When Cursed With Seeing Everything

My son will be the first person to say I have a very, very, low tolerance for any degree or variable of bullshit. He will even go as far as saying I have a very active BS Meter (bullshitometer) which is represented by my left eyebrow. The higher the eyebrow goes represents the depth I believe of the bullshit. He, for one, chooses to step far away if both of my eyebrows get active. Why am I going into this at this point? There are a few reasons that have caught my own attention here the last few days and now that I have had time to reflect a bit, I would like to share.

We can start with Tuesday when I received a call in reference to a job I applied for online. I always have tried to check out company details prior to applying to get a better grasp of what they do overall, to include checking the BBB (Better Business Bureau) for complaints and kudos. This particular job was for a delivery driver who delivers custom architectural wood designs to a variety of builders and customers alike. Sounded interesting so I applied on Monday afternoon, along with about 50 other places. So, Tuesday’s call was a welcome surprise for me. The call came from a “staffing agency”, no surprise there, most places use them to select employee candidates, but not recognizing the number, I let it go to voicemail. After listening to it I called them back. They began by wanting to give zero information, just a time and place to meet for an interview. I asked about three things not mentioned prior, wages, hours, and position requirements. I was told that the information would be covered extensively in the interview. The interview was yesterday, in a Starbucks, about thirty minutes from my house.

First of all, I was just given an address, so I went to that address, this is when I found out it was a fucking Starbucks. I was instructed to text a number provided to me when I arrived and to wait outside the entrance. Very cloak and dagger, the bullshit flags were already flying by the time I got there, but I went anyway. I was met at the door by a stunning brunette, mid 30s, dressed very business like but very sexy like as well, very distracting if you ask me. Overkill on her part, but pleasant on the eyes in my opinion. She offered to buy me a coffee of my choice, of course my choice seemed disappointing to her, because I ordered an ice water, a $5.34 cup of ice water to be exact. And y’all wonder why I hate Starbucks. We sit, she slides her chair towards me, she opens her folder, and immediately starts talking. After a few minutes I sensed that this was way fucked up, she was trying to sell me an investment opportunity in an insurance company to become a licensed broker. When I finally stopped her from talking and quite literally asked her what in the fuck she was trying to pull, she began to explain, somewhat, and vaguely. Seems “Ms. Rice” was part of a recruiting team who screens candidates based on resumes that come into their office for alternative positions other than what they applied for as a gesture of good faith when the position applied for has been filled already.

Needless to say, we were done, way done, what a cunt, what a fucking scam. Sadly, two of my other applications were done through that same staffing company, at least now I know. So, pissed, disappointed, pissed, and now very disillusioned, I get back into my H1 and go home. When I pull into the driveway I get a call from the staffing agency which went to voicemail, explaining they are sorry things didn’t work out in the interview earlier and hope “we” have better luck in the future. WTF? In the future? There isn’t a fucking future with them. That takes big balls in my opinion, bigger balls than I have for sure. I need to send them a go fuck yourselves bouquet of dead weeds so they understand just how appreciative I am that they wasted my fucking morning all to hell and back. On the plus side, the stunning stripper wannabe who bought me the water reminded me that sometimes wolves wear wolves clothing to catch their prey, note to self indeed. What did I learn? One, that my bullshitometer works just fine and I should have listened to it from the get go. Two, this is about the tenth or twelfth time that someone contacted me for school loans, grants, insurance, government assistance, and other crap when all I want is a job, not more bullshit grief. And three, anyone who chooses to meet up at a Starbucks for anything already has a few screws loose and shouldn’t be trusted.

I forget what else I was going to mention, so I will conclude this post with a message. My true curse is I don’t trust people, but people are my biggest curiosity, and because of that I subconsciously always scrutinize everything, calling bullshit when it truly is bullshit. Don’t get me wrong though, there are some truly amazing people on the planet who can’t be washed over by the truly amazing liars the walk beside. Anyway, I’m still looking for a job, so I better get back to the hunt. Thanks for stopping by.

WTF Are You Fuckers Smoking?

For one short moment last night I was close to just shutting this fucking blog down, throwing in the towel, and let the sheeple fucktards move in to take over. It was a momentary lapse in my own fucking common sense to say the very least. If y’all really must know why I created, maintain, and update this blog, its real simple, because Fuck You, that’s why. I hate the fucking question, “what is the focus or purpose of The Sting Of The Scorpion?” Why? Because its impossible to post one motherfucking thing on any topic and not have 100 crawling up my ass bitching and complaining. Go cry to your fucking momma because I don’t give a flying fuck. I do this blog for “entertainment” mostly, it has never been here to please one group of people or another, ever. Even though I attempt to entertain people here with my sophomoric sarcasm there is also a great deal posted about things going on in my own fucking life, some good & some bad, some humorous & some on the more serious side, some that is relevant to many & some that only will matter to me, but all of it is done because I make time to pull my phone out and make time to keep my blog active with new posts. But nooooooo, I get bashed because I’m a sick twisted fucker who belongs in a straight jacket locked up in a tiny padded room. Well, fuck you, I’m not, I’m here posting whatever in the fuck I choose because that is what I fucking want to do when and how I fucking want to do it. You have choices and one if them is to not to click the link which leads you here. Once you are here you have the choice to leave as well if The Sting Of The Scorpion isn’t your fucking cup of tea. Either way, if you stay or if you leave, The Sting Of The Scorpion will still be here.

So, let’s explore what has your panties all wadded up in your cunt this time. If that just offended you then its because you know I am talking directly to you so you can stop guessing in your head who I am pointing out. Its fucking you! First I would like to address the fucknuggets who, so colorfully, addressed a post I did yesterday about my real life backyard hog invaders. Just because I own guns (yes multiple guns) doesn’t mean I wish to hunt and kill everything that walks this planet. Just because I hunt doesn’t mean I wish to hunt and kill everything on this planet. It does mean, however, that I have options, not that I’m an indiscriminate killer of all the cutesy wutsey creatures which roam in the wild. But then again, some of us call some of those humble creatures fucking dinner, sorry to be the one to inform you, but some if us hunt for our food. However, in that particular post I never mentioned hunting the sow hog pictured, I just want to help move it on along, but I will win one way or another because I have options. Don’t hunt? I really don’t care. Don’t eat meat? I really don’t care. Don’t like guns? I really don’t care. I will protect my family and property against man and beast because that is the kind of person I am. Do I speak for everyfuckingbody? Nope, just for myself. Hogs are dirty destructive beasts who cost property owners allot of freaking money every year. I am happy for those of y’all who live places where there aren’t any invasive vermon threatening who you love and what you own.

Yes, in real life, fuck and variables of the word fuck are my favorite words. Yes, my blog tends to reflect directly on how I speak. Yes, I am a grumpy fucking bastard who is tired of people’s bullshit in real life too, this isn’t some fucked up twisted freak show you are watching here, some of it is my life as well. Yes, I know I have my autocorrecting spell checker off since I am the one who knows what I want to say and how I want to say it. Moving on now I would like to address something, that I was told is holy and sacred, my use of church signs over the last couple of days. Boothefuckhoo if you thought they were in “bad taste” because I thought it was a hilarious idea. Did they get your attention? Mission accomplished. Did you find them personally unique to The Sting Of The Scorpion? Mission accomplished. Did the fact that a person who despises organized religion used a church sign to promote his blog throw you a curve ball? Mission accomplished. Were you fucking offended? Well, that’s all on you, maybe you are too sensitive to be here in the first place. By the way, for those of y’all wondering, sometimes I do think that there needs to be a “complete guide” to The Sting Of The Scorpion because many if y’all just do not have the mental capacity to have an open mind about the life we live or the planet we live on or the societies we are a part of because some people choose to have their eyes and ears shut but have their big fucking mouths open. This blog does not focus on organized religion or politics because there is absolutely no desire to vommit up the vile that everyone seems to already be so in tune with. Yes, I stab at the obviously ignorant shit one sees in the news on occasion, but it isn’t a staple here. No, we probably do not share the opinions I might have about our fellow human beings and that’s okay with me because I think you need to have your own opinions and conclusions on people and life. We are individuals for fucks sake.

Now let’s talk about you slimy fucking spammer bitches. Do you know that I delete 200+ bogus spam bullshit comments every fucking morning? No? You thought you were the only one spamming The Sting Of The Scorpion? Wrong. You idiots don’t get it. This is not a porn site. This is not an international dating site. This is not an anti-gun site. This is not an anti-gay site. This is not a skinhead site. We are not interested in the “legal drugs” you have to offer. We do not have any friends or family members whose benefits we wish to seek laundered out of a third world country and all you need is our banking information to make us millionaires. No, I don’t need hints in vaginal freshness. No, I don’t need the next best thing to Viagra or the no name generic drug which I can buy from Mexico or Canada. No, I do not need help finding Jesus Christ. No, I am not going to vote for you. No, I am not seeking help cleaning up the looks of my website. These are just examples of the regular bullshit that the spammers consider relevant to any given post done here. My favorite tho is the multiple ads I get on the prevention and care for the wounds caused by, wait for it………………..scorpion stings! We don’t advertise here, we don’t do this for fame or money, we are here providing all of this at no cost to the reader, its free.

In the end, read/view/skim The Sting Of The Scorpion for whatever your reasons might be at that given moment. Yes, I know this blog is an acquired taste and not everyone will always be happy about it. Oh well, I don’t really fucking care. Y’all come back for some reason and that is enough for me. Oh, as far as the recommendation that I perform a complete overhaul to reformat this blog, y’all can go to hell because The Sting Of The Scorpion will remain as it is and always has been.

I’m Going To Need A Bigger Dozer