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We once roamed the vast forums of Corona Coming Attractions. Some of us had been around from The Before Times, in the Days of Excelsior, while others of us had only recently begun our trek. When our home became filled with much evil, including the villainous Cannot-Post-in-This-Browser and the dreaded Cannot-Log-In, we flounced away most huffily to this new home away from home. We follow the flag of Jubboiter and talk about movies, life, the universe, and everything, often in a most vulgar fashion. All are welcome here, so long as they do not take offense to our particular idiom.
Jubbers wrote:I unofficially have a job! Starts first Monday of August!!! Details (and officialness) will come on Monday, and Monday we should find out where the company needs us to move to (either St. Louis or Urbana-Champaign).
In short, goodbye teaching, hello computer programming.
The job is now official; I'm going to be a programmer, most likely working in natural language processing and textual analysis, for the largest beer company in St. Louis Still don't know the location (I will be getting phone calls today - but it is possible I will be at a big university research lab) or whether I'm technically starting out as a full-time apprentice (still a pay upgrade from this past year), but once those little details like where we are moving to are worked out, I'll probably announce it on Facebook. (No more annoying "do you have a job yet?" questions! though Goiter will still get them from his grandma. I could make 6 figures, and she would still ask that. Penis.)
(Just to clarify, Jubbers wasn't calling my grandmother a penis. She was suggesting that my grandmother thinks I should be the one with the job, because I am [allegedly] the one with the penis.)
Oddly enough, I've never been afflicted with the so-called Dickie-Doo Disease. Even when I weighed 325 pounds, I could see Ol' Floppy. Maybe it helps that my body is the kind that distributes the fat all over. It's not confined to the gut. I've known guys with huge guts and bird legs who still wore size 34 jeans. Fuckin' freaks.
The Swollen Goiter of God wrote:I hid it away after Jubboiter was born.
Oddly enough, I've never been afflicted with the so-called Dickie-Doo Disease. Even when I weighed 325 pounds, I could see Ol' Floppy. Maybe it helps that my body is the kind that distributes the fat all over. It's not confined to the gut. I've known guys with huge guts and bird legs who still wore size 34 jeans. Fuckin' freaks.
I applaud you for taking the high road in your response and not going the my-dick-is-just-that-huge route.
Corporal_Hicks wrote:Weird Al. He is back on his game.
It's impressive how that man doesn't seem to have aged in the last 20 years.
He is mustacheless now which takes some getting used to for me, but also makes me wonder if he isn't hiding the grey a little bit. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
Are you guys moving into some gangland area of St. Louis, Thursty? Are you gonna have to be the guy who picks up a bat and teaches the neighborhood big man and his cronies, who hold the nice, feeble members of this tiny community in terror, that some people aren't gonna take it anymore? That there are still good people who care about their downtrodden neighbors, and who aren't afraid to stand up for what they believe in?
Djack Zteelecock wrote:Are you guys moving into some gangland area of St. Louis, Thursty? Are you gonna have to be the guy who picks up a bat and teaches the neighborhood big man and his cronies, who hold the nice, feeble members of this tiny community in terror, that some people aren't gonna take it anymore? That there are still good people who care about their downtrodden neighbors, and who aren't afraid to stand up for what they believe in?
He's going to be Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino.
We were able to gather that the death was due either to accident or negligence. We were also able to gather that people associated with the deceased were relatives of the person who lives above us. We overheard that "it'll be eight to ten weeks" before they "know anything." We figured they were talking about autopsy results. We also saw the most violent of the weepers launch himself off the porch and over a bush when another guy showed up. The intent of the most violent of the weepers was either to do bodily harm or give people the impression this was his intent.
The other guy said he wasn't there to "start anything," and was there, instead, to "apologize and show support."
It's likely that the most violent of the weepers was the father of the deceased. If the deceased turns out to be a young child, it's probably the case that the kid was in the other guy's charge when the kid was found dead.
When we first drove up, we heard the most violent of the weepers say, "He's fucking dead!" We had no context for this at first. We weren't sure if he was talking about the deceased or issuing a threat to an absent party. Once the other guy showed up, we came to the conclusion that the latter was the more probable case.
These days, whenever I hear of a child near Jubboiter's age dying, my mind goes to some pretty dark places. I ask myself how I would react to it. I'm never able to answer myself.
The guy a couple houses down from me stopped pruning his hedge on one of my trips from the place to the car and back and addressed me. He asked me if I knew what was going on. I told him it was clear somebody was dead and that I could only offer guesswork beyond that. He said, "Nothing like this ever happens around here."
The Swollen Goiter of God wrote:He said, "Nothing like this ever happens around here."
He seems to be misinformed. Anyhoo, it might be a good idea to start thinkin' up excuses in the unlikely event that "just there to show support" guy ever happens to be the only person available to babysit Jubboiter. Possibly, "I'd like my child to survive the weekend, Mr. Baby-Killer," or maybe just, "No. Oh God, no."
Mal Shot First wrote:He's going to be Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino.
I can't see that. I don't remember the movie too well, except that Clint was a surly old racist who then inexplicably warmed to all of his poorly acted foreign neighbors. Then he went a-killin'. Maybe. I don't really remember the end, except it was pretty trite, and Clint took the night train to the big adios. I imagine tough-guy Thursty to be more like Ogre/that-guy-from-'Bloodsport'. He'd have sort of a goofy charm to him as he was taking down the bad guys.
Still don't know the location (I will be getting phone calls today - but it is possible I will be at a big university research lab) or whether I'm technically starting out as a full-time apprentice (still a pay upgrade from this past year), but once those little details like where we are moving to are worked out, I'll probably announce it on Facebook. (No more annoying "do you have a job yet?" questions! though Goiter will still get them from his grandma. I could make 6 figures, and she would still ask that. Penis.)
