Walter Miller's Homepage

I think the best thing for my careear now woud be for Oprah to say she liked me.

March 1998 Update

Page 3 of 7


I am not a big fan of Spring. We have allot of insects all year round in this part of the countrey, but spring alwayes brings more, plus the bugs get huge. Also, it is a time for being in love and it looks like that still hasent hapenned for me. As you know I am in therapey and my counselor told me that I am trying too hard. Love usualy comes, and you cannot force it.

I am not what is called a 'critical thinkor'

It all stems from a poor selfimage. Also I overly seek the acceptance of othors, and do stuppid things for self-vallidation. Therefore this is where the trying to force love comes in. I mentioned this to Granfather while i was bathing him the othor day, (I dont normaly discuss my therapy with him, but it was the only way he'd agree to be bathed), and he said to me, "BOY IF YOU GOT TO FORCE LOVE AT YOUR AGE, THEN GOD HELP YOU WHEN YOUR AS OLD AS ME."

The Jenga(tm) Principle

I alwayes know it is time to bathe the bastord by osberving him playing Jenga, that fun-filled game of stacking small wooden blocks into a teetoring tower of fun. Junior, a local man who is our freind comes ovor on Saturday night to play Jenga, or Parcheesy, or perhapps Sorry!, (or, deppending on how desperate he is for companionship and how drunk the bastord is, Candyland and once even The Uncle Wiggly Game for Godsake.)

Granfather is good at Jenga cause his hands are always covored with grimy muck which cause the blocks to stick good. When the tower seems overly strong for its shape, or finaly tips ovor with the blocks still atached due to oozing gruesome bodily slime and filth, or a Jenga block must be remmoved from being glued to his fingers with mineral spirits, i know that it is is time to wash the monstor.

The othor reason i dont like the Spring

The preponderence of all these knobby things which are hidden in the forested hairy subhuman thatch of Granfather's head and back begin to sprout. When i wash him, i also have to deal with this repulsive miniatture ecosystem of horror. The fact that the surface is filled with crevisses and indentations (some of them an inch deep) packed with dirt and filth does not help.

All winter long I am suposed to sprey him down every 2 weeks with Ruond-Up weedkiller diluted to 15 percent, but somtimes i forget. It is barely the middle of March and alredy theres some sawgrass growing behind one ear, some jumping choyya cactus hooks comming out of his nose (handy for holding a cigarate when your mouth is burnt); and a matted growth of what looks like sea oats with a lacewing beetle nest on it readdy to hatch any day. The sea oats are endangored, and the State Agriculturol Office says i am not allowed to sprey them.

And I dont even want to talk about the danm crocuses. Thanks to El Nino they are the size of cantaloppes. The bulbs are dangeruosly close to his upper spine so the doctor says DO NOT try to dig them out. I am a homecare provider danmmit, not a frikkin landscape gardener.

A speciel meeting at work

I do not know what is worce, my problems at home or wrk. Atleast when i am at one place, i can forget the othor.

This hapenned at the early part of the month, and I still cannot BELIVE it. When i get into work after the long long drive in, I see this Post-It note on my chair, which tells me that there is a speciel meeting that is being called for as soon as i arrive. Yes, a Post-It note, because they do not dare have the balls to put this on the internal e-mail calenders. The meeting is between me, my on-site supervisor, and the satelite location nurse.

Once agian i am houmiliated at my job

There is a litle hemming and hawing at first but soon i pick up on what is hapenning: I am being reprimanded at the request of the girl who I mentioned earlior who sits in the next cube from me. And they are havving this meeting because they think that I AM THE ONE making those awful smells.

But it is NOT me: It is the guy who sits on the othor side of me. And like i said his farts waft ovor two whole cubes.

The sattelite location nurse was very nice to me and spoke in this low voice and sugested that I go to the doctor or a nutritionist and change my diet and perhaps undergo "enzyme therapy" whatevor the hell that means. Then the nurse got up and left and told me that she had left somthing for me in my mail folder.

After she left my site suporvisor told me that this was not a sugestion, but that i HAD to do it, because the girl who complained cannot pefform her job functions in such a "hostile work enviroment." He also said that I am not a Full Bennefits Enployee so i will have to pay for this myself.

Me and him get into a big loud argument.

I told him that it was this OTHOR guy who was farting, NOT ME. Then he asked me how was it that I was able to stand it, if i was even closer to him than the girl who complained. I treid to explain to him that living with Granfather (considoring his farts) have built up my resistence to disgusting odors, and how my nasol passages are permanently seared and olfactory nerves permonently damaged thanks to being with the old bastord so much. I told him that the asteroid that they just located, that will suposedly hit the earth in 30 years was originaly REALY headed toword Uranus, but thanks to HIS anus it is now blowed off cource. But he did not buy it. He told me, "The only way a person can tolorate gas that bad, is if it is his OWN gas," and that George Carlin had proclaimed this in a fammous routine way back in 1971.

This guy is just my site supervisor, and my true supervizer was Noah at the main office in New Yorkcity. If there was aneyone who coud back me up on this, it woud be him. Have you ever heard the old saying, "I have seen the Elephent?" Well, Noah has smelt the elephent's ass, meaning that he has been in the room when Granfather has dropped a bomb. We treid to get him on conferrence call, but this was one of his last days in the office, and so we coud not.

Next, the Ops guy who is in charge of moving lan cables and token rings came in. My site suporvisor told him that my workstation, which was just moved to a new cubicol in the latest Re-org, woud have to be moved YET AGAIN. The Ops guy demands to know why. My site supervisor said "I cant tell you" and then when I looked away for a minute, both of them made this fart noise with their mouths. VeRRRry funny.

Boy was i pissed

The Ops guy told me that i woud have to come into the office on yet ANOTHOR unschedulled day to help him out. But I pleaded with him, and asked if we coud PLEASE do it instead on a Wendsday, because that's the day when i come in. And he said to me "KISS MY ASS."

Let me tell you, for an industrey that just hasent made a whole lot of profits yet, there sure are allot of wiseasses in it. And every danm place i have ever worked where there are conputer programmers in it always seems to be one step away from throwing chairs at one anothor just like they do on the Jerry Springer Show.

After the Ops guy left the office it was just me and the site supervizer alone agian, and in my angor at the whole situation I kicked the recycoling bin which was more empty that i thuoght it was, and so it skidded allover the floor. He said to me "Dont push it, Mister Walter Underscore Miller," because my One-year-Anniversory-of-Hire date was coming up, and it woud be an awfull thing to get an even smaller Job Severence Package than I coud possibly get if i was able to last the full year--which woud already be a pretty small and paltry one as it is.

Just out of curriosity I asked him exactley HOW small and paltrey woud the Job Severance Packege be. And he said, "I cannot tell you, but I will give you a hint: On the day you are fired, you will probly be able to 'Super-Size' it by paying Human Resources an extra 39 cents."

I go back to my desk in shame