This is how bored we get at my job.
It's a snow day and it's really coming down. No trucks can get loaded (which is sort of what I do), and people are going home early to avoid the icy rains. Well, everyone but the dock crew...guess we're uber important, we just have the humbleness to deny ourselves the fat paychecks of those that sit in offices.
Anyway, when you're on an empty dock, you come up with games to make sure your mind doesn't start to eat off itself out of non-stimulation.
By the way, here's a nice rule of thumb for you all at the workplace: Whenever you have nothing to do, and your boss, or anyone who thinks they're in charge, comes around, NEVER say you're bored. If you do that, they'll make you sweep. Now you're sweeping and bored to tears. So, when they ask you if you're bored, say, "No, I'm intellectually unstimulated"...
I digress...
So, the games we make up are things like "shrinkwrap the sleeping guy", masking tape baseball", and my favorite game, "Movie Mogul"
Whats that you say? Well, where everyone else does stuff like entertainment trivia, our game is that we make up a stupid name of a movie and "hook", and challenge the next guy to come up with a bankable premise as if they're doing a sales pitch to a movie studio bigwig. I always win this game.
My title pitches today were:
"The Kid is the Shits!", a disney travel/buddy pic with any Jonas Brother, and Alec Baldwin, and a singing hen voiced by Miley Cyrus...
A bunch of pre-teens boys have to stay after school and find they all have embarrassing puberty control problems, no matter what social group they orbit in, called, "Boner Club"...
"Oy! That's me Leg!!", an Australian cannibal dramedy from the producers of Crocodile Dundee, with long forgotten has been Yahoo Serious in a career defining role. Meryl Strep as the Dingo Wrangler with a secret...
I've always found if you add singing chickens, you can be guaranteed $30 million more to the budget, and a built in soundtrack CD tie-in. Alec Baldwin will work for a sandwich and if you let him come to your house to wash his pants every now and then. See? Budget is everything!
While we were pitching all this crap, this all reminded me of a TV movie I saw as a child. It had to do with Michael Landon being a olympic medal runner being interviewed about how he became such a fast runner. Michael looks into the camera and starts to get all wavy as he flashes back to his high school days...and being a cronic bedwetter. It seems his cold-hearted mom thought he was just being too lazy and not getting up to "drain the snake", so she hung his bedsheets out the window for the neighborhood to see. So young Michael had to race home, every day after school, before anyone else, to take the sheets down before his best girl and buddies can see that he has the bladder of a frightened bunny.
I couldn't think of the name of this TV gem! Wee-man? Urine Trouble? Running Water? Talking to a man about a horse? I couldn't remember! And this movie was as good as "the Boy in the Plastic Bubble" in awesomeness! We even bet there was a sweet coming of age song at the end about it all, with lyrics like, "...Piss boy...No, no one understands your plight...piss boy...were you much too relaxed at night..."
So we used the company's Internet resources to Google "Michael Landon Bedwetter". And hoo boy, did things turn up! I never knew Susan Sommers and FDR needed diapers too! (by the way, the movie was called, The Loneliest Runner...) How the hell did Mr. Landon get a studio to back an autobiographical movie about his weak bladder? I'd love to see the pitch he gave for a money man to say, "say no more! We NEED to see this on the big screen! Johnson! Free up a soundstage and get this man a production office!"
Intellectually unstimulated. "Boner Club" is starting to look bankable now...
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving Parades are Not What They Used to Be.
I remember the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade so different long ago.
When I was a child, we used to sit in from of our TV set in our jammies with the feet attached, earlier than we'd ever be voluntarily. But, floats! And balloons! Bullwinkle and Underdog with that always limp hand being dragged earthbound by tiny tiny people in colorful sweaters. It was a wonderful and the highlight of the season, apart from Christmas.
So today, I decided to make a Turkey breast and stuffing for myself and the kitten...oh yeah, I have a kitten...which I'll tell you about later. So, anyway, I decided to watch the parade whilst I make the Turkey.
And things...have changed. So, I'm writing this live.
For one thing, I must now place the word "parade" in parenthesis. It's been on for over half an hour and I haven't seen a float nor a balloon, unless it's being slash cut from to Al Rokker sitting in the crowds asking if they're enjoying themselves. All I've seen are stupid song and dance numbers from the same spot, Matt lauer looking like an orangutan with that cropped haircut. And, how many marching bands can you really see? Not as if there's anything different from band to band aprt for the uniforms.
The real "parade" starts in 18 minutes they say, but first, "Under da Sea" stage play performance. It's like a Broadway extended commercial. I think the whole thing started to go downhill when they had the Mayor of the parade, or the king of Turkey, I really don't know, and some chick both cut the ribbon to start the festivities. Firstly, the siccors are huge, then when they are going to cut the ribbon...it was mimed...and someone off camera just dropped the ribbon! Was the ribbon going to be saved for next year? That was a harbinger of doom, I think.
Oh! Nothing says Thanksgiving like Harry Connick Jr. in a helicopter describing what he sees from up there. Everyone the hosts speak to go off like a paid commercial brake. Rokker talked to some girl from Heroes, and informed me it's on 8:00pm Mondays, 7 central.
9:48 am - I am told that it wouldn't be a Macy's "parade" without the high kicking legs of the Radio city Rockeetes. I always though it was turkey and floats, so I have been put in my place apparently. They're performing at the entrance to Macy's, like every other act I've endured so far. Just realized that this Macy's "Parade" is a Macy's promotional flier on my TV screen. How many years did that take for that to sink in? Still to come: Clay Aiken, James Taylor, and teen sensation Mylie Cyrus. No mention of a "parade"...
10:00am - the "parade" begins thank good...with a gaggle of clowns? A Balloon!!!! A Macy's balloon celebrating themselves, but a balloon nevertheless! The effigies of Pilgrim man and Pilgrims woman are marched out, and they say, they're unoffical, so they should be escorted off then, right? Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. And a cutaway to the hosts for most of that. A Smurf float! Haven't seen them since skinny ties and Gary Glitter. A smurf balloon, with the fun fact that 30,000 smurfs can fit inside. Ah, there's a Smurf movie is coming out soon, and Matt says's it'll be "Smurfy, and that's a fact!".
Slam on those "parade" brakes! James Taylor is going to sing. I so do love live lip singing. He's done, the float driver pops the clutch, and the "parade" continu...no....commercial. Next up, some generic infectionous boy-pop band will lip sync.
Baton twirling all stars. A Snoopy float with a live Beagle on board, who happens to be showing off his massive swingin' junk. Obviously cold weather doesn't effect dogs. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A Disney Commercial float of Bolt...and Mylie Cyrus miming a performance, so the "parade" stops again. Nothing is more pathetic than those throngs of kids on floats force to wave for miles. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Hula dancing all stars. An odd float of a rhinoceros rock and guys climbing all over it's face, like parasites on a real rhino in the wild! And just like the wild, Shauntel is pretend singing in front of it all. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. We are to say "ola' to Dora the Explorah, on her hugeass balloon. A very disturbing Harajuko Girls float...Japanese little girls with oversize heads and squinty eyes. No joke. Energizer Bunny float...and, he's not moving!!! He might be dead, because that's not like him at all!
The Harley Beats Jumprope team all stars. Sesame Street float, and... crap...with piano virtuoso "LongLong" (?) on board. Can I have a float without a frikin musician, please? OMG! Bob from Sesame Street is still alive?! He must be like 328 years old! Abby Kadaby balloon. Never heard of her. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Hello Kitty Balloon. Looks like the Abby balloon with a re-dress. My Princess Academy float...and hey! A song with some more cookie cutter teen sensations on board. What the hell? Why even bother holding microphones?
10:30am - Big Apple Circus juggling all stars. Mr. Peanut in his Nutmoble. Didn't I see all that with the beagle float? A float of NYC, with the cast of dirty hippies singing "Age of Aquarius". Unfortunatly, you can't dress like that today without being branded gay. Horses with really fat cops on top. A bent over, looking like he's taking a painful stool drop, Ronald McDonald balloon.
American Dance Theater all stars. A heart balloon. Not the rock band. A bridge float...with "Push-Play" singing straight off a mp3 player. The heart balloon almost killed Meridith and Matt, proving there is a God, and he just gave them a stern warning. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. M&M float...with a Wicked performance. Is every float going to be infested with these singers like deer ticks? A Pincachu balloon, with a quick shot of hundreds of children falling into seizures in the streets. Okay, that's just creative dreaming.
Some kinda American Idol runner up singing on a float of a starship made by a cartoon dog. Seems like justice, i guess. And this is the first time we didn't come back from a commercial brake to some kind of "all stars". Buzz Lightyear balloon. I'm stoked! Foster's home for Imaginary Friends float!!! And i become unstoked just as quickly when they start to sing..and restoked when Rick Astley jumps out and sings "Never gonna give you up"! This is the best "parade" ever! Rick-rolling Macy's!
11:00am - Latin spirited Dance team all stars. A steamboat float with giant bobble heads. Awaiting a songmaker on board...yep...16 year old phenom Charese. NBC's stink is all over this "parade", as the fakey mikes these people sing into has their logo.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Spongebob balloon and he has a maniac smile like he has a few bodies in his basement and planning to make a human skin suit. A Jimmy Dean float with Trace Atkins singing some crap, and no evidence of sausages, unless I'm missing a beagle somewhere on there. A pirate balloon, and the telecasters are going straight to hell due to their "arrgh matey" imitations to go on way too long.
Indian dance all stars in polyester. The "dean of green" Kermit the Frog balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. An uncle Sam balloon, chasing...two balls? What are they trying to say? US postal service float, so we all have a boy-band scattin away upon it. Talk about chasing bawls. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A nice replica of the statue of Liberty float...and no singer?! This is an outrage!
Harold the Fireman balloon. No idea. Business men in suits aping "Stripes". Did they think I wouldn't know? Big Apple float (NYC float numbah two), with the prerequisite singer, Ashanti. For a brief second, I sware I was looking for the "FF" button on my remote. Beethoven the dog balloon, I guess replacing the old Clifford the big red Dog balloon this year. Gibson guitar float with a former Hootie, from the blowfish tribe.
11:30am - Special Needs color guard all stars. A clown balloon, which is one of the signs of End of Days. Some kind of bear float with a singer. Hang on! Wasn't she Summer from School of Rock? Damn, her voice is heavily modulated. Shrek balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Horton Hears a Who balloon. Care Bears float? Are they even known nowadays? They're probably selling blood for booze and hash in Amsterdam right now. More singers stapled onto floats. The bears are ice skating. I'm in hell.
11:45am - home stretch. Kermit again? He's tiny now, and he's singing on a log. That means reality collapsed on itself, doesn't it? Can't get over the fact there's a man scrunched up inside the log with his hand up the frogs bum. Lots of misques, then Andy Williams is dug up, hosed off, and wheeled into the courtyard to lipsing a Christmas song. Oh. A marching ...you get the picture.
Santa arrives for the release! He's surrounded by people dressed like Thing #1 and #2 from the Cat in the Hat, and 3 "Helium Elves", which I guess means they "huff". I am so done and ready to eat...I suffered so you wont have to.
Happy Thanksgiving!
When I was a child, we used to sit in from of our TV set in our jammies with the feet attached, earlier than we'd ever be voluntarily. But, floats! And balloons! Bullwinkle and Underdog with that always limp hand being dragged earthbound by tiny tiny people in colorful sweaters. It was a wonderful and the highlight of the season, apart from Christmas.
So today, I decided to make a Turkey breast and stuffing for myself and the kitten...oh yeah, I have a kitten...which I'll tell you about later. So, anyway, I decided to watch the parade whilst I make the Turkey.
And things...have changed. So, I'm writing this live.
For one thing, I must now place the word "parade" in parenthesis. It's been on for over half an hour and I haven't seen a float nor a balloon, unless it's being slash cut from to Al Rokker sitting in the crowds asking if they're enjoying themselves. All I've seen are stupid song and dance numbers from the same spot, Matt lauer looking like an orangutan with that cropped haircut. And, how many marching bands can you really see? Not as if there's anything different from band to band aprt for the uniforms.
The real "parade" starts in 18 minutes they say, but first, "Under da Sea" stage play performance. It's like a Broadway extended commercial. I think the whole thing started to go downhill when they had the Mayor of the parade, or the king of Turkey, I really don't know, and some chick both cut the ribbon to start the festivities. Firstly, the siccors are huge, then when they are going to cut the ribbon...it was mimed...and someone off camera just dropped the ribbon! Was the ribbon going to be saved for next year? That was a harbinger of doom, I think.
Oh! Nothing says Thanksgiving like Harry Connick Jr. in a helicopter describing what he sees from up there. Everyone the hosts speak to go off like a paid commercial brake. Rokker talked to some girl from Heroes, and informed me it's on 8:00pm Mondays, 7 central.
9:48 am - I am told that it wouldn't be a Macy's "parade" without the high kicking legs of the Radio city Rockeetes. I always though it was turkey and floats, so I have been put in my place apparently. They're performing at the entrance to Macy's, like every other act I've endured so far. Just realized that this Macy's "Parade" is a Macy's promotional flier on my TV screen. How many years did that take for that to sink in? Still to come: Clay Aiken, James Taylor, and teen sensation Mylie Cyrus. No mention of a "parade"...
10:00am - the "parade" begins thank good...with a gaggle of clowns? A Balloon!!!! A Macy's balloon celebrating themselves, but a balloon nevertheless! The effigies of Pilgrim man and Pilgrims woman are marched out, and they say, they're unoffical, so they should be escorted off then, right? Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. And a cutaway to the hosts for most of that. A Smurf float! Haven't seen them since skinny ties and Gary Glitter. A smurf balloon, with the fun fact that 30,000 smurfs can fit inside. Ah, there's a Smurf movie is coming out soon, and Matt says's it'll be "Smurfy, and that's a fact!".
Slam on those "parade" brakes! James Taylor is going to sing. I so do love live lip singing. He's done, the float driver pops the clutch, and the "parade" continu...no....commercial. Next up, some generic infectionous boy-pop band will lip sync.
Baton twirling all stars. A Snoopy float with a live Beagle on board, who happens to be showing off his massive swingin' junk. Obviously cold weather doesn't effect dogs. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A Disney Commercial float of Bolt...and Mylie Cyrus miming a performance, so the "parade" stops again. Nothing is more pathetic than those throngs of kids on floats force to wave for miles. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Hula dancing all stars. An odd float of a rhinoceros rock and guys climbing all over it's face, like parasites on a real rhino in the wild! And just like the wild, Shauntel is pretend singing in front of it all. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. We are to say "ola' to Dora the Explorah, on her hugeass balloon. A very disturbing Harajuko Girls float...Japanese little girls with oversize heads and squinty eyes. No joke. Energizer Bunny float...and, he's not moving!!! He might be dead, because that's not like him at all!
The Harley Beats Jumprope team all stars. Sesame Street float, and... crap...with piano virtuoso "LongLong" (?) on board. Can I have a float without a frikin musician, please? OMG! Bob from Sesame Street is still alive?! He must be like 328 years old! Abby Kadaby balloon. Never heard of her. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Hello Kitty Balloon. Looks like the Abby balloon with a re-dress. My Princess Academy float...and hey! A song with some more cookie cutter teen sensations on board. What the hell? Why even bother holding microphones?
10:30am - Big Apple Circus juggling all stars. Mr. Peanut in his Nutmoble. Didn't I see all that with the beagle float? A float of NYC, with the cast of dirty hippies singing "Age of Aquarius". Unfortunatly, you can't dress like that today without being branded gay. Horses with really fat cops on top. A bent over, looking like he's taking a painful stool drop, Ronald McDonald balloon.
American Dance Theater all stars. A heart balloon. Not the rock band. A bridge float...with "Push-Play" singing straight off a mp3 player. The heart balloon almost killed Meridith and Matt, proving there is a God, and he just gave them a stern warning. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. M&M float...with a Wicked performance. Is every float going to be infested with these singers like deer ticks? A Pincachu balloon, with a quick shot of hundreds of children falling into seizures in the streets. Okay, that's just creative dreaming.
Some kinda American Idol runner up singing on a float of a starship made by a cartoon dog. Seems like justice, i guess. And this is the first time we didn't come back from a commercial brake to some kind of "all stars". Buzz Lightyear balloon. I'm stoked! Foster's home for Imaginary Friends float!!! And i become unstoked just as quickly when they start to sing..and restoked when Rick Astley jumps out and sings "Never gonna give you up"! This is the best "parade" ever! Rick-rolling Macy's!
11:00am - Latin spirited Dance team all stars. A steamboat float with giant bobble heads. Awaiting a songmaker on board...yep...16 year old phenom Charese. NBC's stink is all over this "parade", as the fakey mikes these people sing into has their logo.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Spongebob balloon and he has a maniac smile like he has a few bodies in his basement and planning to make a human skin suit. A Jimmy Dean float with Trace Atkins singing some crap, and no evidence of sausages, unless I'm missing a beagle somewhere on there. A pirate balloon, and the telecasters are going straight to hell due to their "arrgh matey" imitations to go on way too long.
Indian dance all stars in polyester. The "dean of green" Kermit the Frog balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. An uncle Sam balloon, chasing...two balls? What are they trying to say? US postal service float, so we all have a boy-band scattin away upon it. Talk about chasing bawls. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A nice replica of the statue of Liberty float...and no singer?! This is an outrage!
Harold the Fireman balloon. No idea. Business men in suits aping "Stripes". Did they think I wouldn't know? Big Apple float (NYC float numbah two), with the prerequisite singer, Ashanti. For a brief second, I sware I was looking for the "FF" button on my remote. Beethoven the dog balloon, I guess replacing the old Clifford the big red Dog balloon this year. Gibson guitar float with a former Hootie, from the blowfish tribe.
11:30am - Special Needs color guard all stars. A clown balloon, which is one of the signs of End of Days. Some kind of bear float with a singer. Hang on! Wasn't she Summer from School of Rock? Damn, her voice is heavily modulated. Shrek balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Horton Hears a Who balloon. Care Bears float? Are they even known nowadays? They're probably selling blood for booze and hash in Amsterdam right now. More singers stapled onto floats. The bears are ice skating. I'm in hell.
11:45am - home stretch. Kermit again? He's tiny now, and he's singing on a log. That means reality collapsed on itself, doesn't it? Can't get over the fact there's a man scrunched up inside the log with his hand up the frogs bum. Lots of misques, then Andy Williams is dug up, hosed off, and wheeled into the courtyard to lipsing a Christmas song. Oh. A marching ...you get the picture.
Santa arrives for the release! He's surrounded by people dressed like Thing #1 and #2 from the Cat in the Hat, and 3 "Helium Elves", which I guess means they "huff". I am so done and ready to eat...I suffered so you wont have to.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Bible of the Bro (part deux)
A bit back, I did promise to expound my wisdom about the male condition to all my female readers. I thought being a "scab" would automatically ostracize me from the ranks of bro-dom. And, sad to say, fear took a grip upon me like I was a lone rebel upon the Deathstar...
How typically male of me! I didn't realize that since my site does have breasts or sports statistics, NO male would ever visit it! This page is like a forgotten realm that anyone with hangy down parts wil never trespass. There's just not enough testosterone to sustain a dudes "dude-atude". He's either have to embrace the fact that he has feelings, or wither and die in the most dramatic way a sick male can. (you ladies with "all man", beer and firetrucks, boyfriends know all about what happens when he gets a tiny sniffle. Hell, I do that too!)
So, once again i'm going to let out the secret handbook of being a "dude":
And in the tradition of a standard bible, i'm bringing today, the Psalms part...
How typically male of me! I didn't realize that since my site does have breasts or sports statistics, NO male would ever visit it! This page is like a forgotten realm that anyone with hangy down parts wil never trespass. There's just not enough testosterone to sustain a dudes "dude-atude". He's either have to embrace the fact that he has feelings, or wither and die in the most dramatic way a sick male can. (you ladies with "all man", beer and firetrucks, boyfriends know all about what happens when he gets a tiny sniffle. Hell, I do that too!)
So, once again i'm going to let out the secret handbook of being a "dude":
And in the tradition of a standard bible, i'm bringing today, the Psalms part...
- Never watch the movie "The Notebook"
- No phone conversations in a public restroom.
- Never dress to match your girlfriend or wife.
- Two men should never walk down the street under the same umbrella.
- No man should ever ride bitch on an other man's motorcycle. (oh, Dr. Jones! How could you?!)
- Under no circumstances is any man allowed to send an emoticon ;-) =) :-p etc. to another man.
- You can't narc out a buddy for showing up to work hungover. You can however harass him as much as possible.
- A man must never wear a Speedo in public. The exceptions are water polo players, secret agents, and dudes who are tough enough to kick everyone's ass.
- If you need to change in a public bathroom use the stall
- No man shall ever feed or be fed by another man, unless the recipient of said feeding is physically or mentally handicapped, or otherwise restricted in any way that prevents feeding oneself.
- There is no reason for a man to watch men's figure skating or men's gymnastics. Ever.
- Unless you're in prison, never fight naked
- No man should ever speak badly about bacon, handguns, beer, Batman, or sex.
- No man shall ever work another man's BBQ unless specifically asked to.
- No man shall have any kind of fuzzy decoration on, or in, his car.
- "If" your girlfriend or wife finds your porn, cop to it. In fact be proud. Real men are not ashamed of watching porn. If your mom finds it, blame someone else.
- No man shall ever be required to buy another man a birthday gift. In fact, even remembering you're buddies birthday is strictly optional.
- If you bring beer to a party and need to leave, the beer stays.
- No man shall complement another mans entire wardrobe, only on individual items of clothing.
- Unless in the entertainment industry, no man shall wear makeup.
- No man shall ever use another mans chap stick. And especially never comment on how it tastes.
- Never call another man while you are taking a dump... A picture message with your cell phone is however acceptable.
Something else I should dispel about men: Although we say no man shall ever touch another mans crotch, by simply using a balled up fist and a quick action, it's not only acceptable, but hilariously fun. But, really, don't we all know why we wanted to "hit" a guy in the jewels in the first place? A little honesty, gentlemen, please.
And finally, no man shall never nickname himself. If you do need to nickname a buddy, the following names are restricted:
Farrah Feelings, Cuddles, Francesca Frenchbraid, Prissytoes, Pippy Premenstrual, Ponyboy, Lee Pressons, Puppyeyes, Marlene Maxipad, Nipples-o-plenty, Sherry Showercap, Frita Fallopian, Sugarqueen, Margaret Goodetiquette, Pinchy Cheeks, Holly Haircurlers, Bunny Corsetzipper, Lashonda Tamponda, Fruitytootie, Fairy Sugartushy, Shannon Sparkles-Like-a-Star, Rainbowfeather, Sissy Glittermuff, McPrancertons, Flowerpanties, Jill Massengill, Stubby, Bellatrix Cervix: Dominatrix for Hire, Swishy McSashay, and Girly Von Curtsy!
No need to hide this now, so go to work and play with these rules with all your guy friends!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Halloween is Officially Dead
When you're driving to the Library at 3pm in the afternoon, the last thing you expect to see are tons of children in costumes being dragged about by parents with fairy wands walking about like the living dead Apocalypse... except with candy and in daylight.
And it wasn't even Halloween yet! Blasphemy!!!
I know last Halloween I was bitching about how the holiday wasn't like it was, with a pall of danger in the air and slow moving cars that would drop children off at very lighted doorways in a quasi special ops drop zone mission. But now, we're not only doing the halloweening in midday, but not even on the 31st!?
Are parents hoping that by not even trick or treating on all hallows eve, that maybe they'll fool all those hidden evil people who insert razor blades into popcorn balls? I always figured, even as a child, that putting foreign objects into a popcorn ball or apple "treat" was way too much trouble and hard work to go through to ruin a child's holiday. It's easier to just give out pennies or toothbrushes, isn't it? Always ruined mine. Hell, those "fun" sized candies was enough insult. Fun, I guess, is the size of a baby's thumb. And really, did anyone one get to urge to rush home and take a big ol' bite of the green or orange colored ball of popcorn?
Come to think of it, no one has ever thought to check those eggs on Easter that the youngsters just find on the lawn. Here's a big clue: Bunnies don't lay eggs. They're stolen merchandise. And If I was a bunny trying to hide me eggy treasures, I think I'd booby trap a few to discourage any pilferage from the evil humans broodlings. And no sane parent would let a scruffy old homeless guy brake into your home and give an unmarked boxed item to a child, but lets forget about all caution come December 25th as long as he wears red and is "jolly". I don't trust the demand that you get a free gift if you only sit on his lap.
But Halloween. It's now not safe.
No longer do you see those plastic half masks and satin-y costumes. The trend for teens now is slutty versions of normal attire. I saw a lot of teen girls walking about today with "sexy football" costumes. These were just tights, a tiny mid-cut tee with a random number on it, and a black slash makeup under the eyes. Want more proof?
Oh, and Feel a bit ashamed.
I saw a little girl dressed in a plushy white tube and surrounded with some slabs of cardboard and a string dragging on the ground. I am very very ashamed, but I thought she was dressed as a tampon with a cardboard applicator. My first thought was that her parents are very cruel hateful people. Most parents who are cheapasses, just dress you up as a hobo, a gypsy, or even a ghost/klansman like I was inadvertently so long ago. And that's when I became even more ashamed...
I finally figured out she was supposed to be a vanilla wafer and one of her straps for a wafer half just broke. But com'on! That was either a incredibly brilliant visionary costume, or mom and dad just don't know what a vanilla wafer is supposed to look like. I guess it could have been worse, and they could have tried to dress her up as a ding-dong with black-face. I probably would have gone to hell for that one.
So, Halloween is officially dead. Boo.
And thanks to costumes like these, Not only am I not scared of Freddy Krugger, I'm kinda looking forward to a dream visit...
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Grocery List
I'm a dude, but somehow, it's quite entertaining to go shopping for food and crap!
the only rules are to never go grocery shopping when you're hungry, or just got paid: You'll never get out alive. Trust me. It's a deadly social trap. So, for today's blog, I shopped, and made notes! Exciting! I know!!
But, let me get this off of my chest right now. Parking.
Some of the worst drivers are trolling the parking lots of America's food stores. You see old bee hived women, or more to the point, a pair of knuckles on a huge steering wheel of a boat of a car, and I hear the theme from jaws as they moto about like an evil flying Dutchman of death. Oh, I have been hit by old people in these lots before, and I was walking. Fell over the back trunk of this Volvo, and the elderly gentleman had the nerve to give me the stink-eye! Like my plan was to stage dive his wax job! Parents say don't play in traffic: nay, don't walk about in shopping parking lots.
Shall I even go into those trucks, vans and hummers that park in those little "compact" labeled parking spaces? Some even park in two spots diagonally so you cant park next to them. Say, doesn't the market have raw eggs? Hmm...
On with the ritual of wrestling a plastic cart free from it's brethren! A quick scan of it's interior to make sure there are no used diapers, empty coffee cups, or a used corn dog stick inside, then onward through those amazing magical Star Trek self opening doors.
I'm told these door are to keep critters out. I don't see how. Anything over an ounce will open the doors. Maybe bees and deer ticks? I have seen stray dogs wandering markets before...
They got v8 juice and "healthy choice" v8 juice. Was there something unhealthy about the previous regular one? One rotten vegetable maybe. Or a finger from a bottling accident, who knows? Kind of makes you wanna go "healthy".
Lookie! Books for sale that promise to make you thin, tell your sex horoscope, gamble a winning shot machine or lotto, and a newspaper that says Bigfoot stole another wife. They sell a book of baby names for 10 bucks. Hey guess what you already got a huge one at home for free: the phone book.
Female hygiene. I think it's so unfair you ladies get a whole aisle to yourselves. guys have to share theirs with band aids, and motor oil. I view the huge selections of the douche, and i see lemon flavored, then i see vinegar Same flavors that go on fish. I'm just saying. I did see hand lotion in the "men's" section. I'm just saying.
It did however say on it, "best for skin".
And here's some odorless deodorant. Hey great, Ill smell like nothin', and it'll cost me 10 bucks. Wait, why do pregnancy tests come in multi packs? Don't people believe the first one, or is it the "ho" pack?
The cheese products are nasty. And screw the "cheese food", which isn't real cheese at all, but might be "real (tm)" cheese...which just confuses everyone who isn't lactose intolerant. You got the following: cheese nips, cheese logs, cheese balls, cheese puffs, cheese whizz. I like to get some of each then go home and put whizz on my nips, balls and log. This might be too much info. Carry on...
Pet aisle. They got 300 flavors of cat food but no...bird, squirrel, mouse head or stinky sock? I ate catfood once when I was tired and thought that the Tinder Viddels box was Cheerios's. Took just one milky taste to wake my ass up. Cats like this?! Thats what a dead sparrow tastes like?
Frozen foods. They got "new york brand" Texas toast. Well then, it ain't Texas toast, now is it? It's new york friken toast. And, why are all diet products triple chocolate fudge flavored? Shouldn't they be carrot or lettuce flavored. That's kinda like heroin flavored methadone.
I find it racist that we still have a section called "mexican food". So, I guess, if i see a mexican person I'm supposed to go up to them and say, "NO, NO Pedro. Your food is over there...". I did see an asian section with loads of noodles, so I think human rights are catching up. Someday, I have a dream of selections for Swedes and Canadians, with flaming meatballs and backbacon, smokes, and poutine (look it up, it's so gross that it makes blood sausage look edible).
Then again, black people complain that Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben don't represent them. But seriously, what do we have? The Quaker oats guy, Orville Riddenbacker and the brawny towel guy? A geek, a guy from outer space and a seventies porn star! And you see cool mags like Ebony, but no magazines called "Whitebread Dork" or "Cracker Slacker". I guess just that markets are against affirmative action.
I just passed by a woman with a loaf of wonder bread in her cart and some tins of Whisker Lickin's. I guess she's making catfood sandwiches tonight. And it reminds me I'm here to buy food.
They have spaghetti sauce that is labelled, "flavored with meat"... But what kind of meat? Snake meat? Rat meat? Human meat, like that finger found in the V8? One thing I do have to say: I tried Buffalo meat. Oh. My. God. That was so good! I just knew something as cute and cuddly and fuzzy, had to taste delicious!
"Little Debbie" snack cakes? I mean if she eats this stale sugary crap, she'd be really big fat toothless diabetic Debbie with pink eye and a few missing toes.
And I'm now standing in the market with a full basket of stuff I didn't need, and I totally forgot why I came here in the first place. Dammit...
the only rules are to never go grocery shopping when you're hungry, or just got paid: You'll never get out alive. Trust me. It's a deadly social trap. So, for today's blog, I shopped, and made notes! Exciting! I know!!
But, let me get this off of my chest right now. Parking.
Some of the worst drivers are trolling the parking lots of America's food stores. You see old bee hived women, or more to the point, a pair of knuckles on a huge steering wheel of a boat of a car, and I hear the theme from jaws as they moto about like an evil flying Dutchman of death. Oh, I have been hit by old people in these lots before, and I was walking. Fell over the back trunk of this Volvo, and the elderly gentleman had the nerve to give me the stink-eye! Like my plan was to stage dive his wax job! Parents say don't play in traffic: nay, don't walk about in shopping parking lots.
Shall I even go into those trucks, vans and hummers that park in those little "compact" labeled parking spaces? Some even park in two spots diagonally so you cant park next to them. Say, doesn't the market have raw eggs? Hmm...
On with the ritual of wrestling a plastic cart free from it's brethren! A quick scan of it's interior to make sure there are no used diapers, empty coffee cups, or a used corn dog stick inside, then onward through those amazing magical Star Trek self opening doors.
I'm told these door are to keep critters out. I don't see how. Anything over an ounce will open the doors. Maybe bees and deer ticks? I have seen stray dogs wandering markets before...
They got v8 juice and "healthy choice" v8 juice. Was there something unhealthy about the previous regular one? One rotten vegetable maybe. Or a finger from a bottling accident, who knows? Kind of makes you wanna go "healthy".
Lookie! Books for sale that promise to make you thin, tell your sex horoscope, gamble a winning shot machine or lotto, and a newspaper that says Bigfoot stole another wife. They sell a book of baby names for 10 bucks. Hey guess what you already got a huge one at home for free: the phone book.
Female hygiene. I think it's so unfair you ladies get a whole aisle to yourselves. guys have to share theirs with band aids, and motor oil. I view the huge selections of the douche, and i see lemon flavored, then i see vinegar Same flavors that go on fish. I'm just saying. I did see hand lotion in the "men's" section. I'm just saying.
It did however say on it, "best for skin".
And here's some odorless deodorant. Hey great, Ill smell like nothin', and it'll cost me 10 bucks. Wait, why do pregnancy tests come in multi packs? Don't people believe the first one, or is it the "ho" pack?
The cheese products are nasty. And screw the "cheese food", which isn't real cheese at all, but might be "real (tm)" cheese...which just confuses everyone who isn't lactose intolerant. You got the following: cheese nips, cheese logs, cheese balls, cheese puffs, cheese whizz. I like to get some of each then go home and put whizz on my nips, balls and log. This might be too much info. Carry on...
Pet aisle. They got 300 flavors of cat food but no...bird, squirrel, mouse head or stinky sock? I ate catfood once when I was tired and thought that the Tinder Viddels box was Cheerios's. Took just one milky taste to wake my ass up. Cats like this?! Thats what a dead sparrow tastes like?
Frozen foods. They got "new york brand" Texas toast. Well then, it ain't Texas toast, now is it? It's new york friken toast. And, why are all diet products triple chocolate fudge flavored? Shouldn't they be carrot or lettuce flavored. That's kinda like heroin flavored methadone.
I find it racist that we still have a section called "mexican food". So, I guess, if i see a mexican person I'm supposed to go up to them and say, "NO, NO Pedro. Your food is over there...". I did see an asian section with loads of noodles, so I think human rights are catching up. Someday, I have a dream of selections for Swedes and Canadians, with flaming meatballs and backbacon, smokes, and poutine (look it up, it's so gross that it makes blood sausage look edible).
Then again, black people complain that Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben don't represent them. But seriously, what do we have? The Quaker oats guy, Orville Riddenbacker and the brawny towel guy? A geek, a guy from outer space and a seventies porn star! And you see cool mags like Ebony, but no magazines called "Whitebread Dork" or "Cracker Slacker". I guess just that markets are against affirmative action.
I just passed by a woman with a loaf of wonder bread in her cart and some tins of Whisker Lickin's. I guess she's making catfood sandwiches tonight. And it reminds me I'm here to buy food.
They have spaghetti sauce that is labelled, "flavored with meat"... But what kind of meat? Snake meat? Rat meat? Human meat, like that finger found in the V8? One thing I do have to say: I tried Buffalo meat. Oh. My. God. That was so good! I just knew something as cute and cuddly and fuzzy, had to taste delicious!
"Little Debbie" snack cakes? I mean if she eats this stale sugary crap, she'd be really big fat toothless diabetic Debbie with pink eye and a few missing toes.
And I'm now standing in the market with a full basket of stuff I didn't need, and I totally forgot why I came here in the first place. Dammit...
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
The Kitten Sisters
I woke up and the two gorgeous ladies were no longer sleeping next to me. So I get up and walk to the kitchen and ask as I round the corner with a smile over inner joy, "Where's my girls?"...
And I am welcomed by the sight of a sleek black kitten sliding to a stop in front of me, quickly followed by a tiger striped kitten half the size, colliding next to her adopted sibling. They mew and prance as they await the morning meal and social event before I have to go to work.
And that's mainly what I've been doing the last month: Watching the two little charges, coming to their rescue while their original parents figure things out. You see, my friend Nikki and her roommate Christine got a kitten, simply because Christine wanted to have a cutie kitty face to rub. This sort of reminds me of those stupid high school girls that want to get pregnant just so they can have a living "doll" to dress up, as they think that would be so cool and cute.
Surprise. Taking care of living things is hard work.
Well, the tiny black kitten rightfully gravitated towards Nikki and her sparkling warm and open personality. So, Christine later got another kitten to be hers. And, guess what happened? When you're a person who can't illicit a real human emotion, pets tend to not wanna hang with you after a while. I suggest fish next time, they can't run away.
Anyway, somehow, thier apartment overlords somehow found out that these fur faces were illegally squatting at thier pad. So, of course, like usual I was called to come to the rescue, and have the kitten sisters live with me for a while.
At first I didn't want too, in fact I was very pissed about it and disn't really know why I was very resistant to the idea. I'd watched the tiny blackie for a week once: she ate my earphones. But, dammit, I did it for my brilliant friend Nikki, and the kittens came to me.
After a week, I knew exactly why I didn't want the sisters. It hit me when I was sitting in my chair, with two feline children asleep in my lap: I really fell in love with them and didn't want them to go. Maybe it was the times we played together with balls of foil or random items. Or the times I refereed their long wrestling matches. Usually the wee one would jump her older sister, and I'd either have to brake them apart when the "uncle" mewing started, to making sure that the fight was fair.
"Be nice to your little sister!", "Well, you're going to be pinned if you're the one who jumped her. She is bigger than you!"
Maybe it was the quiet time when they'd both be asleep in perfect little balls. One on the computer table resting her head on my typing hand, making me spam the letter "Q" all over my text, and the tiniest one curled up between my feet, as she was too young to jump as high as the chair seat.
Maybe it was the good time when they'd stalk me and pounce with such exuberance, that I laughed out loud.
Maybe it was the time the girls started to sleep next to me at night and I woke up to the sensation of an adolescent feline suckling my ear. Just like that, I had been adopted as their mommy.
The mornings were always wonderfully the same. Woke up, fed them, cleaned out the catbox while they sat next to each other and watched. Called them to me before I left for work and gave them both a hug. "..be good little ladies, okay? I'll be back in a few hours." I'd think about them while doing my job, and then be greeted with a cuddle fest when I came home and asked, "Were are my girls?!"
But the day I was hoping would never come, came. Nikki and Christine were going their separate ways, and Christine wanted to take her cat back. The sisters were going to be going away, and be split up, never to see each other again. And, I'll never see them again either. Even now, thinking about their tiny broken hearts makes me sad.
They'll never sleep next to each other, or feel the others presence. The elder sister was starting to really get into grooming her baby sibling, and even helping her cover her kitty poo with litter: she was teaching her how to be a lady. And the baby girl was growing up before my eyes so fast! A handfull became two, in no time. And she even managed her greatest feat, to leap upon the chair seat to join the rest of her family.
And that family is broken apart.
I know Nikki will take great care of the black one, now named "Gigi" (who, the entire time, I refused to call the original name Christine came up with. Who names a pretty girl cat "Chester"?!), and maybe I'll visit them soon. She's grown to quite a beautiful sleek lady. And to her credit, Nikki was as heart broken as I was, and understood.
The tiger striped baby kat... I have no real idea how she's doing. Last I heard, she was given to someone else. I think about the little mewing often, as I am still cleaning up the stray litter grains sprinkled about.
I think about both the kitten sisters, and how empty my place has become.
And I am welcomed by the sight of a sleek black kitten sliding to a stop in front of me, quickly followed by a tiger striped kitten half the size, colliding next to her adopted sibling. They mew and prance as they await the morning meal and social event before I have to go to work.
And that's mainly what I've been doing the last month: Watching the two little charges, coming to their rescue while their original parents figure things out. You see, my friend Nikki and her roommate Christine got a kitten, simply because Christine wanted to have a cutie kitty face to rub. This sort of reminds me of those stupid high school girls that want to get pregnant just so they can have a living "doll" to dress up, as they think that would be so cool and cute.
Surprise. Taking care of living things is hard work.
Well, the tiny black kitten rightfully gravitated towards Nikki and her sparkling warm and open personality. So, Christine later got another kitten to be hers. And, guess what happened? When you're a person who can't illicit a real human emotion, pets tend to not wanna hang with you after a while. I suggest fish next time, they can't run away.
Anyway, somehow, thier apartment overlords somehow found out that these fur faces were illegally squatting at thier pad. So, of course, like usual I was called to come to the rescue, and have the kitten sisters live with me for a while.
At first I didn't want too, in fact I was very pissed about it and disn't really know why I was very resistant to the idea. I'd watched the tiny blackie for a week once: she ate my earphones. But, dammit, I did it for my brilliant friend Nikki, and the kittens came to me.
After a week, I knew exactly why I didn't want the sisters. It hit me when I was sitting in my chair, with two feline children asleep in my lap: I really fell in love with them and didn't want them to go. Maybe it was the times we played together with balls of foil or random items. Or the times I refereed their long wrestling matches. Usually the wee one would jump her older sister, and I'd either have to brake them apart when the "uncle" mewing started, to making sure that the fight was fair.
"Be nice to your little sister!", "Well, you're going to be pinned if you're the one who jumped her. She is bigger than you!"
Maybe it was the quiet time when they'd both be asleep in perfect little balls. One on the computer table resting her head on my typing hand, making me spam the letter "Q" all over my text, and the tiniest one curled up between my feet, as she was too young to jump as high as the chair seat.
Maybe it was the good time when they'd stalk me and pounce with such exuberance, that I laughed out loud.
Maybe it was the time the girls started to sleep next to me at night and I woke up to the sensation of an adolescent feline suckling my ear. Just like that, I had been adopted as their mommy.
The mornings were always wonderfully the same. Woke up, fed them, cleaned out the catbox while they sat next to each other and watched. Called them to me before I left for work and gave them both a hug. "..be good little ladies, okay? I'll be back in a few hours." I'd think about them while doing my job, and then be greeted with a cuddle fest when I came home and asked, "Were are my girls?!"
But the day I was hoping would never come, came. Nikki and Christine were going their separate ways, and Christine wanted to take her cat back. The sisters were going to be going away, and be split up, never to see each other again. And, I'll never see them again either. Even now, thinking about their tiny broken hearts makes me sad.
They'll never sleep next to each other, or feel the others presence. The elder sister was starting to really get into grooming her baby sibling, and even helping her cover her kitty poo with litter: she was teaching her how to be a lady. And the baby girl was growing up before my eyes so fast! A handfull became two, in no time. And she even managed her greatest feat, to leap upon the chair seat to join the rest of her family.
And that family is broken apart.
I know Nikki will take great care of the black one, now named "Gigi" (who, the entire time, I refused to call the original name Christine came up with. Who names a pretty girl cat "Chester"?!), and maybe I'll visit them soon. She's grown to quite a beautiful sleek lady. And to her credit, Nikki was as heart broken as I was, and understood.
The tiger striped baby kat... I have no real idea how she's doing. Last I heard, she was given to someone else. I think about the little mewing often, as I am still cleaning up the stray litter grains sprinkled about.
I think about both the kitten sisters, and how empty my place has become.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Bad Movie Review: Disaster Movie
I haven't done a Bad Movie Review in such a long time. It's probably because, usually I love bad movies. I love the attempt at trying to be great on a shoestring budget. The overacting in place of talent. Bad costumes with the glimmer of hope that maybe, the audience wont notice.
But. Sometimes, there comes a movie that dares us to sit through it, while it slaps the intelligence out of you.
I saw Disaster Movie. And how well named this movie is! So, I am now planning to find who made this movie, and going back in time to make sure they can never be born and poison my mind like they did. I used to have such a beautiful mind.
For the sake of your own lives, I will now tell the entire movie, in the hope that you'll never have to suffer such as I did. Spoilers be damned, this is compassion that I do this for all of you.
While watching the movie, I noticed that the filmmakers were so much in love with their genius, that they actually edited in 30 second pauses after each joke, as to allow the people in the audience time to catch their breath and fully recover from the obvious conniption fit of laughter that must be issuing forth from them. How thoughtful. Although, it came off in the theater as mournful moment of silence in honor of the humor that just died. I did hear some children laugh at the two minute belching joke. I'm guessing these are the kind of children that laugh at their feet.
And so the motion picture begins:
The movie starts out with the audience disappointingly getting their hopes up that they wont be wasting two hours of their lives. It also begins with a 10000 BC sequence. the "comedy" starts with a falling into dinosaur poop joke. Our main character (i really can't say "hero", as this no name actor has the presence of wood glue). He runs through bushes, and gets into an American Gladiator joke for no apparent reason that goes on far too long. He then runs into Amy Whinehouse...
How do we know it's Amy Whinehouse? Because whenever a imitation of some kind of current pop culture bad imitation, SOMEone always says something like, "Hey! It's Amy Whinehouse!". To which the said identified person will say "It's me! Amy Whinehouse!!!"
Anyway, She goes on way too long and we got the joke minutes ago. She produces a crystal scull from between her legs (an ongoing theme, as you see), and says if this skull doesn't return to it's proper place, disaster will befall the earth...and our movie begins!
...as our hero (dammit...), wakes up from this dream. Yeah, it's a dream opening of the jokes the "writers couldn't figure out how to place in the rest of the movie. He brakes up with his girlfriend who leaves him and...I even started to taste a little vomit here as I recalled this moment...leaves him and takes the midget. That's the joke. And I'm guessing the producers thought this was such comedy gold, they have an entirely different midget joke later. But I digress...
The hero has a (joke) MTV sweet sixteen party for himself where (joke) he meets the guys from Superbad, where is best friend/funny black jive-ass sidekick does some (joke) Wanted shtick with the real Kim Kardashian and Carmen Electra where they (joke) wrestle in a dream sequence yet again, and then (joke) a High School Musical number plays out entire parody songs...
Interspersed within all this are more and more side jokes. I also realized that these...writers...were making "funnies" on the trailers of all these movies! They never saw any on these actual movies of these parodies they're doing! Oh, and you've just saw the biggest stars of the pic: A chick whose claim to fame is being rich and a boring sex tape, and Ms. Electra, who'll do anything for a cig and a ride home afterwards. Ask Dennis Rodman.
Back to the epic! The ground shakes and (joke) Cloverfield like destruction starts. So, Mr. Wood Glue, talentless Kim, Jive-ass Sidekick, and (joke) the preggo kid from Juno, try to find Wood Glues girlfriend and stay alive. By the way, we've wasted almost an hour of movie before ANY disasters happen, not counting the actual existence of this celluloid piece of crap. Wind and tornadoes. Yes. That's our marque named disaster.
While they're walking about in the streets trying to get... somewhere... They run into, (joke) the Hulk who loses his pants and (joke) gets hit by a cow, pass (Joke) "Hey! It's Hannah Montana! Who gets crushed by a meteor, who turns out to be (joke) "Hey! It's Miley Cyrus! Meet (joke) the princess from Enchanted, run into (joke) the Sex in the City girls, do the exact jokes from (joke) Don't Mess with the Zohan...
Que dream sequence numbah three! (joke) Jumper, and (joke) Prince Caspian. back to the waking world...
Then meet (joke) the Chipmunks.
Who sing not one, not two, but THREE full fricken songs! With shots of our protagonists enjoying them all. They attack and kill most our heroes, and the whole of human culture thanks them. But unfortunately, Wood-Glue, Jive-ass, and Enchanted escape, and are headed to the (joke) Night at the Museum, where Gluey's GF works. So our group (joke) steals Speed Racers Mach five (which looks nothing like the Mach 5) . Oh yeah, (joke) "Hey! it's Batman!"
Enter the museum where the girlfriend is rescued, produces a Crystal Skull from between HER thighs and says they need to replace the skull in this very museum to save the world. To get from A to B, (joke) Beowulf attacks them, Kung-fu Panda attacks them. And they get to the Crystal Skull room where...
oh Jesus. Midget number two. a tiny black Indiana Jones.
Okay, i'm sick of all this crap. needless to say, as if anyone cares, they replace the skull. and people pour out of the theater angry they've just spent hard earned cash that could have been spent way more satisfying, paying a hobo to beat you with a dead rat behind a dumpster.
the end.
And just as some kind of redemption to myself, I didn't pay to see this. No one should.
I have just saved your soul.
But. Sometimes, there comes a movie that dares us to sit through it, while it slaps the intelligence out of you.
I saw Disaster Movie. And how well named this movie is! So, I am now planning to find who made this movie, and going back in time to make sure they can never be born and poison my mind like they did. I used to have such a beautiful mind.
For the sake of your own lives, I will now tell the entire movie, in the hope that you'll never have to suffer such as I did. Spoilers be damned, this is compassion that I do this for all of you.
While watching the movie, I noticed that the filmmakers were so much in love with their genius, that they actually edited in 30 second pauses after each joke, as to allow the people in the audience time to catch their breath and fully recover from the obvious conniption fit of laughter that must be issuing forth from them. How thoughtful. Although, it came off in the theater as mournful moment of silence in honor of the humor that just died. I did hear some children laugh at the two minute belching joke. I'm guessing these are the kind of children that laugh at their feet.
And so the motion picture begins:
The movie starts out with the audience disappointingly getting their hopes up that they wont be wasting two hours of their lives. It also begins with a 10000 BC sequence. the "comedy" starts with a falling into dinosaur poop joke. Our main character (i really can't say "hero", as this no name actor has the presence of wood glue). He runs through bushes, and gets into an American Gladiator joke for no apparent reason that goes on far too long. He then runs into Amy Whinehouse...
How do we know it's Amy Whinehouse? Because whenever a imitation of some kind of current pop culture bad imitation, SOMEone always says something like, "Hey! It's Amy Whinehouse!". To which the said identified person will say "It's me! Amy Whinehouse!!!"
Anyway, She goes on way too long and we got the joke minutes ago. She produces a crystal scull from between her legs (an ongoing theme, as you see), and says if this skull doesn't return to it's proper place, disaster will befall the earth...and our movie begins!
...as our hero (dammit...), wakes up from this dream. Yeah, it's a dream opening of the jokes the "writers couldn't figure out how to place in the rest of the movie. He brakes up with his girlfriend who leaves him and...I even started to taste a little vomit here as I recalled this moment...leaves him and takes the midget. That's the joke. And I'm guessing the producers thought this was such comedy gold, they have an entirely different midget joke later. But I digress...
The hero has a (joke) MTV sweet sixteen party for himself where (joke) he meets the guys from Superbad, where is best friend/funny black jive-ass sidekick does some (joke) Wanted shtick with the real Kim Kardashian and Carmen Electra where they (joke) wrestle in a dream sequence yet again, and then (joke) a High School Musical number plays out entire parody songs...
Interspersed within all this are more and more side jokes. I also realized that these...writers...were making "funnies" on the trailers of all these movies! They never saw any on these actual movies of these parodies they're doing! Oh, and you've just saw the biggest stars of the pic: A chick whose claim to fame is being rich and a boring sex tape, and Ms. Electra, who'll do anything for a cig and a ride home afterwards. Ask Dennis Rodman.
Back to the epic! The ground shakes and (joke) Cloverfield like destruction starts. So, Mr. Wood Glue, talentless Kim, Jive-ass Sidekick, and (joke) the preggo kid from Juno, try to find Wood Glues girlfriend and stay alive. By the way, we've wasted almost an hour of movie before ANY disasters happen, not counting the actual existence of this celluloid piece of crap. Wind and tornadoes. Yes. That's our marque named disaster.
While they're walking about in the streets trying to get... somewhere... They run into, (joke) the Hulk who loses his pants and (joke) gets hit by a cow, pass (Joke) "Hey! It's Hannah Montana! Who gets crushed by a meteor, who turns out to be (joke) "Hey! It's Miley Cyrus! Meet (joke) the princess from Enchanted, run into (joke) the Sex in the City girls, do the exact jokes from (joke) Don't Mess with the Zohan...
Que dream sequence numbah three! (joke) Jumper, and (joke) Prince Caspian. back to the waking world...
Then meet (joke) the Chipmunks.
Who sing not one, not two, but THREE full fricken songs! With shots of our protagonists enjoying them all. They attack and kill most our heroes, and the whole of human culture thanks them. But unfortunately, Wood-Glue, Jive-ass, and Enchanted escape, and are headed to the (joke) Night at the Museum, where Gluey's GF works. So our group (joke) steals Speed Racers Mach five (which looks nothing like the Mach 5) . Oh yeah, (joke) "Hey! it's Batman!"
Enter the museum where the girlfriend is rescued, produces a Crystal Skull from between HER thighs and says they need to replace the skull in this very museum to save the world. To get from A to B, (joke) Beowulf attacks them, Kung-fu Panda attacks them. And they get to the Crystal Skull room where...
oh Jesus. Midget number two. a tiny black Indiana Jones.
Okay, i'm sick of all this crap. needless to say, as if anyone cares, they replace the skull. and people pour out of the theater angry they've just spent hard earned cash that could have been spent way more satisfying, paying a hobo to beat you with a dead rat behind a dumpster.
the end.
And just as some kind of redemption to myself, I didn't pay to see this. No one should.
I have just saved your soul.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Secrets of the Male Species
Seeing as that I don't have many guy friends and don't fully subscribe to the male-mind set of misogynistic buffoonery, I feel I might be the only outlet to the other half of the human race for the secrets of the male mind.
And seeing as i'm totally clueless about females of any type. I'm kinda hoping for an information exchange.
yeah. I'm a traitor to my gender. But, we're guys. We can get into a fight about something, totally forget about it when we see a nice looking girl, then forget what it was all about and go have a beer and talk sports, or boobs, or whatever.
1) the man-hug
It's a written rule from back in Roman times that a man to man hug last exactly 2 seconds or less...and no more. You are not allowed to swoon, cry, close eyes, or sigh. You place your hands, closed fingers, in the middle of the back and pat continuously (i.e. no rubbing!!!), and you don't place your chin on the others guys shoulder. You also do not stroke his hair.
2) "WOOOOOT!!!"
When humans are just babies, to get attention, they would cry. While women grow out of this, males evolve the screeching wail, into one word: "wooooooooooot!" This is usually answered with a pack mentality amongst nearby males, and accompanied with the pumping of a fist into the air. Don't believe me? Go to a MTV event at a beach and watch when a bikinied girl walks by. Watch a sports event of any type. Witness a drunken frat party. It's a species war cry that transends all other drives. I think it's the same urge that fuels dogs to occasionally eat their own poop.
3) Boxers or briefs?
Actually, it's three choices: Tighty Whities, boxer-briefs, and boxers.
Tighty Whities should only be worn by pre-teens, and that's it. End of story. If you date any guy, and you find out he's wearing white "panities", he needs to grow up. No guy looks good in tighty-whities. Even those male models you see in wal-mart and target ads look...odd, with their perfect hair and flashing smiles as two guys are wearing nothing but white Haynes and sharing a pillow fight. And if you notice, they're as smooth as a Ken doll. Somehing to think about.
Boxers. I just don't get those. It's like wearing an ass cape with a waistband. Whats even worse is the guys trying to look "street" by wearing low cut pants exposing some very rumpled boxers. Not a sexy sight, many women tell me. And wearing the voluminous boxers is like throwing a hot dog in a shoebox: no protection in any shape or form. Bits get crushed and are all a-sway in very unflattering ways.
Now the way to go for all guys are the Boxer-briefs: the hybrid of all the forms of pantinones! has the security of the thightys without being that tight, and the coverage of boxers without looking like you're wearing your dads underwear.
Oh, and never buy white in any form. Men can't maintain a whiteness in any cloth. The most we can manage is a dull yellow.
And whats with the 1000's of panties that women get to choose from in specialized stores? Unlimited designs and cuts! What we guys get is a 3-pack on sale at Target.
4) An ongoing list of words no man should use, ever.
Garment --- Periwinkle --- Magical --- Supple --- Duvet --- Precious --- Faaaabulous --- Adore --- Lavender --- Mommy or Daddy --- Scootch --- Weewee --- "teeheehee" ---
5) Urinal commandments
No excessive or undue conversation in the restroom. Keep eyes forward whenever possible, if you have to, go into a trance and stare at the tile in front of you, or admire the urinal cake intensely Always close the stall door, even when going #1. If you have an option, never use the urinal right next to a man who is already "underway". Never talk to another man while your junk is hanging out. Never discuss shape. Never say "ooooooh...impressive...".
I'll be leaking more information soon. Every pun intended.
And seeing as i'm totally clueless about females of any type. I'm kinda hoping for an information exchange.
yeah. I'm a traitor to my gender. But, we're guys. We can get into a fight about something, totally forget about it when we see a nice looking girl, then forget what it was all about and go have a beer and talk sports, or boobs, or whatever.
1) the man-hug
It's a written rule from back in Roman times that a man to man hug last exactly 2 seconds or less...and no more. You are not allowed to swoon, cry, close eyes, or sigh. You place your hands, closed fingers, in the middle of the back and pat continuously (i.e. no rubbing!!!), and you don't place your chin on the others guys shoulder. You also do not stroke his hair.
2) "WOOOOOT!!!"
When humans are just babies, to get attention, they would cry. While women grow out of this, males evolve the screeching wail, into one word: "wooooooooooot!" This is usually answered with a pack mentality amongst nearby males, and accompanied with the pumping of a fist into the air. Don't believe me? Go to a MTV event at a beach and watch when a bikinied girl walks by. Watch a sports event of any type. Witness a drunken frat party. It's a species war cry that transends all other drives. I think it's the same urge that fuels dogs to occasionally eat their own poop.
3) Boxers or briefs?
Actually, it's three choices: Tighty Whities, boxer-briefs, and boxers.
Tighty Whities should only be worn by pre-teens, and that's it. End of story. If you date any guy, and you find out he's wearing white "panities", he needs to grow up. No guy looks good in tighty-whities. Even those male models you see in wal-mart and target ads look...odd, with their perfect hair and flashing smiles as two guys are wearing nothing but white Haynes and sharing a pillow fight. And if you notice, they're as smooth as a Ken doll. Somehing to think about.
Boxers. I just don't get those. It's like wearing an ass cape with a waistband. Whats even worse is the guys trying to look "street" by wearing low cut pants exposing some very rumpled boxers. Not a sexy sight, many women tell me. And wearing the voluminous boxers is like throwing a hot dog in a shoebox: no protection in any shape or form. Bits get crushed and are all a-sway in very unflattering ways.
Now the way to go for all guys are the Boxer-briefs: the hybrid of all the forms of pantinones! has the security of the thightys without being that tight, and the coverage of boxers without looking like you're wearing your dads underwear.
Oh, and never buy white in any form. Men can't maintain a whiteness in any cloth. The most we can manage is a dull yellow.
And whats with the 1000's of panties that women get to choose from in specialized stores? Unlimited designs and cuts! What we guys get is a 3-pack on sale at Target.
4) An ongoing list of words no man should use, ever.
Garment --- Periwinkle --- Magical --- Supple --- Duvet --- Precious --- Faaaabulous --- Adore --- Lavender --- Mommy or Daddy --- Scootch --- Weewee --- "teeheehee" ---
5) Urinal commandments
No excessive or undue conversation in the restroom. Keep eyes forward whenever possible, if you have to, go into a trance and stare at the tile in front of you, or admire the urinal cake intensely Always close the stall door, even when going #1. If you have an option, never use the urinal right next to a man who is already "underway". Never talk to another man while your junk is hanging out. Never discuss shape. Never say "ooooooh...impressive...".
I'll be leaking more information soon. Every pun intended.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Spider-man vs. My Mom.
My first comic book was Giant Sized Spider-man Man-Thing. Saw it at a magazine stand in a California Ralph's and I had to have it. That was my first foray into the whole sequentual art scene (as those who are embarrassed to admit they read "funny books" will say they "invest" in).
Not gonna lie to you, that was my love afair with comics. Like your first crush. I think at that point, I saw more than the here and now. I started to wonder how Peter Parker was going to get out of that mess and what will happen next week. Who is this Mary Jane and Gwen Stacy? The Lizard? He's brilliant! That's no Batman TV series costume, that's some f'ed up threads Parkers sporting there! I was quite tiny and young, so I'm going to assume I thought, "f'ed up".
(I still have that comic too!)
My mom so didn't want to by me anything, especially a comic book like that. But I was relentless. Only later did I experience how much she detested that decision.
I was so excited when the Cheerios cereal I was eating advertised that you could get a free...yes! FREE!!!..Official Spider-man Web-shooter. This, was like seeing the face of GOD! It was Official, and it was just like Peter Parker kit bashed it in his room at Aunt Mays house! It was blue and red, with...er...a spider-man face on the strap...and...okay, it had a suction cup dart with a plastic web strip and a 2 foot line. Not very accurate, I know. And it wouldn't stuck on walls, nor support my weight, but to a 6 year old Spider-fan...it was pure kiddie cocaine.
And it was free: for 6 proof of purchase and $5.95 shipping and handling. Well, shitcakes, I need to eats me tons of that cereal! I ate that oaty crap as much as I could, and ate, and ate, and ate. My mom wondered why the milk was always running out and the sink was filled with bowls and spoons. And ants, from all that sugar I was tossing about the kitchen. I started to hate that cereal and the happy yellow box, but, If evil had to be smited, I needed the tools to do that! I needed that web-shooter asap!
If I was only stronger of stomach and fortitude, I could have probably choked down 6 more boxes of that crap to get a second web-shooter. You know...backup. And my Mom was starting not only loathe Spider-man (I was practicing daily bouncing off of things and those Spider-poses), but my need for. More. Cereal.
Thank you Spider-man for my spider-diabetes!
When I finally had enough for one shooter, I begged anyone who would hear for the $5.95 and a stamp. All I had to do was wait a few days to get my bounty...not realize what "up to 6 to 8 weeks" really meant to a 6 year old. That, my friend, is an eternity.
Daily, I asked my mom if the Web-shooters arrived. This is what drove her mad, I think. Because, I had to ask, every single day, My spider sense was tingling every afternoon, and that must mean that mom HAS to check the mail! After a bit of time, the headache induced fire stare at me, meant I shouldn't ask anything anymore.
I had to make time pass, so I practiced my moves. I practiced my web-shooting poses with the two inner fingers tapping the center palm. Making sure of the accuracy and proud of the tight strain of the forearm as I extended my hand. Doing research on the types of webs i would be able to make (if it were all real), and building myself a spider utility belt out of cardboard, markers, and masking tape.
OhMyGod!!! Did I forget to ask mom to check the ma...
"NO!!!! STOP ASKING!!!"
So, enveloped in my Dojo of the Spider...the day finally came...four months later. It came! And as my mom threw it at my head, I saw it was lovinging packaged in a brown cardboard container with no writing on it. Well, of course! If it came straight from Peter Parker, he wouldn't just write on it "Caution web-Shooter" across it. Secret Identity, y'know. He can trust me, and yes, he's very clever!
When the box was opened, it was magnificent. All plastic with bad "engrish" instructions and a arm strap too small for even a child hand. Okay, so the dart wasn't activated from the center palm, but it was the coolest thing in the entire universe. And I couldn't wait to take it to school and show the guys tomorrow! I will not pimp it and put it on today. Nay. it will be more awesome at school, when I will then impress the kids with my spider-skills.
The next morning, I was up so early, it was still dark outside. Skipped breakfast as it turned my stomach now, delicately packed and maintained my crime fighting tools in my backpack, and was drooped off at school. The wait for recess was intolerable.
When the bell rang, I gathered all the kids and opened my backpack...and proceeded to strap on the official Parker made web-shooter. It was like a slow montage from a summer movie: straps went into place, the 2 feet of twine was carefully unraveled, the single suction cup dart was inserted and the release lever cocked back, with a musical score rivaling John Williams played in my head. I had a friend place an empty juice box 3 feet away and stand back! To moved to position and trust out my arm with the two inner fingers hovering over my palm, ready for the first test run of my first superpower. Just press down and... Thwipp...
A large hard was clasped upon my device before I could say anything and i was hastily hauled into the principals office. Looking down as I sat, the Web-shooter was...missing!
Apparently, they thought this pen spring controlled Nerf dart that can only shoot, no, more like fall, 2 feet, was a dangerous murderous device. It was to be confiscated.
I was devastated. When I went home, I waited at the door for my mom to come home. She would get my web-shooter from those neanderthals! They were impeding Justice! My mom will go for bat for me! She knew how important this all is...
When she came through the door, I speedingly told her the fate of the Web-shooter. She gave off a scary smile. I was so cold...
"Yes, your teacher called me. I told them to keep it. maybe you will learn your lesson, hmm?"
What frikin' lesson?!
Probably a teacher took my shooter and gave it to her kids! I think this was the point where me and my mom deviated from each other. Decades later, it still bothers me. Can you tell?
Over the years, I became Peter Parker, hapless romantic, born loser with a heart of gold. My mom stopped talking to me, but, Spider-man never left me.
And then, I saw this at a Goodwill...
Not gonna lie to you, that was my love afair with comics. Like your first crush. I think at that point, I saw more than the here and now. I started to wonder how Peter Parker was going to get out of that mess and what will happen next week. Who is this Mary Jane and Gwen Stacy? The Lizard? He's brilliant! That's no Batman TV series costume, that's some f'ed up threads Parkers sporting there! I was quite tiny and young, so I'm going to assume I thought, "f'ed up".
(I still have that comic too!)My mom so didn't want to by me anything, especially a comic book like that. But I was relentless. Only later did I experience how much she detested that decision.
I was so excited when the Cheerios cereal I was eating advertised that you could get a free...yes! FREE!!!..Official Spider-man Web-shooter. This, was like seeing the face of GOD! It was Official, and it was just like Peter Parker kit bashed it in his room at Aunt Mays house! It was blue and red, with...er...a spider-man face on the strap...and...okay, it had a suction cup dart with a plastic web strip and a 2 foot line. Not very accurate, I know. And it wouldn't stuck on walls, nor support my weight, but to a 6 year old Spider-fan...it was pure kiddie cocaine.
And it was free: for 6 proof of purchase and $5.95 shipping and handling. Well, shitcakes, I need to eats me tons of that cereal! I ate that oaty crap as much as I could, and ate, and ate, and ate. My mom wondered why the milk was always running out and the sink was filled with bowls and spoons. And ants, from all that sugar I was tossing about the kitchen. I started to hate that cereal and the happy yellow box, but, If evil had to be smited, I needed the tools to do that! I needed that web-shooter asap!
If I was only stronger of stomach and fortitude, I could have probably choked down 6 more boxes of that crap to get a second web-shooter. You know...backup. And my Mom was starting not only loathe Spider-man (I was practicing daily bouncing off of things and those Spider-poses), but my need for. More. Cereal.
Thank you Spider-man for my spider-diabetes!
When I finally had enough for one shooter, I begged anyone who would hear for the $5.95 and a stamp. All I had to do was wait a few days to get my bounty...not realize what "up to 6 to 8 weeks" really meant to a 6 year old. That, my friend, is an eternity.
Daily, I asked my mom if the Web-shooters arrived. This is what drove her mad, I think. Because, I had to ask, every single day, My spider sense was tingling every afternoon, and that must mean that mom HAS to check the mail! After a bit of time, the headache induced fire stare at me, meant I shouldn't ask anything anymore.
I had to make time pass, so I practiced my moves. I practiced my web-shooting poses with the two inner fingers tapping the center palm. Making sure of the accuracy and proud of the tight strain of the forearm as I extended my hand. Doing research on the types of webs i would be able to make (if it were all real), and building myself a spider utility belt out of cardboard, markers, and masking tape.
OhMyGod!!! Did I forget to ask mom to check the ma...
"NO!!!! STOP ASKING!!!"
So, enveloped in my Dojo of the Spider...the day finally came...four months later. It came! And as my mom threw it at my head, I saw it was lovinging packaged in a brown cardboard container with no writing on it. Well, of course! If it came straight from Peter Parker, he wouldn't just write on it "Caution web-Shooter" across it. Secret Identity, y'know. He can trust me, and yes, he's very clever!
When the box was opened, it was magnificent. All plastic with bad "engrish" instructions and a arm strap too small for even a child hand. Okay, so the dart wasn't activated from the center palm, but it was the coolest thing in the entire universe. And I couldn't wait to take it to school and show the guys tomorrow! I will not pimp it and put it on today. Nay. it will be more awesome at school, when I will then impress the kids with my spider-skills.
The next morning, I was up so early, it was still dark outside. Skipped breakfast as it turned my stomach now, delicately packed and maintained my crime fighting tools in my backpack, and was drooped off at school. The wait for recess was intolerable.
When the bell rang, I gathered all the kids and opened my backpack...and proceeded to strap on the official Parker made web-shooter. It was like a slow montage from a summer movie: straps went into place, the 2 feet of twine was carefully unraveled, the single suction cup dart was inserted and the release lever cocked back, with a musical score rivaling John Williams played in my head. I had a friend place an empty juice box 3 feet away and stand back! To moved to position and trust out my arm with the two inner fingers hovering over my palm, ready for the first test run of my first superpower. Just press down and... Thwipp...
A large hard was clasped upon my device before I could say anything and i was hastily hauled into the principals office. Looking down as I sat, the Web-shooter was...missing!
Apparently, they thought this pen spring controlled Nerf dart that can only shoot, no, more like fall, 2 feet, was a dangerous murderous device. It was to be confiscated.
I was devastated. When I went home, I waited at the door for my mom to come home. She would get my web-shooter from those neanderthals! They were impeding Justice! My mom will go for bat for me! She knew how important this all is...
When she came through the door, I speedingly told her the fate of the Web-shooter. She gave off a scary smile. I was so cold...
"Yes, your teacher called me. I told them to keep it. maybe you will learn your lesson, hmm?"
What frikin' lesson?!
Probably a teacher took my shooter and gave it to her kids! I think this was the point where me and my mom deviated from each other. Decades later, it still bothers me. Can you tell?
Over the years, I became Peter Parker, hapless romantic, born loser with a heart of gold. My mom stopped talking to me, but, Spider-man never left me.
And then, I saw this at a Goodwill...
It's not the same hokey piece of crap from way back when, I can't even find a picture of it, maybe it did kill a kid! But it is an echo of my lost childhood friend. And, hell yeah, I put it on! But it stays in it's box until such extreme heroics are needed.
With great power, comes great responsibility. That's what Peter taught me...
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Back in the Saddle, for Kinda the First time
"...On behalf of the group and me-self, I hope we pass the audition." - John Lennon on the rooftop of Abbey Road.
I am not good at dating.
I don't have the chops, or the experience. And many times, I don't even know that the get together of a man and woman can be construed as a "date". What is a date? God, I just wanna meet people, and it's like an audition for a part that i haven't even read the script for.
I never dated. Oh, I've had relationships and girlfriends, but a date with a phone call, and a pick up at the ladies house, and the dinner and a movie with the capper peck on the check, kind? NO. Only seen it in movies where it's usually Wally or the "Beve", and they bring a box with a flower in it to pin on the breast of a young adolescent. They also wear sweaters with arm patches and the word "condom" doesn't exist yet. Probably not the best role models.
Usually I just happen to fall into relationships. It just happens. And I wake up with a "okay...what the hell just happened" puzzled look on my face next to a beautiful girl with a smile (for the moment, seemingly), and I find we're going to the mall together. Checking out Spencers Gifts and Hot Topic while I hold her purse.
...and as I'm holding her purse like it's a bag of dog poo, I see other guys standing about with similar bags held aloft and looking lost. No, not lost, but wondering "what the hell just happened?" It's like I was the last to know we're "together". I am so clueless when it comes to this crap.
And I know once again, I skipped the "date" part.
Y'know, let me take that back. I DID go on a date! Once. And as I remember it now, there is a reason why my mind chose to lose that information.
looong long ago in a far away land of Whittier, California, I was working at a pizza place and finally got the testosterone to ask this girl out that wasn't a buddy to begin with. She was young and pretty with long blond hair, and unknown to me, quite an attitude. I was damn surprised she said yes!
I picked her up at her place and it felt like a real "Leave it to Beaver" Date! She dressed better than usual, and I was a gentleman and opened the door for her even though I thought it was cliche'. I told her where I was taking her to dinner a really really nice Italian restaurant...
When She said she didn't want to go that far, and wanted to eat at the place we worked. Expensive Italian food, or a chinsy pizza parlor where all the co-workers will think I'm the cheapest dumbass date in the entire world. Thank god we didn't work at a McDonalds. And the "dinner" was quite fast and relatively talk free. Why did she say yes?
Afterwards, she invited me back to her place, (a nervous "score!" would be applied here, like I know what to do next, right?). So what did we do, you little perverts? I'll tell you in all the sexy detail: She brought out a photo album filled with Polaroids of the guys she's really lusting after for me to see how awesome he was. Why did she say yes?!
Next on the agenda? Me saying good night. I never know when the kiss, or hug, or handshake is ever applied and I was so uncertain what to do...but I needn't bother. She asked me since I was going, could I drop her off at the pool hall Mr. Awesome hung out at. You know me. I'm a dumbass. Of course I did.
Why did she say yes? I found out later she said yes, because her friends told her, "eww. Don't go out with him...", and she wanted to piss them off. And so my mind sealed the records of that caper ASAP. No dates for you, buddy.
Leap almost two decades later: I'm now dating again, and have NO clue what the hell I'm doing! I met this girl and we talked for a long time, I finally ask her out and she says, to my surprise once again, yes. She's funny and intelligent, and we talked about so many comfortable ideas, it seems like it'll be a good time had by all! We make a date to met at the Starbucks and confirm which one, since theirs 18 per block by law in Vancouver.
I arrive all nice and neat, I look fantastic since I don't have that High School fatness and nerdy grr-animal clothes. This is my FIRST date! The big leap in the deep end! And I get to Starbucks an hour early.
When she didn't show up the first hour, I figured, "oh women and getting gussied up". I drank that cup of tea slow because I had to get a loan to afford the "Grande". When Hour two showed it's head with no one there, I was trying so hard to look like I wanted to be there as a solo. Read the coffee menus a billion times and attempted to look casual instead of disappointed level 10. Hour three. maybe she was attacked by Yetis and had to carve her way out of the stomach of the King of Snowmen with the jawbone of a steer found within his gut. Then, fight her way to a cliff side and leap off into a torrent of rapids, trying her best to get within a cell phone area to make a call to me saying she'll be a little late.
Called it at four hours and pronounced the date, D.O.A.. I also felt a bit pathetic for staying that long. Hope and stupidity ride the same road it seems. Never heard from her again...
Why did she say yes? Deja vu all over again
Later I met Catt and we had a good sushi lunch. During the fried calamari, I was of course, clueless as to be expected, but this time, I so needed to know:
"Uh, Catt...can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, shoot..."
"...are we on...a date?"
I am not good at dating.
I don't have the chops, or the experience. And many times, I don't even know that the get together of a man and woman can be construed as a "date". What is a date? God, I just wanna meet people, and it's like an audition for a part that i haven't even read the script for.
I never dated. Oh, I've had relationships and girlfriends, but a date with a phone call, and a pick up at the ladies house, and the dinner and a movie with the capper peck on the check, kind? NO. Only seen it in movies where it's usually Wally or the "Beve", and they bring a box with a flower in it to pin on the breast of a young adolescent. They also wear sweaters with arm patches and the word "condom" doesn't exist yet. Probably not the best role models.
Usually I just happen to fall into relationships. It just happens. And I wake up with a "okay...what the hell just happened" puzzled look on my face next to a beautiful girl with a smile (for the moment, seemingly), and I find we're going to the mall together. Checking out Spencers Gifts and Hot Topic while I hold her purse.
...and as I'm holding her purse like it's a bag of dog poo, I see other guys standing about with similar bags held aloft and looking lost. No, not lost, but wondering "what the hell just happened?" It's like I was the last to know we're "together". I am so clueless when it comes to this crap.
And I know once again, I skipped the "date" part.
Y'know, let me take that back. I DID go on a date! Once. And as I remember it now, there is a reason why my mind chose to lose that information.
looong long ago in a far away land of Whittier, California, I was working at a pizza place and finally got the testosterone to ask this girl out that wasn't a buddy to begin with. She was young and pretty with long blond hair, and unknown to me, quite an attitude. I was damn surprised she said yes!
I picked her up at her place and it felt like a real "Leave it to Beaver" Date! She dressed better than usual, and I was a gentleman and opened the door for her even though I thought it was cliche'. I told her where I was taking her to dinner a really really nice Italian restaurant...
When She said she didn't want to go that far, and wanted to eat at the place we worked. Expensive Italian food, or a chinsy pizza parlor where all the co-workers will think I'm the cheapest dumbass date in the entire world. Thank god we didn't work at a McDonalds. And the "dinner" was quite fast and relatively talk free. Why did she say yes?
Afterwards, she invited me back to her place, (a nervous "score!" would be applied here, like I know what to do next, right?). So what did we do, you little perverts? I'll tell you in all the sexy detail: She brought out a photo album filled with Polaroids of the guys she's really lusting after for me to see how awesome he was. Why did she say yes?!
Next on the agenda? Me saying good night. I never know when the kiss, or hug, or handshake is ever applied and I was so uncertain what to do...but I needn't bother. She asked me since I was going, could I drop her off at the pool hall Mr. Awesome hung out at. You know me. I'm a dumbass. Of course I did.
Why did she say yes? I found out later she said yes, because her friends told her, "eww. Don't go out with him...", and she wanted to piss them off. And so my mind sealed the records of that caper ASAP. No dates for you, buddy.
Leap almost two decades later: I'm now dating again, and have NO clue what the hell I'm doing! I met this girl and we talked for a long time, I finally ask her out and she says, to my surprise once again, yes. She's funny and intelligent, and we talked about so many comfortable ideas, it seems like it'll be a good time had by all! We make a date to met at the Starbucks and confirm which one, since theirs 18 per block by law in Vancouver.
I arrive all nice and neat, I look fantastic since I don't have that High School fatness and nerdy grr-animal clothes. This is my FIRST date! The big leap in the deep end! And I get to Starbucks an hour early.
When she didn't show up the first hour, I figured, "oh women and getting gussied up". I drank that cup of tea slow because I had to get a loan to afford the "Grande". When Hour two showed it's head with no one there, I was trying so hard to look like I wanted to be there as a solo. Read the coffee menus a billion times and attempted to look casual instead of disappointed level 10. Hour three. maybe she was attacked by Yetis and had to carve her way out of the stomach of the King of Snowmen with the jawbone of a steer found within his gut. Then, fight her way to a cliff side and leap off into a torrent of rapids, trying her best to get within a cell phone area to make a call to me saying she'll be a little late.
Called it at four hours and pronounced the date, D.O.A.. I also felt a bit pathetic for staying that long. Hope and stupidity ride the same road it seems. Never heard from her again...
Why did she say yes? Deja vu all over again
Later I met Catt and we had a good sushi lunch. During the fried calamari, I was of course, clueless as to be expected, but this time, I so needed to know:
"Uh, Catt...can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, shoot..."
"...are we on...a date?"
Saturday, July 05, 2008
The Lost Band Journal
A while back, a few of the missing months in fact, the project was started to clean out my life.
I probably threw away about 87% of my life. Old letter, picture, clippings, magazines, books, pogs, crap...if I picked it up, and saw no need for it right at that moment, I knew I wouldn't ever. Goodwill so made out like a bandit with me. Now I need a bed, a couch, and a pony named Frank.
Anyway, I found quite a few things I thought had long ago disappeared. One being another Band Journal. As I've stated in blogs of past, this was something I did for the fliers of the current bands I was in. I hated the blase fliers with just "we're awesome!!! KICKASS!!! Come to da SHOW, Beeotch!!!" that was sooo normal...
I wrote these to have an edge that the others didn't. This one never saw print:
___________________________________________________________________
Earwax isn't flammable. that must be the reason why you can't just buy earwax candles - the damn stuff simply will not burn. So all of you who are looking in that direction for a miraculous alternative energy source can just relax, cause you need a blow torch to make ear wax burn...
This is the type of knowledge one can acquire when one's television is on the fritz. In fact, a plethora of discoveries awaits the individual whose attention is no longer anchored to the tube, which recently came the case with us, as our TV joined our refrigerator and our microwave in the mysterious major appliance die-off.
In the interest of saving millions of American tax dollars in the form of government research grants, here's a partial list of some of the breakthroughs the band has made in the absence of television:
1) Over a long period of time, belly button lint can be formed into comfortable socks...
2) There was a time when our couch was white...
3) If you take a piece of aluminum foil, wrap it around the head of a match, then light it with another match, the foil-match will shoot across the room and burn your stereo system right to the ground..
4) Never, never, never, never, never ever look at the underside of a coffee table.
See you at the show...
_________________________________________________________________
I don't know. It works, I guess...
I probably threw away about 87% of my life. Old letter, picture, clippings, magazines, books, pogs, crap...if I picked it up, and saw no need for it right at that moment, I knew I wouldn't ever. Goodwill so made out like a bandit with me. Now I need a bed, a couch, and a pony named Frank.
Anyway, I found quite a few things I thought had long ago disappeared. One being another Band Journal. As I've stated in blogs of past, this was something I did for the fliers of the current bands I was in. I hated the blase fliers with just "we're awesome!!! KICKASS!!! Come to da SHOW, Beeotch!!!" that was sooo normal...
I wrote these to have an edge that the others didn't. This one never saw print:
___________________________________________________________________
Earwax isn't flammable. that must be the reason why you can't just buy earwax candles - the damn stuff simply will not burn. So all of you who are looking in that direction for a miraculous alternative energy source can just relax, cause you need a blow torch to make ear wax burn...
This is the type of knowledge one can acquire when one's television is on the fritz. In fact, a plethora of discoveries awaits the individual whose attention is no longer anchored to the tube, which recently came the case with us, as our TV joined our refrigerator and our microwave in the mysterious major appliance die-off.
In the interest of saving millions of American tax dollars in the form of government research grants, here's a partial list of some of the breakthroughs the band has made in the absence of television:
1) Over a long period of time, belly button lint can be formed into comfortable socks...
2) There was a time when our couch was white...
3) If you take a piece of aluminum foil, wrap it around the head of a match, then light it with another match, the foil-match will shoot across the room and burn your stereo system right to the ground..
4) Never, never, never, never, never ever look at the underside of a coffee table.
See you at the show...
_________________________________________________________________
I don't know. It works, I guess...
Friday, July 04, 2008
Celebration of the 4th, er...1st
I am so not going to blog about Independence day.
Not the day, not the movie (which was awesome!), and not the Broadway play with Tyra Banks as John Adams. You spend tons of cash on exploding devices that last a millisecond. You have to watch the fact that at any time during this happy celebration, you might get your lips blown clean off by a "powder malfunction". And what real really pissed me off, was when you got that big ass box of JUMBO fireworks that cost the same as a Nintendo Wii, that advertised 35 "exciting fireworks!!!", 25 of them was two boxes of sparklers (one silver, one gold, both look the same), a package of ground snakes (i.e. slow ash piles), and the smoking cabin (same effect, and excitement, as burning a pencil.).
And how can I be all "weeee! we live in the land of the free!", when gas cost so much, it's now cheaper to buy a horse because, according to Google, hay is less per gallon. I miss having to think about, plan, take out a loan, on taking a spontaneous trip.
So instead I celebrated July 1st.
Now that is an important day! Why, you may ask? That was the momentous day that Dr. Henry Walton Jones Jr. was born in 1899. "Indiana" to his friends. And having enjoyed his latest Docu-drama May 25th, I think it was time to celebrate something with more substance. And to do that... I decided that I would eat nothing but Indiana Jones-branded foods all day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There will be no time for love, Dr. Jones, because I have a digestive system I need to strain to its breaking point.
Yesterday, for breakfast, I started out with the official Indiana Jones cereal. Essentially the most bargain basement Cocoa Puffs (i hate Cocoa Puffs. This is for science though), the Indy cereal also had some of the vaguest cereal marshmallows I've ever seen:
Not the day, not the movie (which was awesome!), and not the Broadway play with Tyra Banks as John Adams. You spend tons of cash on exploding devices that last a millisecond. You have to watch the fact that at any time during this happy celebration, you might get your lips blown clean off by a "powder malfunction". And what real really pissed me off, was when you got that big ass box of JUMBO fireworks that cost the same as a Nintendo Wii, that advertised 35 "exciting fireworks!!!", 25 of them was two boxes of sparklers (one silver, one gold, both look the same), a package of ground snakes (i.e. slow ash piles), and the smoking cabin (same effect, and excitement, as burning a pencil.).
And how can I be all "weeee! we live in the land of the free!", when gas cost so much, it's now cheaper to buy a horse because, according to Google, hay is less per gallon. I miss having to think about, plan, take out a loan, on taking a spontaneous trip.
So instead I celebrated July 1st.
Now that is an important day! Why, you may ask? That was the momentous day that Dr. Henry Walton Jones Jr. was born in 1899. "Indiana" to his friends. And having enjoyed his latest Docu-drama May 25th, I think it was time to celebrate something with more substance. And to do that... I decided that I would eat nothing but Indiana Jones-branded foods all day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There will be no time for love, Dr. Jones, because I have a digestive system I need to strain to its breaking point.
Yesterday, for breakfast, I started out with the official Indiana Jones cereal. Essentially the most bargain basement Cocoa Puffs (i hate Cocoa Puffs. This is for science though), the Indy cereal also had some of the vaguest cereal marshmallows I've ever seen:
And since there's no Indiana Jones 2% Milk of the Gods, I had to eat it dry.
Next up, I had Eggo Toaster Sticks branded with an Indiana Jones DVD giveaway offer.
Me? i'm wishing they also made an Indiana Jones Maple Syrup of Sargasso Sky Pirates, because these things were bland and dry. But at least I didn't feel like throwing up yet, so I count myself ahead. I already had the DVD, duh! Hell, I was Indiana Jones for Halloween as a child, and my grandfather gave me his real hat and whip! Vintage! Not those Don Post boxed costumes you find at Fred Meyers or Ralph's, with a plastic face mask and a mosaic of Dr. Jones adventures on the satiny cloth. I stopped short of the fake beard, because I knew I'd just look homeless, or a psychopathic Emmett Kelly hobo that you'd find ranting behind a liquor store threatening people with a broken car antenna. But I digress...
For lunch, I splurged on some Indiana Jones-branded Cheddar Jack Cheez-Its and a Dr. Pepper in a limited edition Indy can. If a taste combination could ever be named "Middle America," (or "Diabetic Coma"). it's this. As comforting as a hug from an obese aunt.
Oh, and I'm not a Pepper at all. Taste like liquorice cough syrup. Maybe I should have used that on the cereal or waffles. Be seeing that it's "Dr." pepper, I assume the medical credetals are valid. Should have called it Dr. Peppianda Jones soda...
Around mid-afternoon, I indulged in some special edition Indiana Jones mint M&Ms and a Snickers "Adventure Bar." The M&Ms are a superb palette-cleanser, but they're essentially mint M&Ms. Nothing to write a blog about (eh...ooops...). However, this isn't your average Snickers, despite the presence of chocolate, caramel, nougat, and nuts. I let it roll around the tongue and I detect hints of coconut and spice. Well played, Snickers. And right on cue, I was a little ill at this point. 
Just in time for dinner, when the culinary equivalent of the Raiders of the Lost Ark boulder headed right for my colon. The Burger King Indy Whopper—Two beef patties, tomatoes, onions, pepper jack cheese (obviously, nothing says "globe-trotting archaeologist like the Jack!), and not one, but TWO kinds of mayo: Regular and "cajun." I don't know if Indy's ever been to New Orleans and neither does Burger King, but do you see me giving a shit? I wanted the toys!
It went down smooth, like trying to stuff a wet chihuahua into a garden hose. My heart hurts. If Mola Ram could reach in and tear it out, I think it'd save both of us years of headache.
After a few more mint M&Ms and a Temple Of Doom Mine Cart-esque bathroom experience, I put an end to my Indiana Jones eating adventure!!!
Yeah, it seems stupid, but what do you think the real Indiana Jones was doing at the same time?
...being as dorky as me! Harrison, you big geek! Even got the Taters of the Lost Spud!!
Happy July 1st everyone!
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
ReBoot. Defragging a life
Everything is so fragile.
There is so much pain and conflict, so much pain... You keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize, this is it: the dust is your life going on.
If happy comes along, that weird unbearable delight that's actually happy, I think you have to grab it while you can.
You take what you can get, cause it's here, and then...
gone
___________
And with that, everything just makes so much more sense. ..
hello again.
It's been almost exactly half a year on my self imposed removal from the internet. Why, you may ask. Simple: to live life. To become who I wish to be without someone else dictating the limitations. For me to be happy without the need of outside life support. A good friend told me, before you can find happiness in anything, you have to be happy within yourself. Earlier, she wrestled an overflowing toilet for 2 hours, because she didn't realize there was a shut off valve. So from the mouth of naivety comes pearls of wisdom, too special to be just merely chance.
There have been so much I was afraid of in life. And I was so surprised on what most of it was: failure. As simple as that! I didn't want to try anything for fear of failing. It seems so much easier to never know that pain, then to revel in the chance you might be right.
To be honest, I also thought I had no more to say...
And, it hit me one day; Why not? Suck down the fear, and just do it (don't sue me Nike...). I spend so much time with the perception of what can go wrong, nothing of course will ever go right! So, I just...do things now.
One of the big ones, I'm dating and meeting people. MY own people! Not "friends" from other friends, but people who choose to talk to me. And, damn, that was a big nut to crack! I am a mass of eccentricities, and waffles.
I'll go in everything in more deeper details later. But, I wanted to start this again, and shitcakes! Here's how it starts! I also find that life gives us so much each day to write about, and I'm not done yet, afterall
And that quote above that was so moving? It was from an X-Men comic book. Don't scoff! You liked it too! Don't be an ass and fight the fact that comics can be written well! Embrace it!
And we'll get along just grand.
See you soon, space cowboy...
There is so much pain and conflict, so much pain... You keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize, this is it: the dust is your life going on.
If happy comes along, that weird unbearable delight that's actually happy, I think you have to grab it while you can.
You take what you can get, cause it's here, and then...
gone
___________
And with that, everything just makes so much more sense. ..
hello again.
It's been almost exactly half a year on my self imposed removal from the internet. Why, you may ask. Simple: to live life. To become who I wish to be without someone else dictating the limitations. For me to be happy without the need of outside life support. A good friend told me, before you can find happiness in anything, you have to be happy within yourself. Earlier, she wrestled an overflowing toilet for 2 hours, because she didn't realize there was a shut off valve. So from the mouth of naivety comes pearls of wisdom, too special to be just merely chance.
There have been so much I was afraid of in life. And I was so surprised on what most of it was: failure. As simple as that! I didn't want to try anything for fear of failing. It seems so much easier to never know that pain, then to revel in the chance you might be right.
To be honest, I also thought I had no more to say...
And, it hit me one day; Why not? Suck down the fear, and just do it (don't sue me Nike...). I spend so much time with the perception of what can go wrong, nothing of course will ever go right! So, I just...do things now.
One of the big ones, I'm dating and meeting people. MY own people! Not "friends" from other friends, but people who choose to talk to me. And, damn, that was a big nut to crack! I am a mass of eccentricities, and waffles.
I'll go in everything in more deeper details later. But, I wanted to start this again, and shitcakes! Here's how it starts! I also find that life gives us so much each day to write about, and I'm not done yet, afterall
And that quote above that was so moving? It was from an X-Men comic book. Don't scoff! You liked it too! Don't be an ass and fight the fact that comics can be written well! Embrace it!
And we'll get along just grand.
See you soon, space cowboy...
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Weighty Issue
'Kay, there's his guy at my work that thinks everything he says or does is funny. Most annoying thing is the "funny voices" he thinks he masters. All it makes me do is get a mild migraine and cause me to attempt to pinch my eyes together.
Anyway, someone somewhere happens to say, "hey, hey hey". And it's like a Pavlov's dog trigger. Out comes this horrendous Fat Albert imitation.
A gravelly horse voice says, "hey, hey, hey! Fat Albert is here to save the day!"
And like magic, I burst a blood vessel.
Lets leave alone the fact that that was the worst imitation of any cartoon character from the 70's ever attempted. I just wondering how a 400 pound morbidly obese 14 year old is going to save the day. I can probably speculate one thing he never saves: leftovers. And I would also suggest a throat doctor. No one the south side of puberty should have a voice like a chronic smoking grandma.
Hang on, I'm getting off topic. What I really waned to talk about was my weight loss.
Whatta pain in the ass. It's almost easier, and so much cheaper, to be fat!
Painting a picture. Ever since high school, I was overweight. I could eat a whole large pizza and a half and still eat more. I think I topped at 245. My total record was 265 pounds...and that was two years ago. I used to have to have pants cuffed, because they didn't have size 42 pants with a 30 inseam. Used to have to shop in the "huskies" section of Sears. (At least Sears was kind enough to perpetuate my comfort level of my dimensions my making the chubby clothes have such a rugged name!)
As of today, I'm 175 pounds and 18% body fat.
Honestly, how did THAT happen?!
Fad diets? Special foods? Exercise vids? weight loss pills? Nope, none of those.
I went to a gym, ate only when I was hungry, and had diabetes. Thats is it. I lost 60 pounds, lowered my blood pressure, and almost eliminated my diabetes in three months eating corndogs and diet coke. I ate ice cream, pizza, you name it. And I am now at my target weight.
And it sucks!
Do you know how much it cost more to eat healthy? Buying smaller portions of food instead of bulk rate? I had to buy new pants every two weeks, and now I have to by smaller form fitting shirts. I'm also cold more often that I used to be. I feel like a shivering chiwawa when theres a breeze. Being healthy is costing me a fortune.
And it takes forever to shop for food. I now read all the labels. Sodium content. Sugar content. And theres good AND bad cholesterol. I'm in the middle of a cholesterol war and I don't even know how it started! Can't we all just shake hands and slowly clot my arteries as friends?
Right now I'm looking at a drawer of oversize clothes I can't wear anymore, unless I want to follow my dream of being a white gangsta rapper. All I can save are the socks, and thats not fair. I think if the government wants America to not be an overweight nation, they should at least buy you new clothes when you reach your target weight. I shouldn't have to borrow a shirt from a girl if i want to go out and not look like I spontaneously deflated.
Maybe I'll go out right now and get a pie. Either that or drill a new hole on my belt to keep my pants up.
Anyway, someone somewhere happens to say, "hey, hey hey". And it's like a Pavlov's dog trigger. Out comes this horrendous Fat Albert imitation.
A gravelly horse voice says, "hey, hey, hey! Fat Albert is here to save the day!"
And like magic, I burst a blood vessel.
Lets leave alone the fact that that was the worst imitation of any cartoon character from the 70's ever attempted. I just wondering how a 400 pound morbidly obese 14 year old is going to save the day. I can probably speculate one thing he never saves: leftovers. And I would also suggest a throat doctor. No one the south side of puberty should have a voice like a chronic smoking grandma.
Hang on, I'm getting off topic. What I really waned to talk about was my weight loss.
Whatta pain in the ass. It's almost easier, and so much cheaper, to be fat!
Painting a picture. Ever since high school, I was overweight. I could eat a whole large pizza and a half and still eat more. I think I topped at 245. My total record was 265 pounds...and that was two years ago. I used to have to have pants cuffed, because they didn't have size 42 pants with a 30 inseam. Used to have to shop in the "huskies" section of Sears. (At least Sears was kind enough to perpetuate my comfort level of my dimensions my making the chubby clothes have such a rugged name!)
As of today, I'm 175 pounds and 18% body fat.
Honestly, how did THAT happen?!
Fad diets? Special foods? Exercise vids? weight loss pills? Nope, none of those.
I went to a gym, ate only when I was hungry, and had diabetes. Thats is it. I lost 60 pounds, lowered my blood pressure, and almost eliminated my diabetes in three months eating corndogs and diet coke. I ate ice cream, pizza, you name it. And I am now at my target weight.
And it sucks!
Do you know how much it cost more to eat healthy? Buying smaller portions of food instead of bulk rate? I had to buy new pants every two weeks, and now I have to by smaller form fitting shirts. I'm also cold more often that I used to be. I feel like a shivering chiwawa when theres a breeze. Being healthy is costing me a fortune.
And it takes forever to shop for food. I now read all the labels. Sodium content. Sugar content. And theres good AND bad cholesterol. I'm in the middle of a cholesterol war and I don't even know how it started! Can't we all just shake hands and slowly clot my arteries as friends?
Right now I'm looking at a drawer of oversize clothes I can't wear anymore, unless I want to follow my dream of being a white gangsta rapper. All I can save are the socks, and thats not fair. I think if the government wants America to not be an overweight nation, they should at least buy you new clothes when you reach your target weight. I shouldn't have to borrow a shirt from a girl if i want to go out and not look like I spontaneously deflated.
Maybe I'll go out right now and get a pie. Either that or drill a new hole on my belt to keep my pants up.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
The Things We've Left Behind
Well, it's a new year, I haven't written anything in a while, and it's once again time to remunerate, reflect, and actually see whats been going on in the new year...and the fall out of last.
I guess the biggest thing to start out with is that right now...i'm actually happy. And no, not selfish happy, smug happy, had a good poop happy, or artificial happy. I'm genuinly in a place that I never thought i'd be in right now, and it's pure.
Am I rich? no. But I've made a huge leap into seeing whats really important to me. Am I successful? No. But I can see a pathway I'd like to explore. Am I in love? That's an easy one: Yeah. And this time, I can see what was all the downfalls from before, and it seems so simple right now.
I had a wonderful Christmas and I spent it with my best friends. I had quite a time getting presents to all of them, since my previous work sent my checks to the wrong house and refused to fix it until the new year. But I loved the spirit of giving, and braved to angry shoppers to get what I thought, was perfect gifts for all of them. Even though they themselves said I didn't have to buy them anything. Come'on. When you have people as good as that, that are as close as family, you NEED to get them something!
And I love seeing reactions from people. I'm a born people watcher. I sometimes sit in a mall with Christine and watch couples, trying to see if I can tell who they are by the little clues people subconsciously give off. I think I'm unusually accurate, actually.
My mom told me once I was too insensitive. I think that if you you know me, You'd know what a huge joke that is. I am so hypersensitive, I can tell if someone is depressed from across the street. I need to relax more, I think.
Anyway, it's been quite a year: I lost a good friend that I thought I'd have for the rest of my life. I lost a long relationship. I lost my home and job. I lost my way.
And now that you've read that, you can now delete it. Because that isn't at all important. And that's what I've gained.
My lost friend? She is in crisis mode and I'll be here for her when she needs me, however long it takes. That's what me being a friend is about, and that's more than okay. Lost relationship? It was very unhealthy and in months I have so grown into a very strong person and fantastic individual. I feel like I've been reborn. And I've found someone who not only cares about me, but respects exactly who I am and doesn't take me for granted.
More importantly: I make her as happy as she does me. What else can anyone ever hope for in life?
Job? Home? Possessions? Phfft!!!!
I have a job now that I Like, (and isn't retail). I have a place to call home, in fact I have two. (I don't even watch TV anymore because my life is just to interesting now). And I've learned you can take everything away from me, and I've really lost nothing at all.
And, I've found my faith in myself. Now that is a great gift I didn't expect, and I actually gave that to me. A second good gift would be a Wii, so if anyone needs to feel as good as I do, feel free to indulge in that!
So I've left a lot of things behind, and it made room for the good stuff.
I guess the biggest thing to start out with is that right now...i'm actually happy. And no, not selfish happy, smug happy, had a good poop happy, or artificial happy. I'm genuinly in a place that I never thought i'd be in right now, and it's pure.
Am I rich? no. But I've made a huge leap into seeing whats really important to me. Am I successful? No. But I can see a pathway I'd like to explore. Am I in love? That's an easy one: Yeah. And this time, I can see what was all the downfalls from before, and it seems so simple right now.
I had a wonderful Christmas and I spent it with my best friends. I had quite a time getting presents to all of them, since my previous work sent my checks to the wrong house and refused to fix it until the new year. But I loved the spirit of giving, and braved to angry shoppers to get what I thought, was perfect gifts for all of them. Even though they themselves said I didn't have to buy them anything. Come'on. When you have people as good as that, that are as close as family, you NEED to get them something!
And I love seeing reactions from people. I'm a born people watcher. I sometimes sit in a mall with Christine and watch couples, trying to see if I can tell who they are by the little clues people subconsciously give off. I think I'm unusually accurate, actually.
My mom told me once I was too insensitive. I think that if you you know me, You'd know what a huge joke that is. I am so hypersensitive, I can tell if someone is depressed from across the street. I need to relax more, I think.
Anyway, it's been quite a year: I lost a good friend that I thought I'd have for the rest of my life. I lost a long relationship. I lost my home and job. I lost my way.
And now that you've read that, you can now delete it. Because that isn't at all important. And that's what I've gained.
My lost friend? She is in crisis mode and I'll be here for her when she needs me, however long it takes. That's what me being a friend is about, and that's more than okay. Lost relationship? It was very unhealthy and in months I have so grown into a very strong person and fantastic individual. I feel like I've been reborn. And I've found someone who not only cares about me, but respects exactly who I am and doesn't take me for granted.
More importantly: I make her as happy as she does me. What else can anyone ever hope for in life?
Job? Home? Possessions? Phfft!!!!
I have a job now that I Like, (and isn't retail). I have a place to call home, in fact I have two. (I don't even watch TV anymore because my life is just to interesting now). And I've learned you can take everything away from me, and I've really lost nothing at all.
And, I've found my faith in myself. Now that is a great gift I didn't expect, and I actually gave that to me. A second good gift would be a Wii, so if anyone needs to feel as good as I do, feel free to indulge in that!
So I've left a lot of things behind, and it made room for the good stuff.
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