I Got Fired From UPS. And You're Still a Fatass.

My people!  It feels great to be back and filling your mind with garbage that I call "The Gospel According to Newk".

It has been quite some time since my last publication, but of course I have an excuse.  This one may actually be valid too....maybe.

Recently UPS turned its back on The Show-Stoppa, Jon Newcomb.  I got fired, for 2 weeks.  I wish I had some story of blood, tears, and glory to tell as to why I served a "termination", but I do not.  In fact, the story is extremely lame, and for all of you avid readers who do not work for Browntown, it may make little to no sense to you.  So in simple terms, I'll give it a shot.

It was a Friday.  The air was crisp, with a chill in the air, but the sun was shining and I had a half smile on my face.  I fed my cat Steven and headed out the door ready for what would be undoubtedly a hungover Friday at work.  I arrived to find that I had not even been staffed on a route!  Jackpot, right?  WRONG.  I was instructed to fill and empty truck with "splits"  from 8 different drivers, covering 6 different towns.  (A split is a "chunk" of work, usually 10-20 stops, that is a small piece of another route)  So without needing to be said, my Friday was going to suck huge balls.

The day progressed, and it was nearing in on 9 pm and I still had well over 20 stops to do in Middleboro.

For those of you unfamiliar with Middleboro, there are some criteria one must have to live here.  You must own no less than 16 firearms.  You must vote Republican in every election.  You must have a Confederate flag within plain sight of the street.  You must own and domesticate an animal that is neither a cat or dog, and does not fit in a cage.  And finally, your front yard must be the resting place of no less than 5 disabled automobiles.  Thats how awesome Middleboro is.

Now, I wish I could say this is where I ran over a whiney 5 year old, or delivered a box with a monster dogshit in it, or ripped an 8-ball to my "domepiece" with an elderly man, but no.  I simply said "fuck it" and drove back to Browntown, throwing in the towel.  I was greeted there by my boss, who could very well double for "King Hippo" from NES' Mike Tyson's Punch-out, and he fired my ass for not completing the work.  Asshole.

So that's that, and now its time to rant.

There is only one thing I hate more than "New Year Resolutions".  And thats people who do NOT practice ANY form of religion at all, and yet they still insist on "giving something up for lent".  Do they even know what "lent" is?  Probably not.  I wish I could educate you, but I truly don't know much about it either.  I'm pretty sure it involves something along the lines of Jesus kicked some serious ninja ass, and he smoked up all his apostles to celebrate.  But regardless, Lent promises are usually a mirror image of peoples' NYR, and involves something like:  "I'm going to stop giving blowjobs for meth!"  Or, "I'm going to stop drinking to the point where I beat my wife and kids". And my all time favorite, "I'm going to get serious about not being a lazy fatass!"

Last week, I was driving down a development, or neighborhood if you will; some may actually call it a "culdasac".  (I hate that word for 2 reasons,  1:  I dont know how to spell it, and 2: I'm too lazy to look up how to spell it.)  Anyways, I'm cruising down at a blazing 15 mph.  Some dumbass kid thinks he's hysterical by trying to outrun my truck.  If only my truck wouldnt leave tracks on the lawn, I would have without a doubt run his ass over.  Next, I stopped at the given house where my delivery was, and I was greeted by a woman, who was shaped like a large house.  The following conversation ensues.

"Sir, dont you think you're driving a bit fast through a neighborhood?  My son should be able to keep up with your truck, if not, I think you could slow down a tad."

"Haha, (fake laugh)  well ma'am, no problem, just trying to do my job!"  [Well Rosie O'Donnell, it is in fact a TRUCK,  its supposed to go faster than a walking fetus you call a son.  Not to mention, your son is a little bit on the 'fatass' side, dont you think?]

Fat people truly drive me insane.  They always are in a bad mood.  I want you all to pay attention to this for an entire week.  Truly pay attention.  Every fat person you encounter, gauge their mood.  Its usually sour, usually due to the fact that they've gone through 76 computers because they keep crashing from jerking off to internet porn, or because they accidently bought low fat butter, to put on their butter, which then goes on their buttered steak and cheese sub.

Here's an idea for your next bullshit New Years Resolution or Lent fasting, give up telling the UPS guy how to do his job, and actually give that treadmill I delivered 4 years a shot.  If not for your third stomach, for your attitude's sake.