So Nate works at Crapoli’s taking pizza orders.

Well the boss, Pee-Wee, or Mr. Wee if you prefer, comes storming in and decrees that all calls must begin with "Merry Christmas from Crapoli’s".

For those of you that don’t know him, Mr. Wee is a thoroughly loathsome bag of shit that’s been roughly pounded into the shape of a human being.

His reasoning for this is he and his wife, Mrs. Wee, were watching 60 Minutes or some other old douchebag news show and on it they observed that people are taking Christ out of Christmas.

Pee Wee, a man that would step on his own mother’s head for a nickel, is worried that Christ, who by all accounts seems to have been a pretty groovy cat, is being removed from the capitalist gang-bang that his birthday has become.

Yeah, I don’t really see the problem either.

So Nate points out that they shouldn’t say ‘Merry Christmas’ as not everyone celebrates Christmas. He mentions this after Mr. Wee has left of course. Not because Nate is afraid of the Wee, but because the Wee is an obstinate ass, to whom any attempt to communicate is worthless.

Trying to reason with Pee Wee is like reading poetry to your dog. It might be somewhat interesting for a brief period of time, but ultimately it’s pretty fucking useless.

So Nate takes the very first call after the decree of the Wee.

Nate: Merry Christmas from Crapoli’s.

Caller: You know, you shouldn’t say ‘Merry Christmas’. Not everyone celebrates Christmas.

So Nate, summoning patience that I can only dream of having, explains to the Master Chief what happened. The Master Chief decides to count the number of people that complain about the greeting.

I cannot fucking wait to see where this is going.

By the way, I'm announcing that I’ll be referring to Christmas as X-mas from now on.

That’s right, I’m intentionally removing Christ from X-mas. Not because I'm anti-Jesus, but because I think Jesus would be embarrassed by what it's become.

If I do ever get the chance to sit down over drinks with Jesus again and return to this mortal plane afterward I’ll have to ask him what he thinks about the whole deal.

Come to think of it, I’ll also have to ask him if he really is the Son of God. Last time we talked we’d just met and it seemed a little rude to ask him "Who’s your Daddy?"

One thing I do remember us talking about was the Bible.

God and Jesus both are rather disappointed about how the Bible turned out. Even the part that God wrote himself, the Ten Commandments, got fucked up. They completely left out "Thou Shalt Not Be an Asshole" which we both agreed was probably the best one.

Did I mention I was on the largest dose of morphine anyone at the hospital had ever seen anyone survive?

Anyways, I don’t want to make it sound like I hate X-mas or anything. I like some of the elements of it. Most of them in fact, I just despise a couple of things about it enough to ruin it.

Like the fact that I can’t drive anywhere from November1st to mid-January without six or eight people trying to fucking kill me.

"I MUST CELEBRATE THE BIRTH OF CHRIST AND I’LL RUN STRAIGHT THE FUCK OVER ANY MOTHERFUCKER THAT GETS IN MY WAY!!!"

I guarantee that if I ever have another job and therefore the ability to buy X-mas gifts again I’ll be doing all my shopping on-fucking-line pretty much for that reason alone.

I also hate the fact that the X-mas season now starts the day after Halloween. Seriously people, I don’t usually know what day of the date is, or day of the week for that matter, hell, sometimes I don’t even know what month it is, but I know when goddam Halloween is and I know that X-mas comes after it. I’m not in danger of forgetting or anything. You don't have to start reminding me a full month early.

But most of all, I’m sick of the people I mentioned earlier.

You know, the people that are ‘offended’ by someone wishing them a ‘Merry X-mas’. OK, I can understand being annoyed by a ‘Merry X-mas’ if you’re Jewish and you’ve been hearing it all day.

By and large the Jews were somewhat annoyed by Jesus, this is historical fact.

So if anyone has the right to be offended by a ‘Merry X-mas’ I suppose it would be the Jews.

Anyone else can suck my nuts.

See, they key word in ‘Merry X-mas’ is MERRY. It’s a tiding of well being. Being offended by ‘Merry X-mas’ is like being offended by ‘Good day to you’.

I don’t give a God-Damn if you’re a Christian or not, ‘Merry X-mas’ is nothing to be offended by.

I’d like to hand out ‘Fuck You’s’ to everyone that’s been ‘offended’ by ‘Merry X-mas’ and see which one they like better.

So until I come up with some way of resolving my feelings about the holiday I’ll not be celebrating X-mas.

At least, not in the purest, meaning consumerist, sense.

I'm not celebrating it, but I am accepting gifts.

You know, so I don't offend anyone's beliefs.

So TerriblyWrong.com is back up and this week not only is there a new Something Here Is Terribly Wrong comic strip by yours truly, but I've also written this week's article.

It was something that I originally started writing for the blog here, but that was before I started pissing and moaning about my crappy life all the goddamn time.

Speaking of my shitty life, I went to bed early last night figuring on going to the doctor today. I figured since the DHHR woman made the appointment I'd go and show the doctor the marked decine in my health since I saw him last month.

I decided this after having tried to call the DHHR lady all day yesterday to find out if I still needed to go see the doctor today.

So I'm awakened at 9 AM by the phone.

It's the DHHR woman saying that they got my paperwork from the doctor from more than a month ago so she cancelled my appointment for today.

I was a little pissed till I realized that I could then go back to sleep.

This is my life people.

So things are looking a little better.

Yesterday I called the woman from the DHHR to ask how things were going with my Medicaid application.

See, November 7th I went to the Broadway clinic to see their doctor. He wrote a bunch of shit down and sent it to another doctor. So yesterday the DHHR woman tells me I need to see their doctor.

I assume this means I need to see the doctor that the first doctor sent his paperwork to.

I really need to quit assuming things when it comes to the government and it’s encrouching presence in my life.

It kinda went like this:

DHHR Woman: You need to see our doctor. I made you an appointment for the 10th.

Ford: OK. What’s the address.

DHHR Woman: Do you know where the Broadway clinic is?

Ford: Yes, I’ve been there.

DHHR Woman: Well you need to go there with our paperwork and application.

Ford: I went there on the 7th of last month with your application. In fact, YOU made the appointment for me.

DHHR Woman: Well we should have gotten that paperwork back by now.

Ford: That’s kinda why I called.

So tomorrow I need to call her back to see if I still need to go back to the clinic to see the doctor that didn’t look at my hernia to have him not look at my hernia again so that the government can decide if my hernia is bad enough to warrant them fixing it.

I informed her that we ARE working on a timetable as I’m running out of money and I’m getting shut-off notices on my utilities.

That’s when I got some measure of good news.

She said if I got any more shut-off notices to bring them to her and she’d take care of them.

So at least that’s taken care of.

So last night Jeremy, the Jew for all seasons, stayed up till 9 AM this morning and beat HALO 2. It was his first time and my 5th.

After that I slept better than I have in the last few weeks.

This was good, considering that today was December 8th.

I never really go into it here, but December 8th is a bad day for me.

But I managed to have a pretty decent day today, despite the date.
Anyways, I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow I have phone calls to make. I’m going to try to hold onto the cable modem at least till the end of the month. After that I may be offline for a day or two till I get some dial-up running.

Jesus, Billy, finger-licking, mother-fucking, pogo-sticking, CHRIST!!!

Admit it God, you're just fucking mocking me now!

FUCK!!!

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!

So first off today I drop off a movie we rented at Hollywood video. I know, I shouldn't be renting movies, but it was Spider Man 2, the greatest comic book movie ever made.

Tremble in it's magnificence.

Anyways, I see that they still have a 'Help Wanted' sign. Seeing as how I went through the rediculously complicated online application system some time ago and they hadn't hired me I thought I'd ask what thier fucking problem was.

You know, since I totally rule and all.

I was informed by the zit-faced punk behind the counter that they would have called me if i got through the application process. "You must have filled something out wrong", he says.

Let's examine this, shall we?

I am a college graduate, I have an IQ of 170, I've seen 90% of thier stock (and can recite lines verbatim from 50%), I applied for any hours at any pay in any position.

I guess I'm just not Hollywood Video material.

Not like the high school kid behind the counter with the fucking 'manager' tag.

He suggested re-applying.

I suggested he drown in a bucket of Clearasil.

I've got mad people-skills.

But that's not the job I spoke of in my last post. That job was at Napoli's Pizza. In the call center. I figure I can handle that job well enough. Napoli's, from here out to be referred to as 'Crapoli's' (Wanna guess weather I got the fucking job or not?) is the institution where my roommate Nate works. He got in rather easily.

So our friend Jeremy needed a job. He mentioned it to Nate, who mentioned it to his boss who immediately called Jeremy at MY HOUSE to come in immediately for an interview. He was training the next day.

So then our friend Adam (From Adam Needef's Game show Utopia!) needed a job. He too applied and got in immediately.

So being desperate for cash at this point (largely due to government efficiency) I figured it would be no problem to get a job at good 'Ol Crapoli's (Home of the Grease Bucket! tm), right?

So I call the manager on duty, whom Nate nicknamed the Master-Chief. In short, she said "NO".

It went something like this:

Ford: "Are you hiring?"

Master Chief: -Pause-

Ford: "This is Ford."

Master Chief: (with phone away from face) "God-dammit Nate! Why did you tell him to call in here?"

Nate: (In background) "What? I told him NOT to apply at this shithole!" (Or words to that effect.)

Ford: "Nate didn't know. He wasn't even the one that patched me through to you."

Master Chief: "Well I've already got Nate, Jeremy and Adam, I don't need another one of you guys."

Ford: "So, you're not hiring then?"

Master Chief: "Why would you want to work here anyway?"

Ford: "Because I need money. And even the shit-money that your shit-job provides is better than nothing."

Master Chief: "Yeah, it is sort of a shit-job."

Ford: "I would have applied sooner, but I thought sure by now they'd have trained monkeys to use phones well enough to put you guys out of fucking business."

It kinda went downhill from there.

So, twice today I've been rejected from jobs that can, have been and are almost exclusively filled by complete incompetents.

Not that I'm suggesting that Nate, Jeremy and Adam are incompetent. A bit unhinged, perhaps, but who am I to talk?

So my fucking self worth is just fucking SOARING at this fucking point.

FUCK!!!

And on Tuesday they're shutting off my cable. I'm pretty sure I can delay it, but it means I may be offline for a day or two till I can get NetZero or something running.

Remember when NetZero started up and they were called NetZero because they were free? Well apparently in this economy free is now equal to negative ten dollars a month. Still, it's better than what I'm paying now and it likely won't be too much slower.

In the meantime, I would like to point out that I am available for employment if anyone reading this needs a writer, artist, or anything that doesn't require any heavy lifting.

I have written several grants for a recycling center in my hometown. In fact, it is almost completely funded by money I brought in. So if you need a grant written, I'm your man.

Need a term paper written? I have an english degree and a history of writing papers the night before they were due (sometimes on books I hadn't even read) and got 'A's on them. So you need a term paper written? E-mail me.

Need art or basic HTML programming for your website? I'm pretty good with the digital stuff.

Are you female and lonely? Do you fear commitment? Are you affraid you might not be the classically accepted vision of 'attractiveness'? For the right amount of money I'll lick, suck, fondle or fuck whatever you want, whenever you want, for as long as you could possibly want. (Transexuals will be taken on a case-by-case basis. Post-op's only please.)

So come on, there's lots of shit I'm good at, surely I can do it for someone.

Oh, and after all that unpleasant noise I'd like to thank those of you that sent me money. I really did only put that up there to get money from suckers and compulsive net-donors, not solicit money from my friends, but that's who responded, and I appreciate it.

You guys are great.

So I'm torn here.

There's a job that I'm capable of doing in my condition.

If I apply tomorrow, I'll get hired tomorrow.

I'd have a paycheck by Friday.

It's six days a week, the hours are different each day, and the employers suck, but it's easy money.

But what will it do to my chances of getting my surgery done? Will it disqualify me for benefits? I don't care if I lose all the other 'help' they've offered, but I still need medicaid.

But if I don't take the job I'll have all my utilities shut off before they decide to help me pay my utilities.

The nicest thing about this job is that it's so crappy that I won't be upset if I get fired from it. In fact, if I get sick of it it'll be fun to make them fire me.

Then maybe I'll be able to get unemployment.

Hell, maybe I can now. I never checked because I was trying to get this taken care of before I fucking hit bottom.

Well the bottom, my friends, is near.

But it's not here yet.

Wish me luck. I may actually apply tonight, which means I may be in training as soon as tomorrow. If things work out, I'll be bitching about my crappy job in no time.