Not Those, I Want the Furry Kind.

Here we are, the Eve of the year. I figure I'd better put an update online as the last entry of 2007 before I head out to partake in some new years festivities, although this year I'm going to be keeping it tame. I came down with a bug a few days ago, and I figure that alcohol won't help the situation. Nothing but orange juice for this cat.

Speaking of cats, I had a rather disturbing thought (to me at least) last week. I was thinking that it was possible that Loki could have gotten knocked up while she was wandering the great wide open before I got her. I really don't need a litter of kittens running around my house destroying everything. But as with everything, sometimes life is quirky. Turns out Loki isn't pregnant. How do I know? Well, I know have a cat strolling around my house howling perpetually. She decided that it would be a good time to go into heat. It did answer the question of whether or not she was spayed though. Nonetheless she is going into the vet in early January to get that problem taken care of. I've had other cats before that I haven't gotten fixed, but none with the vocabulary of this cat. She seems to think that there is some male tom hanging around somewhere and insists on talking to him non-stop. Everything she looks at is worth talking to. Her current favorite conversation partner is the fish in my aquarium. She's a little dense sometimes.

This, of course, let to another of those unconventional thought processes that seem to bubble up through my conscious. What if people acted like cats when they were in heat? You'd get people walking around with their butt stuck out talking to everyone in sight trying to get some. Wait a sec, that sounds like an average night club around here. Maybe not to the extreme of a cat in heat, but somewhere close. Of course, it could be easier if it was like that. People all pimped out walking around with a drink in their hand saying "Fuck me? Fuck me?" Think how much easier that would be, no awkward conversation, no worrying about what line to use, no uncomfortable figuring out how to approach that person across the bar. Just those two words and you'd be off to the races. Maybe in Amsterdam, but I doubt it would work here. Kinda takes the fun out of the chase, but as I like to say, any port in a storm.

Well, that's about it. I got a party to get to before I start getting emails about where I am. Cya in 2007 folks.

"An optimist stays up to see the New Year in. A pessimist waits to make sure the old one leaves." - Bill Vaughan

The Unmitigated Stink of the Centuries

This title has absolutely nothing to do with this entry. It was just a cool line from a TV series I've gotten hooked on. It's a show from the UK about the worst jobs in history. Definitely something to watch when you think your job sucks. It really makes you grateful for what you do compared to what you could be doing.

This past Friday was the annual Xmas party for work. Although it wasn't monumental or memorable as last years, it still rates fairly high on the fun list. Of course I was pretty much piss drunk by dessert, but that's just about par for the course in Moloquin's rules of good partying. Luckily there were lots of other people following the same rules so there was a large group of us all pissed and dancing to songs we would never dance to if sober. God, you have to love the benefits of alcohol. Luckily there was really no nasty incidents this year, but that was probably due to the lack of a sufficient torch bearer this year. I think we all spread it over a group of us rather than appoint one poor sod.

In an effort to keep the embarrassing stories to a minimum, I'll keep this short. I'm not above telling embarrassing stories about myself, but I'm not sure other folks want me exposing their drunken behavior to the world. Let's put it this way. There were many asses grabbed at inappropriate times, many inappropriate comments towards those of the opposite (and sometimes the same) sex, and a certain reverend who decided this would be a great occasion to show off some hardware. Probably not the wisest decision he's ever made, but it has almost become expected at various parties that he attends (and don't worry, the aforementioned hardware is allowed to be displayed in public without getting arrested. Think above the equator people). Of course, it probably wouldn't have been on display as much if someone (who shall remain nameless) would have stopped unbuttoning his shirt. I mean, undressing a priest in public, that's got to be a crime isn't it? I sense a confession coming up soon from some one.

Many of you may have noticed I haven't written an entry about this years nutbucket drama. There are a couple of very valid reason for this. Firstly, I think I've written about the nutbuckets enough to get the point across, and secondly, I refused it this year. I was dead serious when I said I didn't want it. Imagine getting the same Xmas present every year for six years in a row. Nothing says thank you like getting the same present every year, even after people have expressed their indifference (if not their dislike) towards getting them. I could rant here forever, but I think it's simply better if I close the book on the nutbucket (for at least a year or so).

On the note of Xmas gifts, no one has gotten me the Xmas gift I'm longing for this year. Come on people, what's the hold up?

I have done my priestly duty this year and saved something. I'd like you all to meet the new addition to casa Moloquin.


In my true Danish heritage I've named her Loki (or Loke as the correct spelling dictates). Loki was the foster brother of Odin and is known as the trickster. It seemed fitting for her. She was destined for the pound, and since I hate seeing animals end up there, I took her in. Luckily for me she is probably the most well mannered cat I've ever had, and comes completely trained. She was obviously some one's pet that either ran away, or was turned away. For right now, she is just a guest in case her owner does come forward, but she's fitting in to her new life quite well. If her owner doesn't come forward she can live here. And, in case any of you are wondering, no, I don't want to save any more animals, so don't ask.

For those of you who relish in other peoples embarrassing moments, I'm sure someone will be posting pictures of this years party. I'll be sure to share the best (or worst, depending on how you look at it) here in some upcoming entry.

Now I suppose I should go find something for dinner. Any suggestions?

>>>>>>>

Two quick updates. Firstly, Loki scared the shit out of me tonight. Apparently she knows how to say hello. No, I'm not on crack. I was sitting in my office when I heard "Hello?" from downstairs 3 times in a row. It was close enough I had to go check it out...Maybe I don't have all the alcohol out of my system yet from Friday night, or I've been living by myself for too long. Any of the above scenarios are damn scary ideas.

Secondly, I just finished another song for my new album, but I'm not posting this one online right away. I made a couple of promises to people that they could hear any new tunes first before I publish them online. I can tell you it's called "Soulkiller" and it may be uploaded before Xmas, if I get off my ass and get it to the people I told I would.

>>>>>>>

I Didn't Order this $hit.

(RANT MODE=ON) Ok, I don't do this that often...ok, maybe I do but I don't care. I have to vent. Because I am a part of a large company we get copies of Microsoft products earlier than the general public, and because of that, we received a copy of Windows Vista to check out. I decided to be the sacrificial lamb and put it on my machine to test and see how well it would be adopted by the general public (users) and I gotta say this. Windows Vista is a steaming pile of fetid shit. I mean rancid and hopelessly useless. To all you early adopters out there, stay the hell away. Nothing works right, programs don't install, drivers are all messed up, and it's slow as a 1972 lada.

Trust me on this one folks, stick with whatever you are running...Do Not put it on any machine you actually use because you will spend more time swearing and fixing it than working. Ok, I'm done. I just had to get that out. Rancid, foaming chunk of crap. (RANT MODE=OFF)

Damnit, Damnit, Damnit.



See, what did I tell you about your co-workers reading your blog?

At least K will be happy about it.

Guess What I Did All Weekend?

Last time I checked, spark plugs aren't supposed to look like this.





I don't get why people don't bring their cars in for service or service them on their own. True, it gives me something to do when I buy their cars, but do you really want to know why cars break down? Take a look at those spark plugs again That should tell you.

I Love It When a Plan Comes Together

What the hell did we do before the internet? I mean, there were encyclopedias, but it's not like you could write Funk & Wagnall when the info wasn't there you needed, but I digress. I'm leading the cart before the horse. Let’s start at the beginning.

It was the best of times; it was the worst...oh wait. Someone has used that already.

My (old) new car has been acting up lately. Making some weird noises and doing a strange choking thing when idling. I am, what you could loosely call, a gearhead. Even though the past few cars I've owned have been new, I really missed tinkering and fixing them myself, and because they were new from the dealers showroom, I wasn't allowed to mess around with them (at least if I wanted to keep my warrantee). One of the things I was looking forward to, and call me a masochist if you want, was the first breakdown of my car, just so I could fix it like in the good ole days. Well, I got my wish, and damned if it wasn't a doozy. It was one of those sporadic things that would never make the sound when I wanted it too, so I couldn't diagnose it, plus it was one of those generic "bad" car sounds that it could have been anything from a vacuum line coming loose, to a transmission that was going bad. Yesterday was the final straw. Up until now it was just annoying, but the check engine light came on (WARNING, WARNING, APPENDING DOOM APPROACHETH) and she stalled out while I was coming home from work.

That would be enough of this happy horseshit.

I replaced a couple of minor things that could have been causing it, and while the nasty howling sound was less, it was threatening to stall more often.

Could it be? I had lost my touch? Maybe it had been long enough that I couldn't work in an engine compartment anymore. The horror.

And thus, I checked the internet. Thank God for the internet. I found a forum that is just for my kind of sports car, and wouldn't you know it, this is a known problem with my year of car, and the fix is something I never would have thought of (before you say I've lost my touch, I'll just add that before someone figured this out there were many car owners doing return trips to dealerships to try and figure this one out...not what you call a common problem in cars). The fault lies in this silly little valve that controls the amount of air going to the engine when you are not accelerating.

Good news, the part is only about 100 bones and easy to put in. Bad news, no one stocks the friggen thing.

So I read on (horatio?) and notice someone has given instructions on how you can clean it out and get a couple of extra months of life outta the thing until you can track the part down. Sweet. A couple of scrapes, a few expletives, some carb cleaner in the eye, and my car is running better than the day I bought it.

Now, I just gotta work out how to explain how I was stupid enough to get carb cleaner in my eye, and figure out how to reset the silly little idiot light saying to fix my engine. (And to the peanut gallery out there, I already pulled battery offline and it still has it. See, I have still got the touch, or maybe I'm just touched).

Do I Really Need a Reason?

Xmas time is almost upon us again. I can tell because all the stores are playing xmas crap songs every time I go in to buy some food or shitter paper. Xmas carols to me are like nails on a chalkboard, or in the new improved moloquinized version, like sandpaper on my eyelids. Whenever I hear those staples of years gone by pouring down onto me like acid dripping out of a shitty 5 watt speaker mounted in 1973 (to pick a year at random), I usually find myself gritting my teeth and telling myself not to get mad and do whatever it was that got me in the asylum the first time.

Whew. Run on sentence mania. Where are those pills.

Anyways, I've discovered a very unique combination of things to really get those Walmart (c) employees all riled up. As the canned Christmas cheer pours down onto them from above like fairies pissing from on high, make sure to ask them when they are getting their next shipment of Nintendo Wii's in. They like this question. They only hear it about 300 times a day, so they are more than happy to answer any questions you have. To add insult to injury, go into great details about how this in no way shape or form will match up to, or surpass, your old 8-bit NES. Go into great technical detail about why the Wii suxors compared to the NES and how the original cartridge based system was the way to go. After boring the poor employee to tears, say ok. Then ask them if they have any Playstation 3's. Lather, rinse, repeat, always repeat. That is how you win new friends. Trust me. They'll like you lots.

Did I mention that I have a Wii? Props to all you haters out there. Tee hee hee. And it is as good as you've heard, but not nearly as good as my NES...

On another note, I know what I want for Xmas this year. It was on my list from last year as well, but I didn't get it, so I figured that I'll only ask for this one thing so it's gotta come through. Well, that's the plan anyways. So here we go. This is what I want.



Now, who's going to get it for me? Come on. Someone has got to come through for me. Please? I'm asking really nice.

What I don't want is one of these.



Seriously. I'm growing a fricken shell here. Let this be a lesson to you. Learn from the Rev. If you keep a blog, and someone(s) from where you work reads it, make sure you don't bitch about the corporate Xmas gift; because you can be sure that they will force feed it to you.

Seriously. Someone get me that gift, and not the nutbucket damnit. You don't even have to wrap it.

Quick and Dirty entry. Just how I like it.