When I started the MB back in 2000, my original intent was to showcase my resume and minuscule design portfolio. I had just made the transition from print design to web design and thought the purchase of the domain name would motivate me to learn more about designing and maintaining websites. It did.

In 2002, the MB transitioned from a professional showcase to a personal one. I started posting about all manner of nonsense, because, in case you have not realized by now, I have a lot to say about a lot of shit. In 2002 there was no Facebook. No Twitter. No MySpace. No news feeds. It actually took some doing to track down links and write about them. I was happy to do this because my job was mind-numbing and management at the data slaughterhouse had no idea what the hell I was up to. Soon, links, emails and IMs started flooding in from the likes of Jake, Michael, DJ, Kaye, Monica, CH, Gay Joe and Mark. Boredom loves company? I was happy to be posting regularly as it fueled my passion for creativity in ways that my career was not.

Enter Broz Design in November 2008 and my posting to the MB fizzling out. Maybe its because I am fulfilled professionally? Or because I would rather hang out with my kid than waste my time posting about a guy that got fucked to death by a horse? Or maybe it is time to take the MB into a new direction? I go with the latter. I have always dreamed about writing the Great American Novel but am no closer to that goal than I was last year. My New Years resolution for 2010 is to start using the MB to focus more on actually writing a book and get some ideas out into the ether. It may not lead to anything other than me doing what I have been wanting to do for some time and that is fine. It is not like you want to read about a horse fucking a guy to death, anyway. Right?

Labels: /mark, broz design, career, data slaughterhouse, dj, gay joe, jake, kaye, matt brozovich, mons, perversion, technology, tomfoolery

Jake's post got my juices flowing regarding my "career." While I am overjoyed I no longer have to answer questions like "Where do you see yourself in five years?" in employment reviews to people who have no right to judge my design abilities in the first place, I will play along with the question for just this post.

So, where do I want to be five years from now?

Simple; still walking the path of fulfillment. I want to be able to choose the work I want to take on. I want to understand the direct correlation between cause and effect. I want to be a single point of failure. I want my clients to be happy with the work I have done for them and be successful because of it. In short, I want to be exactly where I am today. Whether it be designing websites or writing the Great American Novel or shoveling mule shit. For the first time in my life I can say I am satisfied. I am satisfied without being rich, having a really bitchin' car or a loveless house in some wasteland suburb. I think that is the definition of success.

Labels: broz design, career, jake

My response to the well-compiled Tomato Nation 25 and Over list:

1. Remember to write thank-you notes. The written word is a lost art and most youngsters under age 25 think texting 'THX PLAYA' does the trick. Taking the time to send off a stamped, hand-written note (especially after a job interview) shows that you are considerate and not a serial killer.
2. Do not invite yourself to stay with friends when you travel anymore. Being as I have a deep aversion to inconvenience (both for myself and those around me), this has never been a problem for me. I would much rather crash at a hotel even if family/friends are close by.
3. Do not expect friends to help you move anymore. I only expect my friends to help me move things if they stayed at my house due to a bout of excessive drinking the night before. Asking someone to help you move a roll-top desk with a crippling hangover should not be an issue if said someone yacked in your sink twelve hours earlier.
4. Develop a physical awareness of your surroundings. I pride myself on assessing my surroundings and acting accordingly. Alcohol often kills this one for me.
   
5. Be on time. I generally show up on time to most events. If I am late to anything longer than thirty minutes, I will blame my infant child who cannot speak.
6. Have enough money. Nothing pisses me off more than somebody who never brings money out in card or cash from. You did not leave your wallet at home. You are just a cheap bastard.
   
7. Know how to calculate the tip. It is not difficult to multiply the bill by two to get the 20% tip equivalent. If you do not have the mental capacity to calculate a tip without the aid of a calculator or cell phone, eating out is probably the least of your worries.
8. Do not share the crazy dream you had last night with anyone but your mental wellness professional. Depends on what the dream is about and what your intentions are by sharing said dream. A sex dream with the intention of getting yourself laid? Absolutely. Murdering all you co-workers with a machine gun during a casual Friday with the intention of getting a raise? Probably not.
   
9. Learn to walk in heels. Only applies to me if I patronize an East German sex club.
10. Have at least one good dress-up outfit. Before the wife cleaned me up, taught me how to dress and expanded my wardrobe, I owned only one suit at the behest of my mother. It was my all-purpose suit that saw many weddings, funerals and job interviews. I could sometimes tell the last time I wore it by reaching in the inner-coat pocket and finding an old event program.
11. Do as invitations ask you. I am usually not formally invited to anything and if I am the wife handles all the RSVP-ing and gifting. It is better this way.
    
12. Know how. Sadly I think most people 25 and under grew up with every convenience afforded to them and would perish in the wilderness after being given a knife and a water source. Problem solving is lost on a generation that did not have to solve any problems because their parents were afraid if they failed it would crush there delicate sensibilities. I like to think I know enough about enough to be dangerous.
    
13. Don't use your friends. This should be on an age 5 and over list. You should never use your friends unless they have an awesome surround-sound system.
    
14. Have something to talk about besides college or your job. As the many people in my life can attest, I have plenty to talk about besides college and my job.
15. Give and receive favors graciously. As my Dad said while scolding me after an excessive sports celebration in my youth, "Act like you have been there before."
16. Drinking until you throw up is no longer properly a point of pride. It depends on how good the scotch is.
17. Have a real trash receptacle, real Kleenex, and, if you smoke, a real ashtray. Toilet paper serves multiple purposes (in my opinion); nose blowing and ass-wiping. If you smoke? You will be dead before me. That and you should properly dispose of your butts. My yard is not that place.
    
18. Universal quiet hours do in fact apply to you. Working from home I keep weird hours and I keep the volume down during the quiet hours without even realizing it.
19. Take care of yourself. Workout a few times. Take a shower every other day. Do not eat Taco Bell three times a week. Repeat.
20. Rudeness is not a signifier of your importance. It is when you are from California.
    

Labels: career, dad, drinking, family, gluttony, sex, stupidity, wife

Articles like this make me happy I committed to Broz Design last November. From a guy who has been laid off and fired more than most, I can tell you that offering to cut your own salary will do little other than show your employer you have no pride left. If anything, it makes you look desperate and afraid.

I take more risks with my income than most. There is no guarantee when my next pay check will arrive. My retainer clients may decide to cut losses and liquidate their contracts tomorrow. Yet in spite of all this, I am happier than I have ever been professionally. I have always refused (sometimes at my own peril) to justify to anyone why my skills and abilities are indispensable. If my work did not speak for itself or it went about unnoticed, than I do not want to work for you.

My employment missteps have led me to where I am today. I am flourishing. I do not have to wear pants to work. I am making enough money to keep diapers on the boy. I would rather fail on my own that be somebody's puppet. I do not like anyone's hand up my ass, be it metaphorically or literally.

Labels: broz design, career, l-i-v-i-n, pants-free, the boy

This past year has been rife with big happenings including planting a spawn in my wife's womb and career upheaval. My mentor once said, "The best way to learn on how not to do things is by being around people who consistently fail and learning from their mistakes." My former mentor was once fired from a job for looking at porn on his work computer, but that is neither here nor there. The point is he is right. I have a solid understanding on what not to do professionally provided by a bevy of past employers. I have great examples of unsuccessful parenting skills thanks to former friends and coworkers (i.e. buying your kids beer only if they "drink it at the house" does not keep them "safe"). I am hopeful I have learned enough from these bad examples to forge onward and do the right thing. If I have not learned enough, I look forward to an illustrious career as a bartender and snorting cocaine with my kids.

Labels: babies, bad parents, career, drugs, porn, wife

• My pregnant wife has not taken her crazy hormonal levels out on me. Yet.
• My pregnant wife and unborn child are in good health.
• The 20 stupidest GI Joe vehicles ever.
  
• I am living the pants-free dream again and no longer working in Design Purgatory.
• My lower back is no longer destroyed.
• Learning about this before the wife dragged me to see Twilight tonight (yes, the crowd was rife with loser-tastic Emo kids. And for the love of God, Edward, just turn Bella into a vampire).
  
• Rachel Ray and Ann Coulter with be silenced through the month of December.

Labels: babies, career, health, injury, movies, pants-free, pop culture, thanksgiving, wife

Last Monday my boss and I had a Come-To-Jesus chat regarding my complete lack of enthusiasm for my current position. While I informed him my lack of passion did not hinder me from going through the motions (just ask my ex-girlfriend She Who Will Not Be Named), I did acknowledge that I was completely burnt out. Many factors led to my burnout; frequent late paychecks, a complete lack of any tangible project process (i.e. massive undertakings were given one line explanations like "Client Center back-end development: 36 hours"), lack of established deadlines and milestones (other than early 2008 or late 2008), non-payment of contractors/vendors and a general malaise regarding client/vendor relationships. I was issued an ultimatum to decide by that Friday whether or not I wanted to stay with the company. When Friday rolled around, I quit, packed up all my shit and went over to DJ's house to get drunk and play poker (in a rare Ex-Data Slaughterhouse Employees Game victory, I took home $60). After a tumultuous career path over the past three years, I am finally growing some balls and committing full-time to Broz Design. I have already nabbed two and a half retainer clients (the other half happening once I get off my ass and draw up a contract) that will pay me more all while working less and living the pants-free dream. My pregnant wife is thankfully awesome and supportive of my pursuits and deserves a new Lexus once I start rolling in the dough. It is either that or we will be selling our unborn child on the Mexican black market to make ends meet. Wish me luck either way.

Labels: babies, broz design, career, data slaughterhouse, dj, drinking, pants-free, poker, she who, taxi dev, wife

As my seed festers in my wife's baby maker, I have been laying awake at nights and pondering life's important questions. Will I turn into the cold, unforgiving man my father was growing up when my unborn child arrives? Will I be able to afford diapers and a college fund? Will the wife and I stay happily married with the added stress of a newborn baby? Could DJ and I get away with beating Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt to death? I keep coming back to one nagging query; do I hate my job or do I hate my career? While I acknowledge I do not have the worst professional life by a long shot (I could be languishing in data sales, for example), I cannot say that I am satisfied with where I am currently at career-wise (nor, for that matter, have I ever been satisfied). I love what I do but I am finally acknowledging that I am running on creative fumes. A new job may be the answer. A full-time stab at freelance may be the answer. Writing the book I told myself I would write a long time ago may be the answer. In short; I am dealing with a lot of shit. Confucius once said "By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." F'in A, Confucius. F'in A.

Labels: babies, career, death, dj, feelings, l-i-v-i-n, pop culture, wife

Flying on 9/11 may not be the smartest thing I have ever done (then again neither was this. Or this. Or this), but, as the rabid Carolina Hurricanes fan sitting next to me on the plane said yesterday "If we do not fly on 9/11 then the fucking terrorists win." Preach on, guy who loves Rod Brind Amour, preach on (note to Perez: 'Canes fan was a former Philadelphia Flyers fan which almost made me stop talking to him until I asked him why he stopped rooting for the Flyers. His response, "Because my wife and I have been living in Raleigh for the past seven years and, well, fuck the Flyers"). Sitting in the CLT, here are some highlights from my recent business trip to North Carolina:

• North Carolina is green and lush. I mean really green and lush. I guess I am too used to the yellow-brown hue Colorado is covered in year-round. There are a plethora of pine tress in the greater Raleigh-Durham area, too. I was not aware the Carolinas were so friendly to the coniferous tree family.
• Various topics discussed with our client that was not related to his website: Carolina Panthers football, the point spread on the UNC-Rutgers game, Indian hotel investors, hairy pussy, bald pussy, Viagra and wine.
• Various topics discussed with our client related to his website that had nothing to do with design or development: their T1 connection.
• Various topics discussed with our client related to his website that had to do with design or development: none.
• I enjoyed a ridiculous meal at a five-star resort called Herons. I gorged myself on a tremendous meal of sea bass, hush puppies, numerous expensive glasses of wine and sweet potato pie.
• How many times our client's partner urged me to "beat my children with a strap" upon telling him that my wife was pregnant: 3.
• How many times our client's partner passed on the restaurant valet service even though it was free: 2.
• The next time I will be to invited fly to Raleigh and "talk about the website": 6 months.

Labels: 9/11, career, colorado, drinking, gluttony, hockey, perez, perversion, sports, travels, vajayjay

Kaye: Where are you working from today?
Me: A coffee shop in Boulder. I am meeting with a vendor this morning and he chose this joint.
Kaye: Nice.
Me: I cannot wait to be an old man at a coffee shop. These codgers are sitting next to me
and have been talking about the weather for the past hour.
Kaye: With their newspapers and their sweater vests?
Me: Well it is Boulder, so gray beards, flannel shirts...
Kaye: ...and some LL Bean khaki pants?
Me: Right. And instead of a regular newspaper they are reading an alternative paper. Something that bashes Republicans and the "establishment."
Kaye: God. Old Boulder dudes.
Me: They are not even cool old dudes wearing a Fedora, walking all slow and talking about losing their buddies during the WW-deuce.
Kaye: Ha! They are just old Hippies. The worst kind of Hippy.
Me: Yes. Because they are old enough to know that their peace-loving, cheeba-smoking rhetoric does not work anymore.
Kaye: Totally. You know what looks good on a Hippy?
Me: Blood?
Kaye: No. Fire.
Me: Even better.

Labels: boulder, career, coffee, colorado, im convos, kaye

While on a conference call with a client who spent the majority of the time figuring out an easy content management system who dropped the following phrase numerous times, "Okay. Hold on just a second ...5 minutes of silence... Ohhhhhhhhhhh. That is easy!" I was left with time to ponder important Art Director decisions. Decisions like who the hottest bitches of 2008 are. According to Maxim, it is Sports Illustrated Swimsuit cover model Marissa Miller. Well played, Maxim. I do, however, have to take exception with your placement of Britney at 19. Seriously? 19? Did you not look at this before making your list? FHM gave the hot chick medal of honor to Megan Fox. Even though Jake is gay and has no love for her, she is slutty delicious and I look forward to seeing her rack in more overly-hyped, big budgeted, acting-anemic Michael Bay joints. Then there are the lesbians. Apparently they are all about Tina Fey. Look, I get it. She is smart, cute, has that trashy librarian vibe and is funny on 30 Rock. But number 1? You disappoint me, lesbians. Her face scar alone should drop her out of the top ten (strictly from a comparison standpoint). Lastly, I take extreme exception with Gwen Stefani not being mentioned on any of these lists (and I know from personal experience that the lesbians love Gwen Stefani). Please review this Maxim, FHM and lesbians. That is all.

Labels: boobs, career, chicks, jake, lesbians, pop culture, swimsuit issue, taxi dev

Web Designer: God. That site looks like clown puke.
Me: Totally. And not the good kind of clown puke.
Web Designer: There is a good kind of clown puke?
Me: Sure. Like when you punch a clown in the stomach so hard that it makes him vomit? That is the good kind. It is even better when you get some blood mixed in there.
Web Designer: I am happy that you are my boss.

Labels: career, im convos, taxi dev, tomfoolery

Is 32 old? Hardly. But to the whippersnappers I work with who are fresh out of college, I am a year or two away from being put in a home. I find myself having to explain the pop culture references that dot my vernacular in great detail and ramble on about the days before "the MySpace" and "the texting." Yesterday my web designer (who is well-rounded musically) nearly killed me by asking, "Who is NWA?" This morning, our project manager came strolling in with a new haircut and sporting a Tam O'Shanter so I quipped, "Look at you all on the Mary Tyler Moore tip. Are you going to throw your hat up in the air and twirl around for us?" I had to find The Mary Tyler Moore opening credits on YouTube just to illustrate how clever I was. I am sleepy. It is either time for bed or the early bird at the Sizzler.

Labels: age, career, taxi dev, tomfoolery

I have been hard pressed to find time to post to the MB recently as work has me busier than a Wall Street coke dealer in 1988. While working for a small company is a better place for me to exist professionally, socially and creatively, it also has its drawbacks. Like accountability and less free time to surf the internet for a directory of bare celebrity crotch shots. Last week's addition of a young, fire-balling web designer to the team should alleviate the current production logjam resulting in me getting home at a reasonable hour to conjure up a semi-witty post.

Labels: apathy, career, taxi dev

There is no better way to celebrate my birthday than by reading my favorite type of story; a big fat slob being extricated from his house by way of cutting through the side of it. In just a few short hours my coworkers will be treating me to a sloppy plate of birthday tacos. Later this evening the wife will be making me a birthday dinner of "whatever my little heart desires." My little heart happens to desire pancakes, pumpkin pie and a glass of scotch. Here is hoping my thirty second year that will bring happiness, prosperity and employment stability. This tax season I am going to have more W-2s than a contract porn actor.

Labels: birthday, career, gluttony, tacos, wife

The rain falls softly on the metal roof. OJ is currently in jail for a B and E. I inhaled eight tacos and a bowl of green chili with Team Hofkamp during the Broncos game yesterday. Two homeless guys just walked by our office window with four shopping carts full of cans that were covered with assorted tarps and bungee cords yet neither were wearing a rain slicker or a poncho. I get free Brothers BBQ for lunch today. We just learned that one of our freelance designers is a con-artist and wanted for fraud. Pumpkin pie sounds delicious.

Labels: career, denver, funk, random, taxi dev

• Until the Intern becomes a full-time employee he shall be called a different female name every time he is addressed or is brought up in conversation.
  
• When the Intern comes strolling into the office all cocky with Starbucks in hand, he will be directed back out the door to fetch the Art Director a pumpkin spiced latte.
• When eating sandwiches in the conference room and the real employees want to talk about something important, the Intern will be directed to the vending machines in the building across the parking lot to fetch the CEO a Mountain Dew.
  
• When being instructed to "tighten" up a design and the Intern sarcastically quips, "How tight do you want it?" The following exchange will take place:
  "Tighter than a 13-year old Romanian gymnasts ass."
  "That is tight."
  "Fucking A right it is, Susie."

Labels: career, taxi dev

In case you have not noticed by the recent minimal posting, these past few months have been a blur of work and liquor. I have been pulling some long hours in order to catch our production schedule up to an acceptable level as well as drinking at a frat boy pace during an autumn social (a charity golf tournament this past Saturday had me knocking back Bloody Mary's at seven in the morning). Tonight our office park held an "official" open house rife with free hooch, gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches and pulled pork fajitas. We got the chance to chat up our neighbors who are mostly architects, photographers, creative types, tech junkies and one drug addict painter contracted to complete odd jobs until the end of the year. As I post this I am draining a glass of scotch and researching how to create a typing text effect in Flash. Welcome to my OCPD.

Labels: career, denver, liquor, taxi dev

1. Getting sent three emails for the same subject. The first email contains instructions that always refer to a missing attachment, the second email contains the attachment they forgot to attach in the first email and the third email contains another "final" attachment and instructions to disregard all previous emails.
2. Being invited to an all day WebEx meeting so I can "be observed" while I complete the site design. There is still twelve hours of work left to do.
3. Being told that a terrible stock image of two black people, an exotic looking female and a douchebag boy-band looking white guy was not "diverse enough."
4. Getting berated for development delays even though the client did not return emails or phone calls for three months.
5. Being told that "You are the artist. Surprise me!" immediately after being told, "I don't like surprises."

Labels: career, taxi dev

Tomorrow I start the new gig and I am wetter than a mating walrus with excitement. Much of my elation stems from the fact that my office is located in the titty-licous TAXI By Zeppelin Development. If Grandpa Broz were alive today he would be proud that I was bringing the Brozovich name back down to Globeville (from the 1930s through the 1970s, Globeville was the capitol of the Denver Slavic community and home to any handle ending in "vich" or "czk"). Being as my Great Uncle Al and Aunt Tillie still live in the old 'hood, I might just have to hit them up for a sandwich and a WWII or rail yard story one day for lunch.

Labels: career, denver, taxi dev

Friday, June 29. My daunting three-day trial on the unemployment line ended when I was offered an Art Director position immediately after a two-hour interview. I accepted the offer and start this Friday. The people seem great and of the non-douchebag variety, the pay is solid and my skill set should grow exponentially. That night our neighbors extended an impromptu invite "for a drink" over the fence. We ended up staying for six hours, helped drink their cooler dry, gorged ourselves on barbecue spare ribs and watched their 13-year-old daughter's recent European vacation slides.

Saturday, June 30. With the wives at a baby shower talking about their uteruses, I stuffed an amazing basket of fish and chips down my cake chute and drained numerous Coors Light pitchers at Clancys with CH, Tyler and Fateh. Aside from the poor patio location and a bad wait staff that included a red-haired meth skank that kept forgetting our orders and a chubby blond girl with a giant snake tattoo, good times were had by all. That night we ate a late sushi dinner and took in 1408 with Team Sutton. It was refreshing to watch a movie in a theater since we have not done so since the Korean War.

Sunday, July 1. The wife and I celebrated our one-year anniversary. We walked around our deserted wedding venue in the 100-degree heat sipping on blended coffee drinks, ate heaping plates of steamed mussels and took in back-to-back movies thanks to my criminal wife who snuck me into Ratatouille in the confusion of the exiting Rise Of The Silver Surfer crowd. It was refreshing to watch movies in a theater since we have not done so since Saturday, June 30, 2007.

Labels: career, drinking, sg crew, unemployment, weekend that was, wife

Yesterday I lost my job. The company founders called me into the office and broke the happy news. They brought up the following reasons for my termination:

• I came in late three times in past two months.
• I was expected to work more than eight hours every day.
• They felt they had to coddle me through their company policies and procedures.
• They had no confidence in me as a designer.

I addressed these points as follows:

• I was late three times but it was never more than ten minutes each time and I stayed well past 5:00 whenever this occurred. You would have known this if you did not leave at 5:15 everyday.
• If I had known the job required me to pull ten hour days (which I was never told) I would have not accepted it in the first place.
• I was never given any briefing on company policies, expectations or any formal or informal training. I recall my first day (which neither one of you even offered to take me to lunch on), I was thrust in front of a computer and told to, "Be an Art Director."
• I spent the past two months editing files and websites other people developed. I produced one original design. You hated it. The client loved it. Is that not how a designer measures success?

The corporate culture over at Gas Sack, Inc. (my new pet name for that fuck circus) was more oppressive than a concentration camp. Granted, nobody was getting shoved into an oven, but I have never witnessed employees operating under such intense fear; fear of making a mistake, fear of failure, fear of good design. I can recall only two times when I heard people laughing in the office. Two times. In two months. And both times the founders were gone for the day. The art on the walls even sucked. Oil maps of Texas, Arkansas, New Mexico and this. Which is appropriate for a homosexual ski lodge but not so much for an Investor Relations consulting firm.

So now I am back to firing off resumes (seven today), eating ketchup sandwiches and watching Judge Joe Brown and my wife is back to questioning why she married such an unemployable sack of shit.

Labels: career, unemployment

Nameless Coworker: You had three calls come in for you in the past ten minutes.
Me: Oh really?
Nameless Coworker: Yeah. Where were you?
Me: Even Art Directors have to take shits.
Nameless Coworker: Nice.

Labels: career, im convos, poop, tomfoolery

I just received a web change request from a woman named Kitty Pryde. I am planning to post the following to her Wikipedia page under "Powers and Abilities":

Additional to phasing through objects, being a computer genius and skilled in multiple martial art disciplines, Kitty also works as an administrative assistant for a nameless Canadian oil & gas company performing the heroic tasks of finalizing Power Point presentations, providing vector-based logos, approving ad copy and being the primary contact for all web edits.

Labels: career, comics, geekery, tomfoolery

This afternoon an awesome spring thunderstorm tore through downtown Denver and briefly turned the streets into a mess of gridlock and moisture (watching poor bastards drive through almost two feet of rushing water on 19th was the highlight of my day). Dig on these two shots of the affair. The event even caused stoppage in my hyper-laborious coworkers. Nature's wrath demands attention even from the most over-worked and under-sexed.

Labels: career, denver, downtown, rain

I am enjoying the new job and the downtown scene. Within a block of the office there are five coffee shops, four sandwich joints, a Chipotle, a flower vendor, a blind bum that likes to sing Isley Brothers tunes and the always lively 16th Street Mall. The mall is usually teaming with business executives connected to their ear piece cell phones like Lobot, statuesque women in six inch heels walking with mean swaggers, homeless panhandlers and disheveled, mentally ill crazies that yell and carry signs. The latter are by far the most entertaining. Yesterday a wild-eyed maniac sporting a wig that looked like a dumpster diving reward was walking down the mall with a sign that read "GESUS LOVES U." He nearly got ran over by a shuttle bus as he was thrusting said sign into the faces of a nice looking gentleman and his two younger daughters who were participating in Bring Your Child To Work Day. This morning as I was looping around the building to the parking garage, a filthy homeless drug addict was flashing a two-way sign on the corner which read "HILLARY IS FIDEL" on one side and "JFK SHOT MARILYN" on the other. It was comforting to learn that even homeless drug addicts hate Hillary.

Labels: 16th street mall, career, crazy, denver, downtown, homeless, politics

As I stare down the barrel of my new gig, I wax poetically at St. Mark's Uptown, two beers into the evening, going over existing projects with my soon-to-be former boss:

You killed the pants-free dream for me. I don't think it was intentional, but then again, my ex-girlfriend's observation of my inability to display emotion wasn't expressed to break us up but it broke us up nonetheless. Looming over me everyday was the "option" to throw my laptop in my bag and patronize some outdoor cafe with free WiFi and a young barista with firm breasts to serve me hot caffeinated drinks. Actual times I exercised this "option": zero. Looming over me everyday was the "option" to delegate work to competent contractors while I enjoyed an afternoon skiing down a powder filled slope or taking a lazy nap on the grass at a local park. Actual times I attempted to delegate work to contractors only to have the project blow up in my face and spend late nights correcting mistakes only amateurs make: too numerous to count. I spent my tenure working sixty hours weeks and cursing at my brand new iMac while my cute wife made muffins and brought me beers in the hopes I would cease yelling, "You filthy bitch!" at poorly coded sites. I was haunted by phone calls from clients whose projects were fucked before I came along and will stay fucked long after I am gone. Lesson learned. I need a place where I can leave incompetent contractors, pissed off clients with unrealistic deadlines and an apathetic boss. That place is called "the office" and not "home."

Labels: career, pants-free

The working from home experiment officially ends on April 24 as I have accepted an Art Director position for a consulting firm in downtown Denver for a ridiculous amount of money. I learned many things during the home office endeavor:

• When not physically interacting with society on a regular basis I will not change my shorts until I squat down to pick something up and smell the essence of my own ass.
• When not physically interacting with society on a regular basis I will not shower until I squat down to pick something up and smell the essence of my own ass.
• When Divorce Court is on I will not turn it off. Preach on, Judge Toler. Preach on.
• There are times in life when porn is your enemy.
• I do not hate society as much as once initially thought.
• Conference calls are just as worthless as face to face meetings.
• Clients cannot tell when you are calling them from the bathroom.
• Clients cannot tell when you are surfing your RSS feeds instead of taking notes.
• Clients will not take you seriously if your "team" consists of anyone from India or the Philippines.
• Total hours (per week) put in at an office job during a normal work week: 42. Total hours (per week) put in at a home office job during a normal work week: 55.
• Working from home is a lot like bedding a really hot girl and then finding out that she is a lousy lay; at first you cannot believe its happening to you and then you realize its just a means to an end.

Labels: career, denver, funk, pants-free, pop culture, porn, the fairways

The wife after seeing me in a hockey jersey, baggy shorts and catching the stink of cologne on me:

"Look at you, getting all dressed up for work."

The hockey jersey, baggy shorts and cologne are a modified version of the Italian Shower, which, in its truest essence, a monochromatic tracksuit, a drenching in Armani cologne and at least four pieces of gold jewelry (which must consist of a watch, a ring, a bracelet and a crucifix necklace). A more accurate description of my slovenliness is a cross between an Italian Shower and a Navy Bath; which is hand soap and sink water splashed about the armpits and genitals than liberally dried and a caked-on or over-sprayed deodorant application. Either way, it is time for me to take a shower.

Labels: career, funk, l-i-v-i-n, wife

Christmas came and went without much aplomb; spirits were imbibed, holiday cookies were devoured, presents were opened, kittens went bezerker rage on their stockings and cousins in from Baghdad with an affinity for strip clubs and Heineken's were entertained. The wife got me some new creative direction slippers to keep my feet warm while I command oversea subcontractors from afar and utilize new Apple products in the home office. It appears I will be getting screwed out of another work snow day tomorrow as the Kwanzaa Blizzard rolled into the metro area this afternoon to blanket the foot of snow not yet melted from the Hanukkah Blizzard.

Labels: blizzard, career, colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, xmas

One of the few things that sucks about working from home is you do not get a snow day unless the power goes out. I spent most of the Hanukkah Blizzard aftermath on the phone with my genial new boss going over job duties and procedures. Around lunch the wife and I went outside to dig my car out as the plow company packed a night's worth of snow in front of the community parking area. At dusk we strapped on our snowshoes and went for a trek around Lake Arbor Golf Course. It was a beautiful evening of breaking trail and assuaging cabin fever. Now we are hunkering down for a night of terrible 80s movies (Cocktail is on as I post this), a blasting furnace and Amaretto eggnogs.

Labels: blizzard, career, colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, the fairways

Today, in the midst of Hanukkah Blizzard, I accepted a Creative Director position with a small design firm in Denver. I will be able to maintain the pants-free lifestyle I have grown accustomed over these past months, as my office will be in my home. I will occasionally venture out for a cup of coffee or a sandwich and maintain connectivity with the world via all form of modern technological accoutrement (cell phone, computer, IM, email, carrier pigeon). Other than that, society is officially dead to me. This career path is free of company-wide circle jerks with CEOs who receive Xmas cards from unemployed designers that lie about profits, revenues and layoffs. Once the roads are deemed safe by the governor again, I will be rolling up to the Apple Store to drop some coin on a new iMac and MacBook. Final unemployment statistics: 101 resumes sent and nine interviews all spanning three months, one week and one day.

Labels: blizzard, career, colorado, pants-free, snow, technology, unemployment, xmas

In the past two weeks, my former employer's chief technologist accepted a job offer in Boulder and three members of the senior sales staff resigned (I am still firmly entrenched in the data slaughterhouse gossip circle). I shared anger, pain, jokes, laughs and bourbon with all four of these individuals and am happy to see them make it over the wall. A message to all my people still trapped on the inside: The owl hoots at night. The fat man is dancing with the briefcase. The bell tolls for thee. Vive la Resistance!

Labels: boulder, career, data slaughterhouse, unemployment

The employment search has officially become stagnant. I just sent resume number 75 since Broz's Day of Liberation (September 12) and I am now seeing jobs that I applied to in early September re-post on the job sites I troll daily like a ravenous jackal. With the oncoming holiday season, it is a likely possibility that I will not have procured gainful employment until the Christian New Year. This reality is crushing as I have the Colorado Pass and may have to spend the winter work week on powder-filled ski slopes while avoiding the weekend warrior, latte-swilling transplant yuppie in an overpriced SUV jamming up the I-70 corridor and harboring the delusion that they can ski expert terrain and the term "yield to the downhill skier" does not apply to them. I do have a few freelance gigs in the hopper that should keep the lights on and the wife and I off of dog food for the time being. Unemployment has me contemplating many things; geographic relocation, getting my masters degree in eMAD, attempting to make a committed run at the freelance thing, writing the great American novel and designing a fetish site with Russian women in casts. Of course, somebody has already beaten me to the fetish site.

Labels: career, colorado, unemployment

After watching a provocative commercial during an episode of Judge Mathis, I am now contemplating a career in Medical and Insurance Billing. According to the real-life testimonial, the pay is decent, I can live the life I want and I will be joining the fast-paced world of health care. Advanced data entry rules! Stay tuned tomorrow when I will be debating a career in the fast-growing field of Aircraft and Aerospace Technical Maintenance.

Labels: career, tomfoolery, unemployment

I heard back from both companies I interviewed with last week. Company #1, located in Downtown Denver, gave me the "I just want to be friends" routine via email. Classy move. Maybe you should hire my ex-girlfriend She Who Will Not Be Named, Company #1. Like you, she is a cold-hearted bitch with no regard for social etiquette and would thrive within your corporate culture. Company #2, located near the Governors Mansion, offered me the position and I turned it down. Sure, it would be nice to start working again and sock away my severance booty towards a Mexican holiday with the wife, but something told me to stay away from that place. Perhaps it was the HR lady wearing sneakers, the invasive personal questions regarding my values or the "We do not use Macs" line that turned me off. All I know is that I ignored my instincts far too long while languishing at the data slaughterhouse and I refuse to ever do that again. In more interesting news, a neighboring town home burned down a few days ago. It appears as if the firewall did its job and kept the whole unit from succumbing to the flames. Good times.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, denver, she who, unemployment, wife

My day of interviews was enjoyable and seemingly successful. In between trips in the car and long, boring dissertations on design and inspiration, I got the feeling both places seemed mildly interested in my abilities (one interviewer even inquired about where he could get a Your Mom hockey jersey). It is also just as likely that the interviewers tuned me out upon my first mention of "color schemes" and "corporate identity" and thought about the bills they had to pay and the puppies they had to strangle later. I feel really good about one of the companies that was not in Governors Park and hope they hire me before I have to turn my attractive new wife out for groceries.

Labels: career, unemployment, wife

My third week of unemployment will include two web design job interviews; one in the heart of downtown Denver which is a block off the 16th Street Mall and the city's main bus depot (I'm all about the public transportation) and one a few blocks away from Govnr's Park which has amazing happy hour beers and a Slider Basket that would make Wimpy cry (the Won Ton Juans are equally as glorious). Keep your fingers crossed that one of these interviews will pan out before my severance runs dry and we will be subsisting only on a meager public school teacher's income. The wife has yet to wear tattered clothing and babble incomprehensible phrases while standing over a barrel fire, but I can assure you that that time is nigh, my friends. Onto an unemployed artist's browser history:

• An anti-NCAA Hazing website where images of basketball chicks wearing blindfolds and sombreros while drinking from a beer bong and snorting things off the floor live.
• Nate Dogg makes a Wolverine costume for Halloween. Hijinks and homoerotic posing ensue.
• The unluckiest man alive.
• Wedding cake in the form of the Great A'Tuin.
• A guy who loves his Starbucks a little too much.
• Jimmy Dean chocolate chip pancakes and sausage; on a stick. I just threw up in my mouth a little.
• Colorado Avalanche season preview.

Labels: career, comics, drinking, food, geekery, hockey, link goodness, sports, unemployment, wife

Today I reached the "30 Resumes Sent" benchmark and I plan on celebrating by taking a nap immediately after posting this. Thus far I have heard back on six resumes and have a phone interview this afternoon with a company who's identity I will protect until I either get a job offer or am denied employment based on my affinity for the movie Road House. (On a related note, I ordered Road House 2: Last Call through Netflix and it will be arriving via mail tomorrow. I am hoping it has much of the same goodness as the first installment: mullets, fighting, boobs and a human throat being violently torn out with somebody's bare hands. I will be sure to keep you posted). All things considered, a 20% contact rate on my resumes is not bad. Granted, 80% of the 20% are "I just want to be friends" rejection emails (which hearkens me back to my freshman year of college) but that is not important right now. What is important is that I do not have to shave for a phone interview. The time is nigh for an unemployment nap. Have fun at work, suckers.

Labels: boobs, career, fighting, movies, pop culture, unemployment

Yesterday I was called into the CEO's office and was introduced to the Angel of Death (the Corporate HR Manager) and asked to sit down. I was informed that my position was being eliminated in a "10% workforce reduction." We then went over my severance information, COBRA benefits, standard employment reduction fare and I agreed to not take a flamethrower to the place. I was then escorted back to my cubicle to gather some personal effects. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief as I exited the building and proceeded to drive off for an expensive cup of gourmet coffee that tasted like dried Orangutan ass. I dialed up the wife, the parents, and a few of my "former" coworkers to tell them the news. I made it no secret that I was unsatisfied with the company and had been sending resumes off for sometime now. During five and half years I languished under the direction of multiple bosses, the workload of two designers, a culture shift from a tight-knit family towards a huge, worldwide mega-corporation, watched as good people with great ideas quit or got vilified and bad people with political agendas took over and unaffordable consultants shuffled in and out the door telling us what we already knew. I was blessed to work with some of the most awesome and genuine people I have ever known. A more complete collection of perverts, jackasses and alcoholics I have yet to come across and doubt I ever will again. I appreciate the excellent camaraderie (some days it was all that kept me going), the friendships that will endure long after the company closes its doors and the near uprising that was launched when my crew first learned of my fate. I wish those other unfortunate 10% well as their severance packages were not as healthy as mine and more akin to a smack in the face with a ballpene hammer. Where do I go from here? I have no clue. I plan on doing a lot of soul-searching, painting, reading, job hunting and reveling in the fact that I do not have to work at that fucking place anymore.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, l-i-v-i-n, unemployment

Even if I had days to reflect on a metaphor to describe my current career situation it would not be any better than this. Adrift in a small, fiberglass boat in the middle of the ocean with people that do not speak English and subsisting on nothing but rainwater, raw fish and seabirds with only the Bible to read? Yeah, that sounds about right.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse

I get lost again walking through the hotel/casino I'm staying at. Never trust Mexican food from a place that sells margaritas by the yard. Never trust old ladies that look like old catchers mitts and carry their cigarettes in sequined coin purses. A man lies passed out on his shoes in the bus shelter by the Bellagio. Past the flash and glitz of "Disneyland" lies north Las Vegas. The crooked past of the city is exposed. The further north I walk on the Strip, the faces look rough and mean. Missing teeth, chiseled age lines, hollow eyes and ruined dreams manifested in each countenance. It costs $30 to go to the top of the Stratosphere. That's Daddy's crap money. I turn south and head back down the Strip after I realize I may get robbed and stabbed. I snap pictures of things and a crack head emerges from the darkness behind a palm tree and quips, 'Take all the pictures you want, baby, they don't cost nuthin'.' A man lies passed out behind the bus shelter across the street from Frontier. I quell the urge to wake him up and tell him it would be more comfortable if he were sleeping on his shoes. Drunk fat girls drinking margaritas by the yard howl and ogle as men walk by. A punk in a Slayer shirt sings South of Heaven loudly in the middle of the street. I get propositioned by another black prostitute over the walkway between the MGM Grand and Tropicana. I hit the craps table thinking I'm White Chocolate. I lose $40 before the waitress brings me my first drink. On the walkway to the Luxor, a fat girl's ass hangs out of her mini-skirt. I'm leaving tomorrow only $39 down. The last thought that enters my head before I drift off to sleep: I AM White Chocolate.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, how design, travels, vegas

I'm in Sin City this week for the 2006 How Design Conference.

This town is a corporate dumpster. Drag queens on the corner ask me for spare change and menthol cigarettes. Children asleep in their strollers as parents walk them back to the hotel after blowing this month's mortgage payment on roulette. Mexicans peddle sex on the street corners that killed our best gangster poet. Ugly people pretend to be beautiful. Beautiful people pretend to be ugly. Underage frat boys watch the Bellagio fountains with a twelve pack of Corona. The well-manicured casino landscaping smells like vomit. A black prostitute propositions me. I say 'No thanks' and she calls me a racist. A man in a wheelchair races his friends on the Excalibur walkway and crashes into the glass doors at full rolling speed. I lose $39 at the craps table. Tomorrow I will get an In-N-Out Burger for lunch.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, how design, travels, vegas

Portland, Oregon is a gorgeous city resting on the banks of the Willamette and Columbia Rivers. If the future wife and I were looking to move there, I am certain I could find work with the local police department as a sketch artist.

Labels: career, tomfoolery, wife

I am in the midst of contemplating some major career decisions. These past six months have been the worst of my professional life and that includes my first year out of college when I was laid off twice and commuting fifty miles daily in a car with no air conditioning. Needless to say, I have been sending out resumes with the subtlety of a self-immolating Buddhist monk. I have started a morning ritual of meditating in my car before I go into the office to put myself in the right frame of mind. The ritual goes as such: I take a deep breath and think about starving children in Africa whose villages are torn apart by famine, disease and death. I take a deep breath and think about young female amputees scared for life by land mines and the memories of having sex with zealot soldiers consumed with hate just to survive a civil war. I take a deep breath and think about heroin addicts living on the streets who were born into unloving, drug infested homes where they were physically, sexually and mentally abused. Then I call myself a pussy, put my experience in perspective, sack up and go into the office dreaming of the day when I will finally get rid of that fucking car without air conditioning. Recent developments have me hopeful this will happen very soon. Now on to more important things; like Eastern European broads wrestling in their panties. Spoiler: The match is decided when the brunette puts the blond in a nasty head-scissor lock.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, drugs, perversion, war

Highlights from my past two weeks of travel (click here and here some hot Flickr action):

• At the HOW Design Conference, I learned some new tricks, saw some awesome design work and ate deep-dish pizza and drank numerous beers with friend/former coworker Michael. I cannot wait to get back to work with renewed creative enthusiasm only to have it crushed in a matter of seconds when I am given four pages of copy and told to "make it work" on a one-sided direct mail postcard.
  
• Caught a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. The future wife and I soon discovered that our alcohol tolerance is much higher in the Midwest that at altitude. I spent the entire game covered in sweat due to high humidity and a broken air conditioner on the El-Train ride out to the game that waspacked butts to nuts.
  
• Visited the Art institute of Chicago and saw some amazing work (Picasso, an orgy of impressionism) and some atrocious work (minimalism and American Gothic). Best quote while looking at the Georgia O'Keeffe collection: "She is very vaginal."
• The future wife and I took a beautiful sunset architectural tour of Chicago.
• Visited future in-laws in Eugene, Oregon. I found out that Eugene is almost identical to Boulder, minus the sex assaults, random rioting and the Flat Irons.
• Animal House was filmed at the University of Oregon so the future wife's cousin took us on the Animal House tour at U of O, showing us the infamous frat house (currently vacant) and the cafeteria where the food fight scene took place.
• Drove up the Oregon coast on Highway 101 that is incredible for scenery, shitty for traffic and great for fried seafood joints.
• Spent three days in Long Beach, Washington in the heart of Lewis and Clark Country. We did the tours of various Lewis and Clark outposts, forts and landings, learned that the proper pronunciation of Sacagawea is Sa-caca-we-ah and ate a cut of fresh fish the size of our heads in Oysterville, Washington.
• The closest I got to the ocean was dipping my feet in the 42-degree water. The oceans surrounding the Columbia River are some of the roughest and most treacherous in the world. Mix that in with the fact they are as cold as an Eskimo's vagina so swimming is not ideal (unless you are white trash parents laying out on towels "watching the kids play in the water" while smoking cigarettes).

Sidenote: After months of procrastination and toil, I finally got Broz Design up.

Labels: art, broz design, career, data slaughterhouse, how design, pop culture, sports, travels, vajayjay, wife

In a few short hours, I will be on a plane headed for Chicago and the 2005 HOW Design Conference. Once the conference concludes, the future wife and I will be hanging around the Windy City for a few days. We will be back in Denver next Thursday only to leave for Oregon the following Saturday to visit with our in-laws for the week. Posting will be minimal to none on the MB during this time. If you start going through withdrawals consider Jake, Boing Boing, /mark or Fleshbot your methadone. Especially Fleshbot. They have dirty pictures and stuff.

Labels: /mark, career, data slaughterhouse, denver, how design, jake, travels

Designer #1: I remember you telling me that you and your girlfriend are runners. Are you running any upcoming races?
Me: We are running the Bolder Boulder on Memorial Day.
Designer #2: Oh, I think I have heard of that.
Designer #3: How cool!
Me: It is a fun race. At the end you get to run around Folsom Field.
Designer #2: That's where CU plays their home football games, right?
Me: Yes. They added a feature this year where a group of college football recruits will be sexually assaulting a drunk and incapacitated 18 year-old girl on the fifty yard line.
Designer #1: Oh ... 10 seconds of silence ... So, did everyone enjoy the keynote speaker this morning?

Labels: boulder, career, colorado, how design, pop culture, sports

For the next two weeks I will be going on tour like a trashy hair metal band in 1988. Early tomorrow morning, my lady and I are off to San Diego where we will walk on the beach, eat fresh sea bass, patronize the new Padres stadium, visit the San Diego Zoo, watch a live donkey show in Tijuana and drink our body weight in margaritas. Sunday night, my lady flies back to Denver and I will stay in the OC for the 2004 How Design Conference. The HOW Design Conference lasts three days and I will be attending sessions, chilling with my old boss Michael and last year's partner in crime Scott from Minnesota (who won a free pass to the event and will be crashing in my room, assuring me he will not go all Fear and Loathing up in that bitch) and kicking it California gangsta style by the pool with chocolate honeys and bottles of Courvoisier.

After the HOW Design Conference wraps up, I will be catching an afternoon flight to Las Vegas where my good friends Kaye and Aaron will be getting married. I will be staying in Sin City for one night, winning big at various gaming tables and drinking free watered-down whiskey as I insult professional card dealers for giving me trash.

I arrive back in Denver Thursday evening, only to catch a plane to Boise, Idaho the following morning. In a state that is synonymous with potatoes and the white power movement, I will be attending my lady's grandfather's 95th birthday celebration.

On Sunday, May 23, I finally make my way home to Denver exhausted and battered from almost two weeks of traveling where I plan on crawling into my king size bed and sleeping until Armageddon.

Labels: boise, career, chili dog, data slaughterhouse, denver, how design, kaye, travels, vegas, wife

When they say: It is just not in the budget.
They mean: We have already tapped the keg dry by paying outside contractors too much in order to accomplish the work that could have been performed cheaper and faster by existing employees therefore any budget requests you submit for a $150 software upgrade will be dutifully ignored.

When they say: We appreciate all the hard work your doing around here.
They mean: Thanks for busting your ass, but we are not even considering you for a raise or promotion. Instead, we will placate you with promises of a raise or promotion and free soda and donuts in the break room.

When they say: We are making you the project lead.
They mean: Since none of us have the testicular fortitude to admit wrongdoing when mistakes are made, we are appointing you the head of this project so we have someone to blame when the shit hits the fan.

When they say: This is not a high priority.
They mean: I want you to drop everything your doing and focus on this until it is done.

When they say: You will have it tomorrow.
They mean: I have no intention of getting this to you until sometime later next month and when (or if) I finally do, you can expect me to drop this back onto your lap at the worst possible time.

When they say: We will all be putting in long hours on this one.
They mean: I will do as little at humanly possible on this project then take all the credit for it after you worked until midnight for a week straight getting it done.

When they say: Our company is growing.
They mean: We are going to take this bitch public and cash out our stock options before you have any idea what hit you.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse

The worst job I ever had was slinging furniture and boxes for a moving company in the dead of summer. The work was hot and shitty and the majority of my coworkers were drug addicts. Two guys actually smoked meth in the morning before their shift and called it coffee. It could have been worse, I suppose. At least I have no experience with elephant vasectomy.

Labels: career, drugs, science

Proof positive that some graphic designers go overboard with Photoshop.

Labels: art, career, geekery

It is my first day back in the office after the HOW Design Conference in New Orleanand I have over 100 emails to sift through. While I was gone, I missed a party at CH's house. This morning he shot me an email describing what went down:

Here's a funny story from the party on Saturday.

Juck took on the role of class drunk as we were wrapping up the trivia game. I had a tiebreaker where people had to hula-hoop and do shots at the same time. After the two teams failed at it (neither were Juck's team) he decided to try it, although he wasn't supposed to or required to. He failed miserably, and as the rather small hoop consistently fell, he tried picking it up and jumping through it like performing dogs do. That failed too. No one was amused, rather, they were scared. I was convinced his weight of jumping on my wood floor was going to knock some art off the walls. Finally, tired of trying, he returned towards his seat. He appeared to trip over a Coors Light box another team was using as a trash can. Full on like Chevy Chase, he fell into our table that was covered with plates of snacks, beers, chips, dips, etc. He landed against the edge of the table breaking the fall with his forearms. All of the aforementioned food went flying everywhere, people's beers spilled into their laps, and the dip onto our white rug. After that, everyone was cracking on him unmercifully. Keep in mind; this was the same Juck whose Pakistani roommate broke my coffee table at a party last year.

As the night wore on, he drank more. I found him on the back deck later in the night in a deep discussion with Spotty and a couple other guys about "If you could suck your own dick, would you?" Not surprisingly, he was very vulgar. Guys he had just met that night were very uncomfortable. He was also loud. Very loud. My new neighborhood has a lot of little kids (2-6 years old) in it. So I asked him to keep it down, and he yells at me, "Hey, it's not my fault you moved to fucking suburbia!"

Labels: career, ch, data slaughterhouse, drinking, how design, sg crew

I arrived back in Denver today safe and primarily sound. Aside from a wicked day-long drunk followed by a slow, mind-numbing hangover, I am in good spirits and had a great time. Last night I attended the finale party hosted by a paper company (I was too drunk to care which one) where conference goers were given free reign over a warehouse where the majority of the Mardi Gras parade floats are stored. In the midst of six foot paper-mache heads of jazz music legends, sports heroes and animals, we drank and danced the night away.

Over the course of the 2003 HOW Design Conference many relationships were established and by three o'clock this morning were solidified by toasted imbibed spirits. A design posse has now been established reaching across the North American continent. There is me, Holly and Tina from Denver, Wes from New Jersey, Scott from Minneapolis, Mark from Montreal, Dave and Beatriz from New York, Stacy from Pittsburgh, Rod from New Orleans (who gets props for taking us tourists to some of the best eating establishments in town) and whoever else I forgot to mention that I may have sat next to at a session, ate fish with at a restaurant or drank with on Bourbon Street.

Although my liver hates me, the rest of me had an excellent week.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, denver, drinking, how design, scotty minnesota, travels

All is well in the Big Easy on the HOW Design Conference tip. Last night's voodoo and haunted tours were a minor disappointment. The scariest moment of the evening was being witness to a homosexual couple performing boisterous fellatio acts on each other atop a parked car on a crowded street in the French Quarter. I lost a $20 bill somewhere near Jackson Square and proceeded to drink whiskey the rest of the night. The conference thus far has been phenomenal. There is a palpable creative energy with excellent speakers like James Victore and Genevieve Gorder. This environment has not only gotten me excited about design again but has yielded two crippling hangovers.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, how design, sex, travels

New Orleans smells like a combination of stale beer, urine and vomit. You will be walking down the street and the pungent aroma assaults your nostrils and makes you want jackals to chew off your face. Other than the stench, New Orleans is a very cool town. Out of my hotel room window I can see the Mississippi River, and I am across the street from Harrah's Casino and three blocks away from the French Quarter. Last night a pack of conference attendees went down to Bourbon Street and engaged in drunken revelries until the wee hours of the morning. Tonight I am touring old haunted homes in the French Quarter and watching some crazy bastards do some voodoo shit. As if becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy, yesterday, the first person I met remarked on how humid it was. It has been raining for the entire conference thus far, and the weather reports indicate that it will continue through out the weekend. So the obvious response to the humidity question is yes, it is fucking humid out.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, drinking, how design, scotty minnesota, travels

In the morning, I am off to New Orleans and the 2003 HOW Design Conference. I have attended a HOW Design Conference before, but I have never been to the New Orleans. I hear it is a fun town that smells like garbage with blended alcoholic fruit drinks on every corner. I expect it to be humid and I am comfortable with that. I will not be comfortable, however, with other conference attendees hitting me up with small talk like "This humidity is pretty bad, right?" As a matter of fact, if anybody decides to engage me with inane humidity banter, I will be sure to punt their teeth down their throat). During the day I will be kicking it Huck Finn Off The Banks Of The Mississippi Style; easy, laid back and oblivious to the world around me. At night, I will be kicking it Girls Gone Wild Style; draining Hurricanes until I give up the ghost and flashing my nipples for insignificant plastic beads.

Unless there are computers with internet access somewhere at the conference or a comely young lass will let me borrow her laptop for a few minutes, I will be unable to post while I am in the Big Easy (Unfortunately, the company laptop is being used at another conference for some work-related bullshit. Fucking whatever). Either way, I will be pimping the old school composition book and pen to capture the moments, so rest assured the five of you will be hearing all about my New Orleans adventures.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse, drinking, how design, travels

Yesterday, a high school freshman followed me around the office for career day. She was very cool and I was impressed with her motivation and direction. When I was fifteen, the only things that interested me were loosing my virginity, smoking cigarettes, drinking whiskey, throwing up all over my parents basement and getting my drivers license. I never gave much thought about a career. I only knew that I liked to draw obscene pictures of teachers in my notebooks. Many coworkers claimed I handled the mentor relationship with competent professionalism, but I think I corrupted her young mind like Socrates. Or Iron Maiden.

Labels: career, corruption, data slaughterhouse, history, music

Something great has happened at work today; I got a new(er) chair. Our technology director purchased a new comfortable leather number and she offered me her old chair. I reveled in sloppy seconds like a fat, hairy guy at a gang bang because my old chair was equipped with a low, nonadjustable back plate and a broken right arm. I wheeled that old tired bitch into an unused office where all broken-down corporate accessories go to die, shut the door and walked away with a smile, glad to be rid of it. My old chair was as uncomfortable as sex in the backseat of a 1984 Honda Accord. Currently my back is enjoying the additional support and my ass cheeks are snuggled warmly into ergonomically designed crevices. I am still holding out hope the company will come to its senses and gift its employees with some Aerons.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse

Colorado is buried from the biggest snow storm to hit the state in 20 years. Work has been canceled for the past two days. I have killed time reading, watching television, playing Tenchu: Wrath of Heaven and redesigning a website. Last night, I was in the midst of posting new material to the MB, and my power went out (thank you, expensive surge protector). Sitting in the dark for a few hours, I realized two things:

1. I need to save working files on my computer more often.
2. Trapped in your house during a blizzard would be the best time to have diarrhea.

This morning I woke up, made a delicious plate of eggs and bacon and dug myself out. I started with my patio, which had been buried the night before (I shoveled this area off three times the day before). Next, I cleared the snow from behind my garage so I could back my car out. Finally, I made a path from my front door to the walkway. My neighborhood is a winter wonderland and it is still snowing.

Labels: bacon, blizzard, career, colorado, data slaughterhouse, geekery, l-i-v-i-n, snow

An insane amount of freelance work is keeping me busy as of late. So busy in fact, that I went into more debt to buy a new computer. A Power Mac G4. Go ahead. I will wait while you clean your shorts. I love it and the freshly connected broadband internet access (you should see how amazing porn looks on this monitor). I am anticipating a good return on the investment. Now, is there any need for a website design in Denver?

Nels and Kerry's wedding went off without a hitch. Many spirits were imbibed, there was more dancing than an MC Hammer video and good times were had by all. I performed my best man duties with dignity and ease and avoided a candelabra incident during the ceremony thanks to my cat like reflexes. The minister unknowingly bumped a candelabra that would have sent the quaint chapel up in flames if it had not been caught. I did this without anyone in the congregation noticing a damn thing, moving swift and silently like a ninja on a rooftop.

My hockey league's regular season ended last Sunday. I was second in points on the team with 8 goals, 12 assists and 9 penalty minutes. We ended up in fifth place and are battling the fourth seeded Fighting Trout this Sunday. The Slashing Hyenas are in prime position to take it all the way to the house. My dreams of hoisting the Bladium Cup over my head and drinking in the sweet nectars of victory as I skate around the former airplane hangar in my jock strap to a cheering crowd of seven people will hopefully come to fruition.

Labels: career, drinking, hockey, nels, pop culture, technology, wedding