05:49.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I sleep so I can’t feel...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;Random blog about stuff that I'm kinda excited for in '08...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;-Moving to Garden at work is a big muthafuckin' plus I'm sick of the fucking parking lot&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;-Shitload of new tunes from some of my favorite bands&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;-Sevendust&lt;br /&gt;-Taproot&lt;br /&gt;-Disturbed&lt;br /&gt;-Slipknot&lt;br /&gt;-10 Years&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;-Going away to fucking college I'm so fucking pumped that I'm going to Johnson and Wales in Providence, RI you don't even know each day it gets closer and closer I think I'm down to 219 days left until I leave.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I think that's actually it for now...I've stopped doing funny blogs because I was trying to hard to do it and it was a strained funny and no longer natural I'm sure that when I get to a new department in a few weeks new shit will arise I think that the parking lot has just left me at a stalemate for new material.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-6126800541079136882?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/6126800541079136882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=6126800541079136882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6126800541079136882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6126800541079136882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-sleep-so-i-cant-feel.html' title='I sleep so I can’t feel...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-5921507980188893907</id><published>2008-01-22T20:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:04:55.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s one hell of a marketing ploy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Heath Ledger was found dead in his NYC apartment today from either an accidental overdose or they haven't ruled out suicide. It's a terrible thing when a young person is taken far too soon but the cast and crew of "Dark Knight" have got to be seeing dollar signs because you know that many people will want to see the movie as it is his last role. I will see it. Well, So Long old friend who wasn't my friend we will grieve your death for a day or two and then move on to the next "big thing".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-5921507980188893907?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/5921507980188893907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=5921507980188893907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5921507980188893907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5921507980188893907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-one-hell-of-marketing-ploy.html' title='It’s one hell of a marketing ploy...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8252436950050356069</id><published>2008-01-12T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:03:58.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Started Looking Out for myself Today...but Then I Stopped Because I Don't Care...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hey look! You dropped your pocket...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So new news...I am getting SUED!! Everyone loves that man.  Who's day isn't made when they get served papers.  This is all because of my accident back on December 8th.  But it's only for a little bit, but I think that this is just the start of a shitstorm.  I just hope that the storm subsides by the time I have to go to school in September.  So I won't be getting my truck back for a while now.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So today at work I had an asshole come up to me while I was out busting my ass pushing carts and look at me and just cock his head and say "Somebody has to do it." and got in his car and left.  Needless to say he did not push his cart back up, he left it like the rest of the assholes.  I've been hating this position more and more as of late.  If I could just get into another department at the store I would be a lot happier.  I don't mind the store just my fucking department.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;If you don't already listen to them you should totally listen to Armor For Sleep.  I friggin' love their tunes lately.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I hate customers at work that ask me if I like my job.  They always seem to ask me when I'm throwing fucking pellets into the trunk of their Volvo or a toilet into the back of their fucking Lexus.  I've been inclined to just look at them and just fucking shake my head.  Usually I just act like I didn't hear the question the lousy fucks.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;"Counting Blue Cars" by Dishwalla is a fucking sweet song...did you know that? You should have said yes and if you don't know the song peep that shit...now fuckers!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;What kind of horrible fucking joke would it be if my fucking life was just a TV show that was always in production and I was the only out of the loop.  If you all are getting paid millions because I'm a fucking whatever I am I would be overly fucking pissed off.  I don't even know what I am to everyone else.  I just know that it works for me most of the time.  And as to the original question of what kind of horrible fucking joke would it be?  Haha can we stop this ride now it's starting to hail and rollercoasters are no fucking fun in the hail.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I think that's all for right now except ummm thanks to you all who've been helping me out lately it means the fucking world right now....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8252436950050356069?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8252436950050356069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8252436950050356069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8252436950050356069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8252436950050356069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-started-looking-out-for-myself.html' title='I Started Looking Out for myself Today...but Then I Stopped Because I Don&apos;t Care...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-948063066783296477</id><published>2007-12-21T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:02:35.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pursuit Begins When This portrayal Of Life Ends</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.viewCategory&amp;amp;FriendID=22291764&amp;amp;BlogCategoryID=12"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                              &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;So I've been riding public transportation lately and trying to dress to impress while on the bus in a ratty ass flannel jacket.  Just trying to fit in with all the other fucking dejected people of the fucking 413.  And I've also been bumming rides off of people home which I actually don't really like to do because I'm kind of a proud person.  I also don't like to inconvienience people.  But, I do have people who have helped me out a lot and I am quite greatful to George, Haley, Craig, and all the other people that have helped me out in this time of shittiness that has happened because of recent events.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So nothing really good happening at work, it's just become monotonous bullshit that's why I haven't been doing these all that often at all anymore.  Just counting down the days, literally, to the day that I leave to go to school and finally move on from this bullshit part of my life.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;One thing that the Depot has taught me in life is that I don't want to be doing this for all of my life.  If I hadn't taken the year off from schooling to work full time I know that I would fuck off in school, get shit faced, and put about 0 fucking percent into classes.  Now that I've taken this time off and seen what it's fucking like to try and live on the fucking shit they give you and the fucking hollow shell of a person that corporations make people I don't want that.  I now have seen this shit and it will makes me put that much more into my cooking when I am in school so that I can go out there and do what I want to do and fucking do something I love with my life, not something that someone else wants me to do...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-948063066783296477?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/948063066783296477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=948063066783296477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/948063066783296477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/948063066783296477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/12/pursuit-begins-when-this-portrayal-of.html' title='The Pursuit Begins When This portrayal Of Life Ends'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-502742694125959646</id><published>2007-12-11T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:01:34.318-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So I've been to about 26 concerts now in my 18 years and with the festivals and shit I've seen a little over 100 bands. Not exactly seen but been in attendance on their day of performance...Ok well I'm bored so I'm gonna decide on my top 10 concerts that I've been to, I'm probably going to be biased towards my ones in the last two years because those are the ones I can remember better but whatever this is for me if you don't like it fuck off...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1.  Chevelle (May 23, 2007) (Who went: Chow and Amberly)- Black Light Burns, 2Cents - I really fuckin' enjoyed this show the best because of my Chevelle love, the crowd was probably one of the best that I've been a part of, if you didn't want to fight you didn't have to really.  And then of course there was "Point 1"  &lt;img src="http://x.myspace.com/images/blog/smileys/distressed.gif" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://x.myspace.com/images/blog/smileys/distressed.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2.  Marilyn Manson (August 4, 2007) (Who Went: Chowski, Keith) - Slayer, Bleeding Through - We got there fuckin' early and we just hung out all day and had a good time, people in line were enjoyable, they sometimes are not, we were right up front on the barrier for the whole set.  Manson just puts on a killer fuckin' stage show, better than what most do nowadays. Happy Birthday Chowski, too.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3.  Nine Inch Nails - February 27, 2006 (Who Went: Chowski) - Saul Williams - Probably my favorite band, love all of their discography so the show was guaranteed to be fuckin' sweet.  Played an amazing set and the crowd wasn't as rowdy as expected.  Even though I had a broken hand it wasn't bad at all...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4.  Third Eye Blind - October 28, 2006 (Who Went: Chowski) - The Upwelling - So the opening band on Jesus Christ on the drums.  No lie looked just like him.  We were first in line for this show.  We were front and center for the show.  Second ones to show up were some cute girls so they were definitly good company.  Fucking sweet set, play "Crystal Baller" my favorite song, and of course all of the hits.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5.  Locobazooka '02 - September 22, 2002 (Who Went: Chowski) - Headlined by Disturbed - Nonpoint, Flaw, Black Label Society, Ra - This is up here because it was my first "real" festival concert.  I was 13 years old and Chowski invited my to come along to this show.  We worked our way up to the front for 3rd Strike which was badass since I was definitly groovin' to their tunes at the time.  I also got to witness thousands of people sing along to all of Disturbed's tunes which kind of moved me inside to be really cheesy right now.  I fuckin' fell in love with concert going with this show.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6.  Damageplan - April 2, 2004 - Drowning Pool, Hatebreed, Unearth (Who Went: Dad) - My dad and I went to this show.  He was diggin' Damageplan because he like Pantera and I was just plain diggin' Damageplan and I loved Drowning Pool.  It was amazing to see Dimebad Darell fucking riffing on that stage before he left us all (R.I.P.)&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;7.  Lenny Kravitz - September 11, 1999 (Who Went: My Dad) - Smash Mouth, Buckcherry - Now we actually went to this show for Smash Mouth.  They were my favorite all time band at the time and I still dig there tunes.  They were touring for the Astro Lounge album with that huge song "All Star" but I loved them since there first album when I was in 3rd grade, I had it on cassette.  I was in 5th grade when we went to see them and I didn't know Buckcherry at the time but I do know them now and wished that I did back then but I really didn't understand his lyrics that glorify sex and drug use back then as I do now.  Ironically we met up with Tanya and her son Chris there we only said hi to them and moved on we knew them from Cub Scouts at the time and my dad and her ended up dating after my parents split up.  Irony. I love it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;8.  Edgefest '07 - September 22, 2007 (Who Went: Chowski, Tiffany) - Headlined by Sebastian Bach - Evans Blue, Drowning Pool, Finger 11, Seven Mary Three, Framing Hanley, Cinder Road, and Nonpoint, they all made the fuckin' show for me.  Really do I need to say more?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;9. Disturbed - November 19, 2006 (Who Went: Amberly) - Stone Sour, Flyleaf, Nonpoint.  Wow that puts Nonpoint into three of my favorite shows in my top ten.  I loved Stone Sour and Disturbed's set.  Disturbed did a pretty sweet medly in the middle of their set that touched on a lot of great songs, it was neat to hear that.  Stone Sour blew me away earlier in the year at Family Values Tour and I was pumped to see them up close.  We got there pretty early and the people that showed up behind us were a group of UMASS guys that all came from the NA so that was pretty cool it made the day go by better.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;10. TooL - July 12, 2007 (Who Went: Chowski) - Big Business - This is in here not because of the bands stage presence that really got my attention but I did love the set list that they played. There was also a drumming duel that happened in the middle of the 18 fuckin' minute rendition of "Lateralus" that I was pretty impressed by.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So creating this list definitly took some time and thought. I didn't think that it would be that amusing for me to recall all this shit but I definitly did like doing this.  My first concert was actually when I was 3 I went to Def Leppard on a leash at the Knickerbocker Arena on October 28, 1992.  I'm lookin' forward to hella more shows...&lt;/p&gt;                                                                               &lt;table class="blogContentInfo" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;                 &lt;td&gt;  &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-502742694125959646?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/502742694125959646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=502742694125959646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/502742694125959646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/502742694125959646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/12/top-10.html' title='Top 10'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-4000829774798162339</id><published>2007-12-11T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:00:33.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m a Loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;Ok so last Friday I found outside of work by the trash on the ground was a box to a woman's vibrator.  I of course, as any good human being would do picked it up off the ground and proceded to show it to anyone I could find ask them if they dropped it.  Hilarity ensued within our store. I'm actually quite curious as to why the person who purchased this item needed to remove it from the packaging as they entered the Home Depot.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I got two turn tables and a microphone.  That Beck is a awesome muthafucka! Ever listen to that shit? You should.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Yesterday I saw an older couple, probably about 50's, driving away in there nice Pontiac Vibe.  It was black.  They were each reaching out of the window and holding a half of a sheet of sheetrock onto the roof rock.  They drove by me and I really couldn't do anything at that point to help them tie it down so I let the fuckers go.  I'm pretty curious as to how these people made it to their age alive...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Today there was a Ford F-250 that drove into our lot.  I was looking at the people within the cab when they drove by me and the man driving hit the snowbank with the passenger's side front tire.  Right as the tire hit the bank and rolled over it the woman in the passenger seat got a look as if she just got an unexpected finger in the ass.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Fuck it....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-4000829774798162339?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/4000829774798162339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=4000829774798162339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4000829774798162339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4000829774798162339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-loser-baby-so-why-dont-you-kill-me.html' title='I’m a Loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-9179277510185904720</id><published>2007-12-08T19:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T19:59:51.921-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK</title><content type='html'>So some of you might now how devastating today could've been when I say that I was in an accident on my way to my class in Springfield.  I was turning into a sidestreet when a man drove his van into the back half of my truck and spun me around into another car that was stopped at a stop sign.  I managed to hang around at the scene for 2 hours while my truck was towed and NOT get arrested.  I am the luckiest man in the world today for having my life and not spending my weekend off in the Springfield Police Department.  But I ended up even getting a ride with the officers to a local Burger King to wait for my dad to come and pick me up.  BK ended up in a ghetto and I was the only white man there.  And I had just exited a cop car unscathed they all were either afraid of me or wanted to shiv my I'm not really sure.  So in the end I left unharmed with my truck on a rollback tow truck because the back axle is fucking crooked.  So the lesson from today is to not drive without a license but if you do hope to fucking God that they don't run your numbers on the little computer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note I get to watch the Floyd Mayweather VS. Ricky Hatton on PPV so it all balances out...almost...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-9179277510185904720?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/9179277510185904720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=9179277510185904720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/9179277510185904720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/9179277510185904720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/12/fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.html' title='FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-4226357696177200519</id><published>2007-11-28T19:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T19:58:40.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Work and No Play Makes Me a Dull Boy</title><content type='html'>So yesterday while walking around work I had a woman drive up to me while out on the lumber pad. She gets out and walks over to me and says Excuse Me, and asks me if we have a large scale in our store. I told her that I didn't think we sold any. She then stops me mid-sentence and says "I don't want to buy one, I want to use one, do you have one to weigh your shipments." I tell her that that is a negatory. She then procedes with her story of how she really needs one badly to weigh a package she needs to mail as if I'm gonna say, "Well, I'm sorry if that's the case then let me pull a magic scale from my fucking asshole." I told her no again and she became angry with me and asked if Wal-Mart had one and I told her that I worked at Home Depot not Wal-Mart so I wouldn't know. She then got back in her mini-van and drove wrecklessly through the parking lot and like swooped past me in the lumber pad and around the back of the building the wrong way. I was praying that I truck would be there and a head on collision would happen to that fucking ignorant fucking whore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-4226357696177200519?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/4226357696177200519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=4226357696177200519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4226357696177200519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/4226357696177200519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/11/all-work-and-no-play-makes-me-dull-boy.html' title='All Work and No Play Makes Me a Dull Boy'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-669136615601456527</id><published>2007-11-26T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T19:57:24.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life Reads Like the Classifieds...</title><content type='html'>If you've seen Willy Wonka, reading this blog is like the scene when Charlie sees the lights on the building turn back on after being dormant for so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So may I take this moment to say "No" to any fucking request that you have of me at work because I am sick of every fucking person that I turn to asking a "favor" of me. I hate the goddamned fucking cashiers thinking that they are my fucking bosses because they can fucking call for my assistance to help customers. Some of them call to have me remove the fucking trash, if I wanted to deal with fucking trash I would be the fucking trash collector not the fucking lot attendant...not that I choose that either. Tell me to fucking collect the fucking carts all the fucking time, YOU ARE NOT MY FUCKING BOSS NOR MY SUPERIOR SO SUCK MY FUCKING BALLS. I kinda feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I brake for birds" a new bumper sticker I saw. I found this to be fucking stupid because I have never seen a breed of bird in Massachusetts that doesn't fly out of the way when you drive at the fucking thing. Unless of course it's a dead bird then who the fuck would brake for that besides animal patrol...maybe this person was an officer of animal patrol...hmmmmm....I don't fucking know...What the fuck ever&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-669136615601456527?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/669136615601456527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=669136615601456527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/669136615601456527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/669136615601456527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-life-reads-like-classifieds.html' title='My Life Reads Like the Classifieds...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8034490206064977310</id><published>2007-11-04T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T19:56:29.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Attention, Attention, May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room...SUICIDE?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;So me and Chowski are firm believers that Suicide is a choice.  We were told otherwise yesterday afternoon.  They believe that it is NOT a choice.  I do not see how it isn't a choice.  Can you tell me? Do you agree or disagree?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Well anyways we were told that while waiting in line for The Academy Is... concert.  This concert has turned me into a fan of Cobra Starship, Armor For Sleep, and The Rocket Summer.  It was a good time in line with the people next to us until Chow went and made the girl cry with talks of suicide but she was obviously a  lunatic if she thinks that there is no choice when it comes to suicide.  Fucking weirdo.  It was incredibly cold and there was a hurricane off of Hampton Beach and we were sitting at the beach.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I would like to know what business that gothic people have at The Home Depot.  They do not do home improvment.  They grieve their life because mommy and daddy pay for all of their ridiculously expensive retarded looking makeup and clothing. Fuck them fucking fucks.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I guess that's it for now.  And contrary to the title of the blog I am not actually thinking of comitting suicide.  Probably got your attention though...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8034490206064977310?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8034490206064977310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8034490206064977310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8034490206064977310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8034490206064977310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/11/attention-attention-may-i-have-all-your.html' title='Attention, Attention, May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room...SUICIDE?'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-5781248943435692130</id><published>2007-10-28T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T19:55:14.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These are some of the things that I think about at work...10/22</title><content type='html'>So I actually wrote these on my lunch on 10/19 but kept forgetting my pad in my truck so without further interruption, some shit I wrote...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Code M&lt;br /&gt;Laceration on my hand&lt;br /&gt;Watched as the pool of blood collected in my palm&lt;br /&gt;Watched it scab over&lt;br /&gt;Washed it all away&lt;br /&gt;Left an open wound&lt;br /&gt;This wound is a portal&lt;br /&gt;Portal into me&lt;br /&gt;Within this wound you can see my thoughts,&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts&lt;br /&gt;My dreams&lt;br /&gt;My wishes&lt;br /&gt;My imagination&lt;br /&gt;But I won't let you in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They see what I do&lt;br /&gt;They watch my every move&lt;br /&gt;They analyze me through my motion&lt;br /&gt;Not my results&lt;br /&gt;How I do it should never matter&lt;br /&gt;Watch the results&lt;br /&gt;Results are all that matter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Always&lt;br /&gt;While pushing the carts&lt;br /&gt;My skin brushes off&lt;br /&gt;Onto these carts handles&lt;br /&gt;Just specks of myself&lt;br /&gt;Molecules of me&lt;br /&gt;Speckles of my life&lt;br /&gt;And&lt;br /&gt;I wonder&lt;br /&gt;How long will I stay there?&lt;br /&gt;Will I have contact with another person?&lt;br /&gt;Or will I just be brushed off&lt;br /&gt;Like always&lt;br /&gt;Always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the things I think about at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-5781248943435692130?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/5781248943435692130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=5781248943435692130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5781248943435692130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5781248943435692130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/10/these-are-some-of-things-that-i-think.html' title='These are some of the things that I think about at work...10/22'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1359150758122615852</id><published>2007-10-18T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T19:13:31.165-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abortion'/><title type='text'>So this sparked my interest...</title><content type='html'>So I'm probably gonna have people that don't agree with my position on this "delicate" subject that I am about to bring up.  If you have an opinion go ahead and feel free to voice it.  I won't hold it against you as long as  you don't hold my opinion against me and it gets dropped here in this blog and doesn't affect our friendship or whatever we have between each other...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I saw a bulletin post for Anti-Abortionists today. And it really upset me that people would feel the need to take away someone's choice to terminate.  I personally am Pro-Abortion.  I believe that as long as they terminate soon enough it is her own choice to rid herself of the child.  I think that it isn't technically a living and breathing thing.  It can't breath for itself, it can't eat for itself, it can't exactly care fo itself.  It's brain and lungs are still in development when you are supposed to get an abortion so it of course isn't a full fledged human being and cannot voice it's objections.  I, personally, wouldn't want the mother of my child to terminate but if she wanted to because she felt that she wasn't ready to go through with a pregnancy and birthing process then I would let her because it IS her choice and shouldn't catch any flak from anybody for stepping up and saying I am not responsible enough to handle a pregnancy/raising a child.  People of course then say don't get pregnant but accidents do happen when on birth control or using a condom.  I've even heard of it happening when the men "get fixed" so to speak or women get their tubes tied.  It isn't always because you were irresponsible in the first place but you have to understand that drunken nights do happen and people just make bad judgments but that doesn't mean that they should be forced to be burdened with a child at a moment in their life that they don't want one.  I think that's all I have on this for the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I saw a shooting star last night and it was neat....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1359150758122615852?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1359150758122615852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1359150758122615852' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1359150758122615852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1359150758122615852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/10/so-this-sparked-my-interest.html' title='So this sparked my interest...'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8919238549325266490</id><published>2007-10-10T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T21:39:18.788-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 10/10</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I actually had today off but I feel like finally updating this shiznit mo'fucka...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on Sunday had a pretty fucked up thing happen. Guy, in a Ford Explorer was just chillin' behind is truck with the door kind of closed. And when I walked by I looked in to see what was goin' on in there and I saw to my astonishment that he had his daughter of about 3 or 4 just chillin' in the back on a toilet for kids takin' a piss. Now I seem to find this fucked up for a couple of reasons...Why make your child piss in a parking lot when there is a perfectly good bathroom in most stores. I seem to also find this to be bad parenting because you have your kid half naked in a busy parking lot. Another thing is that, that toilet can't be flushed. So do you dump the toilet in the parking lot or do you ride with piss in the back of your truck for the rest of the day. Choices that I will hopefully never had to make in my life because I hope to be a better parent than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's lightning and thundering out.  I am not a fan of those things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that I neither like to listen to or accept constructive criticism. I would rather that you yell at me it goes quicker and it's not masked in fucking fake nice voices that make me wanna punch you in the throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all I really got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think about at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8919238549325266490?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8919238549325266490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8919238549325266490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8919238549325266490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8919238549325266490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/10/things-i-thought-about-on-1010.html' title='Things I thought about on 10/10'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-5183137787498075510</id><published>2007-10-05T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T09:45:37.308-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Starbucks'/><title type='text'>Starbucks</title><content type='html'>There is a Starbucks across the plaza from the Home Depot that I work at.  I would just like to say that this has got to be the most ridiculous fucking store ever.  I know that this is kind a horse that's been beat by many people before, but I figure that I shall now take my whacks at it as well.  First off their sizes are just pretty fuckin' ballsy.  Why make your own sizes.  What's wrong with a Small, Medium, and Large.  Who the fuck is at these board meetings that says, "Hey guys, can we just make up our own sizes, we'll sound sophisticated!"  and they all agree.  I just think it makes you seem like pompous fucking asshole pricks.  Their pricing is out of control too. I don't know their actual prices because I refuse to shop at these fucking rididculous stores.  That's where people will say, "Just don't shop there, and stop bitching."  But, I would like to know why I would have a blog without being able to bitch about whatever I damn well feel like bitching about.  Ok, I think that all Starbucks should be fucking burnt to the ground and the rich fucking yuppies who "...can't live without my Starbucks, like oh my GAWD!" should go with it, the world would be a fucking healthier and wealthier place without these fucks clutterings us up with all their stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 posts in one day, I'm feeling creative...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-5183137787498075510?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/5183137787498075510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=5183137787498075510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5183137787498075510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5183137787498075510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/10/starbucks.html' title='Starbucks'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-7065211241125949998</id><published>2007-10-04T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T09:13:34.827-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='America'/><title type='text'>Osama is not the problem</title><content type='html'>I think that we, as American people, should be looking into the Chinese import problem a little more  carefully.  It's started out as children's toys with lead accidentally put into them.  And if you look, you will notice that a lot of the food that comes from there isn't acctually inspected.  It's just thrown into our markets for people such as yourself to buy and eat.  Now people will try to debunk that they are not trying to launch a onslaught of terror onto the American people because they would just nuke us.  But, seeing as they are so smart over there, they see that it would be stupid for them to just nuke us because that would just bring on war.  We are naive enough in this country and blinded by the Iraq War in our government that we won't even think twice about bad sushi and lead filled toys.  We will write it all off to errors with machinery or what not.  But neigh I say because they are proven to be smarter people then us in all aspects of science and mathmatics so why would they have such a large fluke as all of this.  What's next to come? All cars rigged with bombs to explode after a certain milage is hit? They could hit us in almost any vantage point they would like because they control almost all of our imports.  They could potentially kill the adults, women and men, the children with the toys, our animals with chew toys and the likes.  And we would just keep putting out recalls because we have a government that won't publicly take a stance on any matter at all one way or another.  I'm not just talking about our current Village Idiot, GWB, but all of our upcoming candidates are flip-floppers on almost all discussions.  Nobody can take a stance because they are afraid that they will hurt someones feelings, be politically incorrect, or step on some toes.  Whomever lies to us all the best and tells us what we want to hear the most consistently will most likely be voted into office and they can then proceed to do as they like because we have absolutly no power to stop them at all.  I really want to move up to Canada.  It's no good here any longer.  The American Dream is lost in my opinion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-7065211241125949998?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/7065211241125949998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=7065211241125949998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7065211241125949998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7065211241125949998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/10/osama-is-not-problem.html' title='Osama is not the problem'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1170394351467901772</id><published>2007-10-03T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T23:39:56.903-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Some of the things that I thought about on 10/03/07</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So yesterday was Lot Attendant Anti-Appreciation Day and I got 2 projects at once as well as a MOD saying they were going to write me up for not doing my actually job instead of the projects issued by other managers.  So what is a lot boy to do but get fucking bitched at from all angles.  So I buttoned up and did all the fucking shit that had to be done with a lot of help from people that I think I can actually call friends at work.  But, there were the fun moments Silver and I found a hawk that was exciting until it turned out to be a Grouse.  But hey it was fun while it lasted.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I actually work with a guy by the name of Tony Kneecaps I figured I throw that out there because I find it fucking funny.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I woulld just like to say that people that park in the fire lane and put on their hazard lights are fucking assholes as well as fucking morons.  Do they actually think that people are so naive that they will just let them pass thinking that their car broke down in such a convient parking type area.  I think that the fire trucks would fucking mind when they come barelling in because the building is on fire.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I just used the word naive which I would like to point out to anyone who has never noticed before that Evian is naivE backwards, drink fucking tapwater like the rest of us normal people don't pay 3 dollars for a 20 ounce bottle because it comes from ancient fucking chinese prophet's ball sweat or whatever.  Fucking douchebag rich fucks.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I would also like to point out that we have these bumper stickers that people put on their cars that is just a crossed out "W" now I'm about as Anti-Bush as the next Mother Fuckin' American but I think that we should grow some fuckin' testes and make real stickers with like a fuckin' picture of his face or all of his fucking initials.  Why not GWB in there crossed out.  Now I will come to the meat of why I think this.  Now, pretend that you are a German immigrant coming over to America and you are just learning the language and simple shit so you have as much American history in you as about an American 1st grader.  Now you are trying to learn all this and you see a W crossed out.  My first thought would be that we no longer like the letter W in our country and trying to get rid of it.  This would confuse me to no extent if I were this person.  Can nobody else see my point on this.  Maybe I'm just fucking insane.  Oh well, this is why I should no longer be allowed out in the fucking parking lot.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I would also like to state I think that I would like my name to be Claude, but not until I am about 60 years old because Claude is a kickass old dude name and Zac isn't.  Can't wait until then. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;We have all the Ryobi "Green" tools set up in the store to play with and I fucking love that.  Playing with toys is so much fun.  That fuckin' drill is powerful as all hell...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I actually think that I had more to say but it got lost in the thought process for all the shit I actually did just type...&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So this all stems from things that I think about while at work...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1170394351467901772?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1170394351467901772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1170394351467901772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1170394351467901772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1170394351467901772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/10/some-of-things-that-i-thought-about-on.html' title='Some of the things that I thought about on 10/03/07'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-6039679280344411053</id><published>2007-09-30T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:43:27.913-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/30</title><content type='html'>So, uh, today I kinda had to clean out a wheelie cart thing with a dead bird in it. Well, a dead bird wouldn't of bothered me but, it was swimming in about an inch of water from the recent rain and this bird has to have been sitting in this cart since at least early July-ish I am going to say. Based on how what was swimming the fucking water is a skull, feathers, and his two legs. Why did nobody notice this dead bird before a customer did yesterday and asked it be removed so they could purchase it. I don't know but I do know that I got stuck fucking cleaning it out because garden people are apparantly immune to having to clean their own department today. Silver and I did hold a quick funeral for the L'il Fucker as I have decided to name him. I was acting pastor since we didn't have one handy and said some words for the L'il Fucker..can't send him off without wings to fly on. So that was all of my excitment for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think of while at work....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah and I did get a haircut tonight which was my first in far too long since my grays have been quite prominant....just a little personal sidenote...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-6039679280344411053?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/6039679280344411053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=6039679280344411053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6039679280344411053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6039679280344411053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-930.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/30'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1814141035855309684</id><published>2007-09-20T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:20:50.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/20</title><content type='html'>So last night I ended up workin' an overnight on top of my closing shift. I realized that I fuckin' love overnights. I wish that I could do them all the time. Of course I would no longer have a reason to do this blog because there are NO FUCKING CUSTOMERS. It's the best thing ever just doing your assigned work getting your breaks and going home...no ridiculous requests, questions, or bullshit at all...but it was a really long day and I couldn't sleep when I got home so I'm about ready for some sleepy time now though...I will be back tomorrow at 1:30 for those damned customers...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1814141035855309684?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1814141035855309684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1814141035855309684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1814141035855309684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1814141035855309684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-920.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/20'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-2755548766411619260</id><published>2007-09-18T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:42:48.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/18 [Part 2]</title><content type='html'>More MOTHER FUCKERS...I'm getting pretty sick of fucking people in the store that believe that the lot attendant actually works for their department when I actually have my own fucking department to fucking take care of. This has become a problem over in lumber with them thinking that I am their personal fucking spotter...I am more than a MOTHER FUCKING FLAG STAND YOU FUCKS....I mean what the hell I'm getting called to load fragile old bags and I have to stand here and hold flags because your job seems to be more important than mine...I think fucking not...Number 1 is most important to me and last I checked I was Fucking 1...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 is Millwork and you all know that story and then some I won't even start on THOSE FUCKSTICK FUCKKNOB MOTHERFUCKS...Only two of 'em though...The other 2 are actually pretty good...3 is the motherfuck at the service desk and I'm only talking about one of them.. She has toned down her use of me lately. I do believe that I have made it clear that the back of my shirt does not read Welcome because I AM NOT A FUCKING DOOR MAT. Fuck that and fuck them...All of 'em...But of course this is only a blog...I will probably still take most of it because I like having a steady source of income....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-2755548766411619260?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/2755548766411619260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=2755548766411619260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2755548766411619260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2755548766411619260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-918-part-2.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/18 [Part 2]'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-2778950208266234771</id><published>2007-09-18T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:19:12.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/18</title><content type='html'>I love sexual innuendo so damn much I don't think that I could live without it. I was outside today fucking around when on the radio came across the voice of an annoying bitch. She said verbatim, "Zac, Carol is wondering where her rug is." Now I don't know what you would thing of in a situation such as this but my mind of course was on a one way track to pervert town and had to suppress the urge to make some kind of wise fucking remark to it. I did although die laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing really fantastic or fucking stupid to report for today I just haven't blogged in two days and felt the want to do it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am trying to make a complete list of what my job actually is here's what I have so far:&lt;br /&gt;1. Cart Pusher&lt;br /&gt;2. Maintenance/Janitor (Change light bulbs, mop, sweep, clean out vomit fucking trash cans, etc.)&lt;br /&gt;3. Professional Painter&lt;br /&gt;4. Professional Spotter&lt;br /&gt;5. Breakroom Attendant (My favorite :-)&lt;br /&gt;6. Scapegoat&lt;br /&gt;7. Clown (My personal quest...love to make people laugh only true thing that makes me happy :-D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm that's all I have so far...this was less funny more useless but what the hell I've danced enough for the last three weeks gotta have a serious post every now and then...I promise this won't be a habit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-2778950208266234771?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/2778950208266234771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=2778950208266234771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2778950208266234771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2778950208266234771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-918.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/18'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-253102117493338284</id><published>2007-09-16T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:41:42.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/16</title><content type='html'>Does it make me a bad person if I don't particularly care how someone is doing at any given time in the day? I am addressing the random people that I do not know that pass me at any given point in the day and go "How's it goin'?" or "How are you?" Now I think that these people are either overly senstive to everyones feelings, drones of society who have this drilled into their heads as a proper greeting in place of a friendly "Hello"...I can do hello but then when they say "How you doin'?" in passing sometimes I don't have the time to stop and shoot the shit as to how my day is going. I don't want to lie to them either and say "OK" if I'm clearly not having a good day. And now the proper response to the question they are asking is usually "Good/Bad/Whatever, and how are you doing?" Now this exchange can really take up a good 2 minutes of my valuable time sometimes. This is just unacceptable. I believe that complete strangers should have to stick to the simple Hello's and let it be...I don't want to get to personal with these people at all....And then you have the people that ask you how you are and keep walking...what fucking assholes...why ask the question if you don't WANT a fucking answer...not that I give one out usually anyways. I don't mind if someone I know asks me how I'm doing...if I know them enough I may actually be even curious as to how they are doing...alright that's enough of that shit and I think that I have used far too many elipseses....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so I'm thinking this might actually be a had to be there moment but I was told to put it in here so I will...maybe somebody will find it funny. We were having our store meeting at work tonight and we were getting our success sharing checks which is a big joke to begin with. So I was bored to begin with and was yelling things out, clapping at innappropriate times, what have you that you would do at assembly's way back in high school. I was an expert at that. So when people were going up to get there checks they were hugging their superior. Which I found to be fucking odd. Taht would make me personally uncomfortable. So on my way up to grab my huge fuckin' bonus I spotted Mr. Silver standing on the side there and I grabbed a hold of him to hug him as a joke instead of my direct superior because it's just funnier. Well I latched onto him like he was my fucking savior in life and he turned as red as a fucking apple. A red apple like a McIntosh not a Granny Smith those are green. But anyways afterwards people pointed out that he couldn't stop blushing after that and he had a bulge in his pants which makes me question things, you know what I mean? He's saying it's just the way the pants are...Hmmm we'll never know for sure but I hope it was just the way his pants are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I guess that's it for this evening...These are some of the things that I think of while at work....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-253102117493338284?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/253102117493338284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=253102117493338284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/253102117493338284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/253102117493338284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-916.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/16'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1063099035318457472</id><published>2007-09-14T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:40:39.265-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/14</title><content type='html'>So I might have previously brought this up but can anybody let me know why The Home Depot has a janitor that does nothing. He has his goddamned "zamboni" machine that cleans the floor and then he loves. He even does that shittily and just fucking leaves piles of shit all over the place. He doesn't sweep he doesn't clean the windows. He doesn't EVEN CLEAN THE FUCKING BATHROOMS. He is fucking useless and we pay him for some unbeknownst (it's a word Google that shit motherfucker) to me. Yeah so that brings me to the biggest thing for me I think that he should hose out our trash barrels. I already have accepted that I have to change the trash but there is no fucking way that I will be hosing out the barrels. We have one that smells like fucking bile. Somebody has apparently puked in it and it's been fermenting since like the beginning of the fucking summer. And whenever I change that trash I want to puke in it myself and the smell gets on me and then affects the customer pleasure with our store. See where I'm going to bring this up to management with that comment but maybe I won't because that will just make it so that I have to fucking clean that shit for that fucking non-english speaking mother fucking sad excuse for a janitor. He doesn't even use a fucking mop. I want a janitor who will mop that's what I like to see. A janitor who busts his fucking stones for his goddamned money. Better yet he's lucky he has this fucking job he should be trying to please everyone he could be sitting outside the fucking Home Depot asking all contractors for a "yob" fucking goddamned ungrateful fuck...DO SOME FUCKING WORK MOTHERFUCKER...I'm not racist just intolerant...I believe that all races should be able to live but in their own GODDAMNED FUCKING COUNTRY COME OVER HERE LEARN TO SPEAK FUCKING ENGLISH AND BE GLAD THAT WE DON'T DEPORT YOUR ASS AND GIVE YOUR JOB TO A NEEDY WHITE MAN...Fuck this blog could get me in trouble this is totally friends only...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your shit is broken don't buy it don't ask for a discount...you would buy good stuff if you really needed it you fuckstick asshole motherfucker...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really getting sick of pulling doors for someone who has nothing to do so he won't fucking do it. I'm a fat dude too so I know that you don't feel like moving from your desk but you know what I do it daily. Get the fuck up and pick something up motherfucking assfuck. It's not right that the customer had to wait around for an hour and a half because your too lazy and make up excuses until I drop all the shit that I'm doing to fucking help your lazy ass. I'm about to just fucking stop and say F.I. Fuck it man. This dude not longer abides...Watch "The Big Lebowski"....These are some of the things that affect my work day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1063099035318457472?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1063099035318457472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1063099035318457472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1063099035318457472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1063099035318457472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-914.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/14'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-2311646064687729314</id><published>2007-09-11T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:01:23.388-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/11</title><content type='html'>Just a small entry for today. I was over at the lumber door/pad today while a man was having about 25 sheets of sheetrock loaded into his truck by the forktruck with the guys from lumber. The man was paying for his sheetrock when an older woman walks up to the cashier and asks him if she can get a board cut and he explained to her that she would be taken care of as soon as someone was free from loading. She then cried out that if she didn't get this board cut the woman she was with would DIE! I was not aware that wood was the cure to any kind of illness at all. The woman played the fucking death card. She then proceeded to harass the sheetrock man exclaiming that the board would take five minutes and that his sheetrock would take an hour and the other woman would be dead. She was severly fucked up and I wanted to punch her in the throat because she was just that goddamned annoying. The guy with the sheetrock ended up going off on her for me. He told her that "patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue even for someone at your old age!" I was fucking dying this man was voicing my thoughts. But that's pretty much it for today mostly same ol' boring shit while the rain drizzled down. The man was buying sheetrock while rain was coming down??? He wasn't all there either I guess. These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-2311646064687729314?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/2311646064687729314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=2311646064687729314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2311646064687729314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2311646064687729314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-911.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/11'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-665674838620707094</id><published>2007-09-06T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:38:59.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 9/06</title><content type='html'>So first let me paint a picture for you; a family of indians, not tomahawk indians the dot indians. They all walk into the Home Depot. Now they all looked normal. Except for one thing. They were all wearing those goddamned Crocs shows. Has anybody ever told them that they look ridiculous. Now this was the father, mother, son and daughter all sporting red, purple, baby blue, and hot pink Crocs respectivly. Now these are the most STUPID FUCKING LOOKING FOOTWEAR. Never mind when grown adults, nevermind, MEN wear them. Men have no right to wear those shoes. But on some goddamned sneakers like the rest of the men in the goddamned nation. WHAT THE FUCK YOU LOOK FUCKING RIDICULOUS...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DON'T LEAVE YOUR VEHICLE UNATTENDED AT PUBLIC BUSINESSES IF YOU HAVE A CAR ALARM...There is no way to contact you to turn it off and it gives me a headache and the desire to take a bat to that shit. If my job didn't way in the balance and I had to listen to it for 4 hours I would've. It went from about 10 in the morning until about 4 in the afternoon. I was there at 1 to hear it. This fucking asshole left his shit ass fucking Nissan Pathfinder that was held together by zip ties at the Home Depot and his goddamned alarm went off with no way to shut it off. It just fucking sucked. Goddamned MOTHER FUCKINGG PEOPLE FUCKING PISS ME THE FUCK OFF CUNT ASS FUCK BITCH MOTHER FUCK ASSHOLE LICKING WHORESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of feel better now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-665674838620707094?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/665674838620707094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=665674838620707094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/665674838620707094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/665674838620707094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-i-thought-about-on-906.html' title='Things I thought about on 9/06'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-89043102448381564</id><published>2007-08-26T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:05:02.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/26</title><content type='html'>So today nothing really funny happened. Well it wasn't funny to me anyways. I was helping a woman load up her cart with about 50 bricks of paverstones. While bending down to set them down she reaches up and accidentally knocked about 30 of them off the shelf and about 10 of them landed on my back. So my back is now fucking hurting like hell and I got to spend a bunch of time at the hospital to get checked out which our manager didn't like me going there with HD footing the bill but oh fucking well. I also had to get Drug tested for some mysterious reason and they sent me with a department head. Good thing I got Bob from hardware at least he's not boring. But I'm out of work tomorrow and I'm high on Vicodin right now because the ER doc was cool at BMC...Oh well should be back on Monday to working. Fucking dumbass woman. Not to mention that her daughter was breast feeding her baby right in Home Depot. That was some fucked up shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-89043102448381564?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/89043102448381564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=89043102448381564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/89043102448381564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/89043102448381564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-826.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/26'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-7347054419361762345</id><published>2007-08-26T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:04:10.040-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>A Story from back in the day</title><content type='html'>So this little tale comes from my days of working at the MCLA campus store back in January. I was working one day when an attractive young lady and her assumed boyfriend come in. They are walking around the little store and anything that she would say to him he would answer in a squealing sound as if he were a pig. Now this was odd enough in itself. The last thing that they picked up for the counter was a box of condoms. This led to the thought of does he pig squeal while they are fucking because that would just be fucked up. And if he does how can she deal with that, or is that how she gets off. These types of things keep me from ever progressing in this fucked world. These are some of the thinks that I [thought] of while at work...back in the day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-7347054419361762345?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/7347054419361762345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=7347054419361762345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7347054419361762345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7347054419361762345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/story-from-back-in-day.html' title='A Story from back in the day'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-6916187969965058007</id><published>2007-08-25T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:38:15.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/25</title><content type='html'>Short entry for today. I took French for all 4 years of high school and last night I realized that if you meld english and french that The Home Depot could actually be known as The Home Of Pot seeing as de is of in french. Oddities that make it impossible for me to work. Oh yeah and Mrs. Ducquette of Ducquette's driving school is a fucking crazy ass bitch. She came into THD yesterday and bought a thing for blinds that holds em up and everything it cost her 16 bucks. She took it outside had me cut off about a 3 cent piece from it and threw the rest of it away. She just wanted the little stick that you turn to open and close blinds. Fucking dumb ass hoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think of while at work....Now I have to go to work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-6916187969965058007?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/6916187969965058007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=6916187969965058007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6916187969965058007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/6916187969965058007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-825.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/25'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-1578002281351392465</id><published>2007-08-21T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:36:54.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/21</title><content type='html'>I love '90's alternative rock. I love a lot of the music from back then; know all the words and whatever. But as I was walking through today singin' along to "Wonderwall" by Oasis for the 8th time that day I thought that maybe this billion dollar company could put more than 90 fucking songs on a playlist so that I can have a bit of a variety in my tunage for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I understand in the weight conscious America people want to exercise. But when you park in the farthest parking spot for your excercise would you excercise your way back up towards the front with the cart. That's the point of parking out there. To make yourself work out a little more. Not to make me pissed off at every goddamned customer who does it. Now I've actually seen someone who was parked 3 spaces from where all of our carts are put bring his cart 5 spaces the opposite way to put a HD cart with a group of Wal-Mart carts. What the Fuck man. Is your head so far stuck up your fucking ass that you don't know the difference from group a gray carts and a group of orange carts like the one that you are pushing that you've walked past twice since you've parked in the fucking parking lot. I also hate when people think they are doing me a favor by shoving a cart towards me while I'm already pushing a line of 12 carts towards the front. I'm a little fucking busy at the moment. I 'm sorry that I can't directly cater to your needs but you'll have to walk it up there yourself mother fucker. You also have the option of leaving it right there and making me walk back through where I've already cleared all the carts out. Whatever you fucking want you fucking asshole mother fucking pricks. And then the mother fuckers who bring over Wal-Mart carts then try to pass them to me. Uh-uh. No way am I bringing back the fucking Wal-Mart carts I've already got enought to do. You can fuck yourself and your fucking Wal-Mart fucking cart...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-1578002281351392465?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/1578002281351392465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=1578002281351392465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1578002281351392465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/1578002281351392465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-821.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/21'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-3853594804426315013</id><published>2007-08-20T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:32:10.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/20</title><content type='html'>Yesterday while out in the parking lot pushing carts with George we were approached by a police officer who told us that he needed some help. He came up to us and said in these exact words, "I need your help. We have a missing child and need you to look everywhere. 3 Years of age. White Male. Blonde Hair....Scooby-Doo pajamas." Ok so George and I scour the parking lot for a good 25 minutes. Check the sheds, the underbrush, in between cars, everywhere. And while we are walking around we regroup with each other and start brainstorming. What the fuck kind of mother loses her child at the Wal-Mart check-out? George says that children don't just run away and hide, that he's probably hiding right in plain site...I then think that he could be hiding if she's an abusive mother. Maybe she isn't fit to have a child. This is about the time that we find out that they have found the kid inside of Wal-Mart. He was sleeping amongst the shirts in the clothing department. My first question is why did she bring her child into Wal-Mart at 4 in the afternoon in his pajamas? Why wasn't she paying better attention to the kid? You have to not be looking at the kid for about 5 or 10 minutes for a 3 year old to wander to clothing section and find a comfy spot for a nap. I hope that the police are getting further involved into this woman's parenting because I think that people like her shouldn't have fucking kids. What if some sick bastard had taken the kid and raped or killed him? He would be fucked up for the rest of his life in the head or even worse dead seeing as that's the consequences of being killed. D.S.S. should be brought into this matter to at least monitor her parenting, the kid may be better off going up for adoption. Let a family who can care for the kid take him. What the fuck woman???? Fucking people need to get their heads out of their asses when it comes to having kids...anyone can pop one out but it takes a fucking adult to be able to raise a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright to switch subjects kind of...let's move on to today's moronic customer. I had a gentleman come up to me and call me over to ask me "Will this battery work with my charger?" I look at the Ryobi batteries and it says on the package, "Works with all Ryobi tools and chargers" and I read this to him and ask him if his charger is Ryobi and he says that it is. This does NOT take an idiot to figure out. He then continues to bramble on to me that if it doesn't work he will be coming back to throw the batteries through the windows! Now I don't know if he was trying to threaten me or what but I really could care less. I point out to him that if the batteries don't work to return them and he can get money back, but if he came to throw them through the windows a lawsuit was possible and he would be paying money then. He continued to tell me of how he will be really pissed off and he would throw them through the windows. I then told him that it would be fine with me because that just gives me job security as I will be sweeping up the glass while he was in trouble with the corporation. He then departed the store with his newly bought batteries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more for today. Our phone center girl that was on today is a fiesty little person to say the least. Well, she was on the phone with a gentleman and trying to explain something to him and he threatened to come down and shoot her for some reason. Now this is just fucked up and she asks for his name and number so that the lumber associate could call him back and the dumbass gave up the information. Apparantly death threats aren't a problem with the police where he's from or something. And if I have all my facts straight. The man who threatened her came in and was in his late 50's or early 60's and was quite worn out looking. I don't really see him doing much harm to anyone. I had to load up his shingles in his truck for him because he couldn't lift them up. How the fuck would he pull the trigger on a gun. Maybe these weren't the same men...correct me if I'm wrong....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the FUCKING things I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-3853594804426315013?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/3853594804426315013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=3853594804426315013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/3853594804426315013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/3853594804426315013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-820.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/20'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-5068548612217353688</id><published>2007-08-19T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:09:09.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/19</title><content type='html'>So today while chilling at the service desk while I was supposed to be doing something more productive an older gentleman walks up and asks the service associate for a piece of paper, a pen, and a tape measure. He says that he wants to measure one of our grills on display to see if it will fit in his SUV. He then procedes to ask us if they are assembled or in a box. We tell him of our free assembly and he then looks back and asks if he measures the display how will he know if the grill he buys will fit in his truck. This man really thinks that the display models are a different size than the grills we sell them. Now bear in mind that our grills are on display and life size and you can see that they are not minitures or anything like that. This man actually thought that he would be buying a different size grill. Some people are just plain stupid....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I also had a woman drive up to have me load a box that was probably about 80" long and 18" wide. She drives up in a Volkswagon Passat wagon and opens up the hatch and says "There you go" She didn't even lower down the back seat or anything. I asked her to put down the seats and pull forward the passenger seat so that it would fit and you would think that I asked her to blow me or something. She had such an accosted look on her face. She was rolling her eyes and everything. I wish that I could've fucking smacked her. Fucking ho...These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-5068548612217353688?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/5068548612217353688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=5068548612217353688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5068548612217353688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/5068548612217353688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-819.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/19'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-843012382094535444</id><published>2007-08-18T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:09:51.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/18</title><content type='html'>Alright so today I went into one of our bathrooms at the Home Depot and I recognized that someone had been so upset with our store that they carved into the T.P. dispenser that "The Home Depot Sucks". Now what I would really like to know is if this person went in there just to carve this or if they had to use the restroom and got bored while sitting on the can? Who brings a carving implement into the bathroom anyways? Why do they feel the need to be doing there business and carving. I don't understand people sometimes. While on the subject of bathrooms I would also like to say taht yesterday I went into the restroom that is open to the public and went to go into the handicapped stall, because why should we let the crips get all that space I, in fact like the extra room...sometimes I practice new dance steps while in there but that's beside the point. Well, anyways, I went into the stall and somebody had thought to smear their shit on the seat of the toilet and around the outside of the bowl and I think to myself why in the FUCK would anyone smear their shit around on the toilet. This wasn't just that they missed they smeared that shit around. What the fuck are these people? Fucking monkeys? What the FUCK! I was speechless at this finding. It just mystifies me at how primitive people are. We have fucking technology up the ass and fucking geniouses and shit and then we have these people smearing SHIT AROUND ON A TOILET!!!!!These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-843012382094535444?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/843012382094535444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=843012382094535444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/843012382094535444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/843012382094535444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-818.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/18'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-2597479021175298587</id><published>2007-08-17T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:11:46.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/17</title><content type='html'>Alright so today I had to deal with people's ignorance. These people just fucking bother me all to hell. I had a woman walk up to me in the door department and hand me a number 1 in a package, one like you would put on your door for your house number and asks me, "What would I do with just one 1?" I looked at her and said that if you live at house 1 it would work wonderfully...What the Fuck. She then looks at me and says, "Do you have any more out back and don't tell me that you don't have any out there because that's what 3 other people have told me." Well, if three fucking people have told you that there are none out back then there must not be any out in the fucking back! I mean come on use your fucking head woman. Do you think that I'm gonna pull a fucking 1 from my fucking ass just because I was saving it for her? People are fucking retarded. These goddamned customers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is that we aren't supposed to accept tips at the Home Depot, ok? People insist on offering them and most understand when I decline there pitiful fucking dollar for putting ten bags of 80 lbs. cement in the back of their Volkswagon Rabbit or whatever I did. But you still get these ignorant fuckers that try to force it on you even though your manager is just sitting right behind you and you tell them that. I once had a fucking old bag of bones stuff 52 cents into my fucking apron pocket. What the FUCK am I going to do with FIFTY-TWO CENTS?????? And I can get fired for that; for 52 fucking cents. These people just drive me nuts. Now if I just put in 20 bags of cement in your truck and we are out in the lot and you off me a 5 spot...I won't see money drop on the ground....you get it? These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-2597479021175298587?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/2597479021175298587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=2597479021175298587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2597479021175298587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2597479021175298587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-817.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/17'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-7924964289317467463</id><published>2007-08-17T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:10:48.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bicyclists belong on Bike paths!</title><content type='html'>Alright so this is something from on the way to work. I was driving to work at about 12:30 going past right where the railtrail is conviently placed so that people may bicycle there way to wherever they may be going out of the way of cars. Now I was driving at about 12:30 and that is lunch traffic time. When I drove by two bicycle riders, two and they were riding side by side so that one of them was practically in the lane of traffic! Get the fuck off of the road I don't know what makes you think that you can just drive right along with the rest of us. The last thing that I want to go down for is vehicular homicide! What happens if one them crashes right into all the dangerous traffic. They should be using the nifty bike riding trail the fucking dumbasses. Oh well though what can I really do but to sit here and fucking gripe about it in my fucking blog...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-7924964289317467463?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/7924964289317467463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=7924964289317467463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7924964289317467463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/7924964289317467463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/bicyclists-belong-on-bike-paths.html' title='Bicyclists belong on Bike paths!'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-2010793995768255509</id><published>2007-08-14T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:14:04.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/14</title><content type='html'>So I'm thinking of doing these little things every day that I work and I see something that irritates me, makes me chuckle, angers me, or just gets me to thinking whatever...but I have the next two days off so I won't be doing one of these until Friday or later but on to tonights...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So first of all today while wandering around aimlessly before I got to leave the premises for a while I overheard a younger child probably of 8 or 9 years old cursing in plain old speech as if it were okay. Not as in using "fuck" or "shit" but the words that are P.C. for television such as "ass", "bitch", and "piss". Now this kid wasn't utilizing all of these words but I have heard multiple children out in the parking lot cussing. Since when was it ok to let your kid use such language. I know that when I was a kid "hell" would get me a smack in the back of the head. I still try not to cuss in front of my family it's just disrespectful. Maybe I'm just "old-fashioned" but I think that I'm right in believing that these parents should be utilizing the old soap in the mouth technique.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another gripe that I have today (yes two things!) is this older woman who has been coming in for the last 5 days and buying 8 bags of mulch each time that comes out to 40 bags of mulch that she has at home and I AM curious as to what she needs that mulch for but the real problem is that she comes in and I've loaded her each time and each time she wants it loaded her way. Not that I do this job every goddamn day of the week but she wants some stacked "horizontally" and some "vertically" her words. and one on the floor. And she also wants no "muck" on her car seat, yet she wants to come in and purchase large bags of mulch? I don't understand her thinking on this. Get a fucking friend with a truck goddamn it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, she is not the only customer who feels that they should tell me how to be doing my job. I don't understand why purchasing lumber makes you an expert at putting it into the back of the pickup truck when you can't even fuckin' lift it because you are a frail 75 year old fuckin' woman. "Lift with your legs", "Hold it close to your body" and "Don't hurt your back" are all muttered to me all day. Like I don't already know these things. I wasn't born yesterday you old fuckin' bag! And, as to hurting my back, wasn't planning on it, I don't think that most people who DO hurt their backs plan on hurting them, it's just something that happens. And as to old men whom are 80 and still come in and purchase twenty 80 Lbs. bags of cement and make me put it on a cart and then put it in your 30 year old truck then joke with me that you don't know how you're going to get it out of your truck don't fuckin' buy it! Hire someone to do it for you because I WILL NOT take pity on you and come to your home and carry it into your backyard. It just won't ever happen...WHAT THE FUCK PEOPLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found out today that getting to leave work to pick up a fridge from an old lady's house is fun because you don't have to deal with these fuckin' asshole customers and fucking retarded management. These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-2010793995768255509?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/2010793995768255509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=2010793995768255509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2010793995768255509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/2010793995768255509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-814.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/14'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8690451120708013677</id><published>2007-08-13T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:14:47.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/13</title><content type='html'>Today while I was walking around the parking lot at the Homo Depot I saw a car with a Maryland lisence plate. You know how Massachusetts plates have "The Spirit of America" and Vermont says "The Green Mountain State" or they all have the states little catch phrase or quote or what-have-you; whatever makes the state what it is; uniquities of the state. Well when I read the Maryland plate the quote actually reads "www.maryland.gov" this is how lame that states government is...they can't even think of a fuckin' quote to describe their state; just the goddamned website. They have a cool flag. They could've at least mentioned that they are the neighbor of the nation's capitol. I think that this makes Maryland one of the least creative states ever. Fuck them! These are some of the things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8690451120708013677?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8690451120708013677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8690451120708013677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8690451120708013677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8690451120708013677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-813.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/13'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419023872253256718.post-8925736009442298230</id><published>2007-08-06T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T10:15:21.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I thought about on 8/06</title><content type='html'>I was walking around in the Home Depot parking lot today while I was supposed to be collecting carts and I stumbled across a car with a simple bumper sticker, and it read: "I slow for Manatees" with a picture of a manatee. I think that this is one of the most fucking retarded bumper stickers I have ever seen on a car for the simple fact that; when was the last time that YOU had to slow for a manatee. Fucking call me when you do have to slow down to let a manatee cross the road because I would love a fucking picture of that, thank you very much. I have also seen other aquatic animals on "braking" or "slowing" bumper stickers such as dolphins. I believe that people who use these bumper stickers should be clubbed. These are some things that I think of while at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4419023872253256718-8925736009442298230?l=thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/feeds/8925736009442298230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4419023872253256718&amp;postID=8925736009442298230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8925736009442298230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4419023872253256718/posts/default/8925736009442298230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thingsbakerthinksabout.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-thought-about-on-806.html' title='Things I thought about on 8/06'/><author><name>Baker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11878168524561831857</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7onrLcnX7k/R_w005tmX-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Bh18gN2KpQc/S220/DSC00126.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
