bank teller, tee me off why dont you

i woke up later then i should i have today, most likely as a result of residuals from chemicals i had put into myself the day before, and decided that in the hours before work i needed to go to the bank, run and eat. first thing first, i decided to go to the bank, and with my cow-licks still in tact hobbled out of the shit shack of my house, tapping the walls as i exited to let the rats know whose boss.
and im in my car driving.
after a couple of lazy lane changes i make it to the bank, and what aught to be the highlight of my day, the deposit of two modest checks into my savings account (the reserves of which will now most certainly be relegated towards a new computer (see previous blog)), turns into a big pain in my ass. I send my two checks along with my bank card and vintage ID through the wonder tube, only to have the two checks (not my license and bank card) sent back to me via space tunnel, with the teller on the other line to ask me this:
teller: excuse me mr. culver can you sign the back of these checks with a signature as it looks on your drivers license
me: well i signed my name to that license about 7 years ago, and for the last 6 years have been signing my name as you see it on the back of my checks
teller: well we've had some problem with fraud on checks, so i'm going to need you to try.

so in what seemed a total foreign act/experience i tried to imagine what my signature looked like on my license (since the jackass kept it) and then, again, made a mark that looked nothing like my name let alone english script. As i stared at the pathetic scrawl my pen had just defecated (it should also be noted that the two "repeat" signatures looked nothing alike), i had momentary flashbacks to my early elementary days of berated penmanship, and those teachers who would get some smug sick pleasure using as an example for the classa sheet of my cursive practice as "how not to write"

any how, i sent the two notably less authentic signature signed checks back to the teller, and as i waited for a response began to imagine the epic that lied ahead. i'd have to go into the bank, and show other forms of I.D., be patronized by some bank employee much as i was in grade school about how "i really aught to work on my penmanship", be late to work, not go on a run, buy a jimmy johns sub for dinner bc i was to lazy to pack, reget the fact that i bought one of these damn sandwhichs at least twice a week bc i was too lazy to make one before work. and then

teller: thanks Mr. Culver, have a great day
me: yeah you too

thick and juicy (although i cant afford red meat)

well here i am again, in my lab chair, another day, and today the computer has some sort of drag to it, so that when i type to fast for this piece of fuck shit, it just cant keep up. You know when you want to delete something and its going slow so you attack the delete button like the trigger of a maching gun, only to over slame it 20 too many times, and delete most of what you had written. yeah its one of those days. what a piece of garbage.
Not unlike the computer i have at home, she finally bit the dust a few nights back. I've had a real bad virus on there for sometime, and being a cheap ass i neglected to update my norton anti-bullshit sometime back, and last i checked there were 45 unwanted yata-ya's on my computer. (so this pop-up message continually reminded me, which i contiually downsized, and we would dance that dance every 30 seconds or so that i was on my computer). But now i cant even play that game any more with that ol' sticker covered vaccum child, the virus('s) got her bad. here's how it happened.
so when i tried to use my computer a few nights back, i realized that the "left clicker" of the multiple mouses built into my computer failed to work. They simply did not do anything when held over an icon and triggered. Same clicking noise but nothing happened. I of course tried the time tested dummies method for fixing something broken, turning the computer on and off again hopeing for a new result. but not this time. it was fucked. I then tried navagating the machine utalizing only the right clicker, but that came with a entirely new and fucked up set of problems, and it was ultimatly an impossible task.
so i closed my lab top for what will be, for all intents and purposes, its last time.
it still bears the climbing stickers i adorned it with years back, when i thought that was cool.
when i thought i was a climber
it somehow retains the repair sticker that marks my last name in someone elses script, a token note from its repair in St Louis.
its cigarette wounds from the coop, and broken "t" key are things i no longer half to deal with.
that computer had been with me for five years now. it passed that time with me.

so here i am now, at the helm of another dying machine, typing my delayed words, trying to recreate memories.

throwing in the towel

i've decided it may be time to throw in the towel at blogging

to be honest its just not for me

will i change my mind and return? maybe

maybe i'll blog again on tuesday, who knows

for now i'm done

chud

chud, a word i learned yesterday from a friend of mine, used in the skateboarding community to refer to bits of crap or detritus on the ground.  chud and blog seem to make sense together

whenever someone posts something thats lame, i'm callin' "blog chud" on their ass

tee me off, will ya

things that tee me off-

  everyday i plan on mentioning a few things that "tee me off"

  they may be something messed up in the lab, an observation from my daily going abouts, or just something i want to say, you know what i meen, its a blog

blog

its come to that point in my life where I'm going to try my hand at blogging.  I work in a photo lab from 2-10 tuesday's and thursday's and it is during those times i plan to make the majority of my posts.

a bi-weekly eight hour session in the life of a photo-lab proctor

hold on to your saddle bags, this shits real