I sat at my Macbook tonight, stickying blog topic ideas. As I worked my way through a list of stuff that make me want to pull out a gun and kill the offender, I came up with something that almost makes me run out and buy a can of sarin gas; mother fuckers that waste MY TIME.
There are a lot of situations where I find myself saying, "If this asshole doesn't hurry the fuck up, I'm going to kill someone!". I'll admit, I'm a bit of a time-Nazi. I hate to be late, I hate to wait for someone else; usually because I'm on-time or early. I really hate it when you are late, especially if your being late is going to cause me to be late somewhere else. And for Godsakes, don't ever make me late for something I am paying for!
It seems to me that this country runs on a bunch of different clocks. Mine; the one that shit you order online is scheduled on; the one that assholes with nothing to do all day follow, like old people and soccer moms and dickweeds without jobs; the one that teenagers use and the one that everyone else follows that is about 5 minutes slower than mine.
People, CHECK YOUR FUCKING WATCHES!
(When I CAPS, I'm yelling in my head. I know, I'm crazy.)
My clock is right on time, my time. Its set and synced to the great time keeper, AT&T's time servers. The ones that my iPhone follows. My computers are set the same way and so are my cars. If you ask me what time it is, believe me its the right time. Its Internet time. I got hooked on synchronized timekeeping back when eBay was a baby and the auctions ended on their own clock. The internet clock. The Internet clock. The Timekeeper of All Space and Time.
Group 2, the people with nothing to do all day, are the worst offenders. They are the assholes that drive 30 in 35 all the way down your street; the ones that ask 95 fucking questions about the menu options at McDonald's, like they've never been there; they are the mother fuckers that STILL WRITE CHECKS at the checkout! I hate them all. I know, most of the time its just a few extra minutes, but those minutes add up. I'd bet that if you added up all the time that these people suck from our lives writing fucking checks and figuring out which credit card isn't maxed out, that it comes up to like at least week a year. And what really makes me crazy is when they turn around and say something like, "sorry, I've never trusted those ATM things", like you and every other person on the planet that uses a debit card is some kind of fucking idiot. ARGHHH, die already!
Teenagers, if you don't have one, are another story. Mine tends to do shit like, "ah, Dad, I'm going to the mall. We're meeting at 6:00," and its like 5:55 and he's still in his underwear, because he just got up! The thing that really baffles me is that they are all like this and, when he shows up 20 minutes late to meet his friends; they're all just showing up, 20 minutes late. See, evidence of a completely different clock.
Internet orders follow a clock all their own. Say you click on a One-Click Order on Amazon with free two day shipping, at like 10am. So you'd expect it to arrive sometime close to 48 hours later. Trouble is we on this side of the Internet define two days as two 24 hour periods, but the internet retail people define it as something like, two 24 hour periods that commence following a ubiquitous portion of time that begins after the order is emailed to some fat girl in India and she sends it to another fat chick in Seattle to process and re-verify and then after that guy in the loading dock finishes the sandwich he's eating and smokes his 15th cigarette for the day. The 48 hours really turns out to be 72 hours plus or minus the 12 hours that UPS waste moving the package from the warehouse 2 miles from your house to the one 25 miles from your house and then to your door.
Lastly, everyone else's clock is just slow, by five minutes, and its because you all set your alarm clocks to fucked up times that you think helps you get up one time. In reality you know that the clock is fasted and you oversleep anyway, because YOU DON"T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT MY TIME!
Ciao,
The Chief
This eighth season welcomes a new judge, Kara DioGuardi. One of the highlights of the evening was her getting into it with the “bikini girl,” Katrina Darrell. 
The guy they saved until last was Scott MacIntyre, the blind dude.
