Werk Load


Werk Load

Werk Load. Zab was really swamped and I had been hired for the same position; however, HR kept delaying my training with their complicated reservation system. We both wondered why there was so much mystery surrounding committing to a start date.

But really, I didn’t really care I just wanted to sleep.

Shady Greys


Everything was evolving rapidly, everything except our friendship. It remained the same stagnating rumble of insignificant arguments.  But she was still entertaining and any doubts I had that our friendship could suffer from our different yet same personalities was gone the minute I went into this overdrive adrenaline rush of completing everything prior to my departure.

Although it was annoying not to receive an apology. After all it was clear she had been out-of-bounds for no logical reason, I thought. I replied her a “not to worry shit happens” from her email response.

Zab Email address_Page_1

If I have to be perfectly honest I was proving myself at the same time I was having sex (or starting) with this very tall ex-kickboxing champion, who was a bouncer at work. He was a clear revelation that I had hit rock bottom. Beautiful man, but as dirty as pork he’d never eat. Moroccan man I had flirtatious banter at coat check, where he hung around my side most of the nights. He only had this job on Thursdays til Saturdays and trained the rest of the week.  The first time he brought me to his place I wanted to run back to my car drive home and never speak to him again, which I should have but I didn’t. He had a six-pack so I stayed. Horny makes you stupid. His apartment was shadiest til grey, cause if anything had ever been white it had furled and died in this place. I did it in the mess but it was scary. I’m surprised no boils or herpes miraculously appeared as I was supposed to contract a fatal disease from his bed sheets alone, as I later learned had never been washed either. It was just too filthy. He lived in a studio apartment  bathroom right next to the entrance door where tub was crusted with black and toilet didn’t flushed. His floors had never been washed (he said he didn’t know how), clothes on the floor bed by the window  facing his tiny laminated kinda white kitchen table filled with crumbs and food from yesteryear’s.  Disgusting. It was gloomy, I don’t know how he found the energy to buy the darkest drapes for his ridiculously small windows, which were dusted over with crap. It was the lair of doom after the apocalypse had struck and he was waiting for the zombies to come eat him.

At work he was always so clean, shoes shined, hair clipped and clean,  immaculate suits, clean nails. My whole theory on man changed and I should have figured it out when I had to drive him home all the way to no where land and crossroad to garbage life. I had never met such a guy and I deduced that he was probably on welfare and used that bouncer gig as extra money. He had no other skills and he clearly didn’t have the money to pursue his passion. He had been a champion in Morocco and tried to succeed in North America but  quickly discovered  funding for this sport was scarce and that help or opportunities for immigrants are not as Hollywoodian as they are lead to believe in their country. His rival had gone to Sweden and had risen at an international level.

It was a desolate situation hence the fact I didn’t mind so much about Zab’s comments, because at the moment she was not the worst thing in my life. If I could stick to such a guy who had no potential and was obviously not a kickboxing champion, just a guy with a six-pack who wanted the ladies, leaving far away was clearly a good decision.

When I arrived from my sexual escapade which I swore was the last because as sex was not even that great, I saw something that made me very happy. Finally, a confirmation. My life shades of grey was slowly dissipating itself into clearer skies and bright and luminous horizons.

Emerald Munster_HR Orientation_Page_1Emerald Munster_HR Orientation_Page_2

Speck of an Atom Tirade

The Year, Today

My paper work was progressing at the speed of someone chocking on their own saliva. The whole process was surprising and unexpectantly I jumped in this bandwagon named “get me out of here.” I could have stopped to think for a minute and rationalized on my diverging path, you know like wasn’t I supposed to work in the fashion industry in Hong Kong? But no, I decided it was less effort to just wait and see what happens. I’m a self-inflicted door mat.

I don’t know why I never put my foot down against my flawed vagabond self. This could get me out of some serious trouble (or discernment) if only I listened to the almost non-existent voice of reason hidden in a speck of an atom in my mind. But I didn’t so I went and I sent all y information to Daft For Sure and had less than 10 days to move all my shit, pack my bags, settle my accounts, finalize my taxes and say goodbye to friends for a long while. It seemed impossible but TV  tells you that nice people always prevail. Right?

It was winter, I felt a warm vortex pulling me to another world. A world in the Middle East.


Tirade 2

Zab Email address

No Rest ‘Til Pay Day


Ah, Kabul! I miss you sometimes but everyone has left like the last summer wind that carried an everything flu straight down to the loo.

Yet, you still call me back. The lady who was in my position has recently made everyone aware that she would quit. Interesting…she only lasted eight months. I heard that they worked her like a donkey, beating her when she needed rest during her ascension to a mountain of work.

No one cared to listen to her heaving exhaustion towards the company’s misguided direction and operations. She’s returning to her old company (recruitment agency for airline crew) which she previously thought was worse than any pedophile rapist. Is there anything worse than a pedophile or a rapist? Yes, there is and she met them after working closely with Daft For Sure. And  I am relishing and basking in a throne of delight, as when I occupied this position she never understood the hellish stress I endured trying to beat the defective military machine which bared me from accomplishing menial services staff of herself requested.

h, so it isn’t as easy as one thought to work with the Military and The Company. My shoes do not reek as much with failures and annoyance do they? Are you very uncomfortable wearing them?

More news.

I was asked to come back and work for these bandits.

Insane indeed! Not me of course. Never me. No, no.

The work structure was better prior to my departure as I was only doing my job, now they have decided to pay someone less – because the shriveled hot dogs in Dubai need cost saving measures in order to receive huge bonuses and maintain slave labor costs. In addition, living in a villa cost free is a dream and no unknown disposable employee should hinder it in any way. Hey, if it’s the only way a small invisible man can get an erection, who are we to judge?

Noooo, don’t judge.

Daft For Sure


It was always supposed to be a joke, a way of not revealing the identity of this douche company, but today it appears or it persists to be true.

I have quit working for these behemuts-Sadam Hussain and Khadafi spawns-raping colonizers- hand shaking devil slave owners-corrupted money laundering crooks-genocide loving holocaust denying pedophiles, yet they are still proving to be daft and very much in my life.

These douches have not paid me the entitled 66 days of work, which all companies must abide in the Emirates (they are a Dubai based company) and after several unreturned emails, the HR Manager who only received that title by giving head to the President (another incompetent prick),well to get ahead, which you can understand doesn’t require the greatest skill set and zero intelligence has decided to call my family with fake intentions and claiming that they (she) where trying to reach me. At 2 a.m. Really.

I’ve been emailing you for a month inquiring about the above and you leave your name and telephone number to them instead of responding to the four emails I’ve sent you?

Daft For Sure.

Some people are afraid of the paper trail…




I saw her again. I never thought I would and this time I was prepared and I didn’t react like a child. I wanted to stare in her eyes but noticed she had none, although she can tell the difference between bills and coins and is very quick to put them in her purse. Hmmm. Maybe hearing replaced sight or players got to play. Either way can anyone blame her?

I still wonder the type of disease she’s been afflicted and plagued. Do you know?

Pass it forward if you wanna help.

View the video on Youtube.

Mos Eisley Cantina Skywalk Octopii Perspective

Dragging and suppressing my inner growls of irritations I walked up the stairs of the Skywalk lodged between Siam and Chit Lom. I will never understand the logic of traffic, let alone foot traffic. Bangkok’s Skywalk is filled with endless stairs and large concrete foot; still humans seem stuck like burnt rice in a casserole moving at turtle speed. I mean it is ridiculous to a point where I may turn back and wallow in Siam’s Paragon shallow mall and hunt (again!) for a seat at an Internet cafe, where loads of Thai occupy seat and space. “I don’t understand how the malls are always packed with Thai’s during school and office hours,” I ruminate. You’d never see that in North America or Europe, only during lunch hours and weekends are excluded from this reflection. Pfff, maybe they have more money than us.

Ha, well look at that backwards seems worse than going forward so I resist defecting from this ant like single file with the exception I did not bring anything sweet to the Queen, just my sour disposition and disturbed mind. There is a corner dividing stairs and path towards Central World and it seems to be jammed by the slowness of this world population who have forgotten to put one foot in front of the other and stride forward. Has everyone just learned how to walk?
The cars are honking, the smells of spit, polluted air and other bodily fluids are both exhausting and upsetting, combining to the fact I find it mind blowing that the incessant vrooming sounds of motorbike never cease to surpass all other irritating sensations this city has to offer, this carnival of annoyance and heightened sensation is building up to a nervous breakdown. I need to get out of here.
I’m walking, walking and counting the seconds: 1 turtle, 2 turtles, 3 turtles… I’m so fed up I can’t take it anymore, I hate myself, I hate my life, I am all alone, I have failed and I hate it here. I continue walking I finally turn the corner and “why would he introduce me to his brother and his friends? I don’t get it, I don’t get it. It makes no sense,” my skin burns at the thought of this rejection treason. I really thought he loved me after all these years.
“Don’t fucking cry in public, hold it together until you find another bathroom stall.” Inner groan, inner pain subsides although my chest is still clenched with a slight burning sensation but my eyes are not watering anymore, as my tears have fallen deep inside me after I have swallowed them inwards.
OK going up the steps, turn left and I can pass these clowns straight to the ladies room. As I reach the last one, the couple kissing in front of me that I’ve been avoiding (cause why would you witness happiness) swerves with the rest of the busy crowd and I gasp, lurch and catch a little vomit in my hand stuck tightly on my lips with this face to face where I muffled a shriek .
There in the corner leaning on the hand rails is sitting this woman, selling I’m not sure what because my gaze lasted less than a millisecond on her drooping face. Drooping, dropping is not the correct word. She is a character in Mos Eisley Cantina from Star Wars. She’s the octopus man in Futurama, she is the past imagination of the future that is now in the present and I can’t help but wonder if Lucas had it right all along. How did he know humans would mutate this way?

This was the most repellent, unexpected site I had ever seen. I always had issues with deformities and the twisted ways of our bodies but this is the summum of sick. Fuck, I thought I had problems? She’s out there everyday living the pain and shame of her repugnant appearance and all I could do was gag! No one would ever believe me so I took my tablet out of my brown leather backpack, and turned around shaking and unwilling, but I thinking that maybe, maybe someone could help this woman after seeing this video.
As I doubled back, I notice that I was but an observer in the cantina. There was a little boy, a burnt victim playing the flute in his schools outfit, beggars and a man missing a leg and now I thought I was in India. Wait a minute. Bangkok didn’t use to have such disturbing sites.

Prostitution? Yes.

An amazon filed with dirty old Viagra juiced up small penis man.

An amazon filed with dirty old Viagra juiced up small penis man like picture n.3. He kept harassing the poor woman, who told him repeatedly she was not interested in his dirty penis.

Taxi scams? Yes.

Fake jewels Scams? Yes.

Hookah breaking scam on Koh San Road, where the bartenders, a strange lady who appears from nowhere and a fake policeman join forces to extort money out of drunk tourist? Yes.

Life sucks sometimes

Life sucks sometimes

Children working late at night selling flowers or other useless goods. Yes. But I had never seen the handicapped, lepers and deformed begging in the streets of Bangkok previous to this year. Yesterday I saw a tall, very tall one armed, acid thrown in an eye burnt victim Thai man carrying a large bucket begging for money. These are not the usually sights seen in Bangkok and I cannot stop and wonder if the ever growing economy of Thailand is a disease, a curse where some slum dogging scum prey on the innocent and poor overtly; while the onlooker stares and avoids the issues of this rapid plague growing in Thailand.

Well, at least that day I was no longer sad.

…………and I also got a video footage for you.