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Showing posts from March, 2017
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True Story© Who Can I Trust?

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Do you have a Work BFF? You know that person at work who, while they may not be your literal best friend, are the one you are most likely to shoot the shit with and shares your disdain for most other people in the office.  You might not even kick it with this person outside of the 8-5, but for that time in the office they are your buddy. I don’t currently have one of these.  I am in a group of people in a small department that talk too damn much for me to want to establish this kind of communication with.  What I do have is a wildly entertaining dance of observing who talks to whom and assessing how I can use that to my amusement every chance I get. I guess that makes me my own Work BFF. When I first came to my current department, two people already knew me and one knew of me (one more person has been added since, with no turnover) .  Knowing what I knew of the two who already knew me, I knew that it’d be in my best interest to say nothing more than necessary to
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True Story© Knowing Your Worth

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Sometimes I sit and I watch and listen to people.  Not to get anything out of it so much as just to have something to do with a little of my time.  Naturally, this requires that I go out in public and kinda sit in my own space with my good ears on as well.  As much as I people-watch, I mainly tend to mind my own business and jettison a situation from my head as soon as it has ended and that is largely for the better of what remains of the little mental health I have left. But oh, this one day…                 I am in Wal Mart and this woman is giving her dude the BUSINESS!  NagNagNagNagNag, nothing he could do was right, nothing he could say was satisfactory and silence didn’t seem to be getting it either.  Each time I passed them it was something different and each time you could see the man becoming less and less of a human with EVERY time she addressed him, he just kind of clammed up and looked down the whole time.  Eventually, she just said “wait right here, I am going
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True Story© Confessions

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Sometimes, in these fits of pure boredom, I confess to shit that never actually happened. I mean FAR-FETCHED bullshit that is barely even possible. I do it for my own entertainment and to see how people will react. These are most fun to tell in mixed (racial, upbringing, people who do/don’t know me, etc…) company. To see someone pull a mutual acquaintance to the side and have them ask about me means I have won the game. The fun part is dragging up things that DID happen and COMPLETELY making some shit up to lend an air of realism to it. Scene 1. A few years ago, shooting the shit with a friend and some friends of said friends. We’re talking as a group about shit we used to do when we were MUCH younger. Friend: "anything else?" Me: "well yeah, there was this one time, sophomore year in college... You and I were going to play ball on campus, I swung by your house to drive but you'd already left" Friend: "yeah I remember that, you
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True Story© On the Public Speaking Circuit

                When I came home from jail and following all of the legal wrangling following my last run-in stemming from the D.A.R.E. program, I found myself without job and made ends meet with day labor, odd jobs and handyman shit.  The military was still doing me filthy after my time in Vietnam, so I got little help on that front. Eventually, I parlayed my experience with what was THOUGHT to be addiction (but was really dealing) to street drugs and the violent rage that had landed me in a bad place as a result of it into some speaking engagements.  Basically, some non-profits got wind of me and my situations and wanted to talk to me about them.  After I described to them what I had been through and what it had brought me to, their line of questioning turned more to what I had learned from it all and they decided that they may be able to sustain me by letting me tell my stories.                 With them handling the scheduling of their events, transportation and a per diem wh
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True Story© I Nearly Ended the Feral Pig Apocalypse Once

I HATE talking on the phone. If you ever so feel inclined to call me on the phone, contain everything you need to say into 180 or fewer seconds, and try to make it include an arrangement to meet in person and have a conversation if one needs to be had.  Otherwise, text me.                 I really don’t answer my phone except for from a very few people, and even those people will try not to try and call me unless just necessary. I knew the day the call came from a private number that I was setting myself up for some bullshit… *Phone rings* Me: “Hello?” Caller: “Evans!” Me: “Who is this?” Agent: “You didn’t save the number last time?” Me: “Private number, I don’t know your voice…  Identify yourself.” Agent: “Master control calling, we have a big proje--…” Me: “Wait, the same motherfuckers that dispatched me to Vietnam?” Agent: “Can I please at least explain why it is that I’m--…” Me: “The same assholes that sent agents to take me to Guantanamo?” Agent
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