Friday, August 25, 2006

I suck at gambling.

Seriously. I'm leaving that shit to my mom. She's ridiculously lucky when it comes to playing the slots. I, on the other hand, seem to just throw money into the dread machines, just to say "Ooh. Bye-bye!" and wave at my already gone lucre twenty minutes later.

I also have a problem with quitting while I'm ahead. I wandered over from where Leviathan was playing poker (that's another entry altogether) to play my co-worker's money at the roulette tables (blew that, too). After that miserable thirty seconds, I stopped at one of those wheels where you plunk down chips where you think the wheel will stop. I managed to win a few bucks, but then got cocky and started spreading chips all over the place. Hence, no game show.

F this in the A. I'm sticking to straight spending my money, because at least then, I have the illusion of getting something out of it.

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Saturday, August 19, 2006

Princess Lauritza and letting it ride.

This will be my first attempt at using uBlog to post, so bear with me.

Today's travel was almost hitch-free. We were slowed by an immense amount of traffic on the runway at PHL. According to our pilot, there was a lot of construction at the airport, so planes were getting in line to get to their respective gates. He then told us "There's only one way in, and one way out." For some reason, this made me (for the second time in a week, actually) think to myself, "Welcome to Thunderdome." And yes, I know it's not exactly the same thing; don't send me hate mails because of it.

(Wow, I'm feeling a bit like Lucas in Empire Records right now: "Who knows where thoughts come from, Joe?")

Anyway, we went from the airport straight to what ended up being dinner with my aunt and uncle, then back to their house. My mom crashed, and since I wasn't tired and had to give Leviathan a call later, the rest of us stayed up.

My aunt decided to teach me the basic tenets of poker while we watched To Wong Foo.... I emplored my Uncle Harold, aka "The Great Norseman" (who is still unaware of this loving nickname Sideshow and I have given him), to do what the commercial on Bravo was telling him and "get [his] gay on."

Eventually, I was the last one awake. I called Leviathan and solidified our plans.

Now it's late, I've been running on four hours of sleep, and I'm blogging about it. What an asshole, eh?

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Thursday, August 17, 2006

Under the table and blogging.

I think I'm just about ready for my jaunt up North.

I did most of my packing last night, although I can't guarantee any of my ensembles will match. I simply pulled out a stack of clean shirts and shorts and threw them in the suitcase. At this point, I can only hope for the best.

Blogger has been so kind as to commence cooperating with the SuperPhone, so I may be able to post text, albeit sparse, entries a bit whilst away. Unless, of course, I get access to a computer to post as usual, or I somehow keep so busy striking it rich in Atlantic City that my time is spent on planning how to spend my money rather than posting (I'm sure you folks can come up with some great ideas).

Personally, I'm hoping for a bit of both.

Gotta get used to these shorter, phone-originating entries...

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Wednesday, August 16, 2006

The long and the long of it.

I am setting foot on hallowed ground on Friday, as my long-overdue vacay takes me to the wilds of New Jersey ("God's Country," really). Not only am I going to be taking time away from those chuckleheads at the Seventh Layer of Hell, I will be indulging in quality family time, as well as swimming in infants (almost literally). Let's not forget quality time to be spent with Leviathan, as well the oh-so-remote possibility of me winning huge in Atlantic City and flying back down here to flip off everyone at work before I quit on the spot...

Sorry, drifting off again. I apologize.

Anyway, I think you can tell that I'm pretty damned excited to be getting away, even if it's for ten days. I think I might have a bit of a problem with blogging, however, as I will not have ready access to a computer for ten days, and this morning, Google started giving me shit when I tried to log onto Blogger to update. For some reason, Google now requires you to have a Google ID to log in to a number of things, and for some reason, I can't just directly log onto Blogger from my phone now; I'm supposed to use Google. The trouble is, my phone keeps yelling at me to have Active-X controls activated (something I don't think I can do on SuperPhone), and won't let me sign up for a Google account, much less log into it to get to the blog. Gah. So, what do you think it's gonna be, audio blogs for the next two weeks? I'm not sure any of us could handle that much stupidity at once.

This tangent has been brought to you by... Eh, fuck it.

Can you sense the overall malaise I'm languishing through these days? I mean, my vacation starts at 4:30 PM on Thursday, and thus far, this has been the longest damned week of my life. I've been keeping busy, but shit if I got to look at the clock after what seemed like hours to see that I've just burned a measly three minutes.

It's gotten to the point that I have to rely on Penelope, my at-office mascot, to manage my daily interactions with co-workers. And she doesn't take any bullshit.

Nothing says "I love my job" quite like a penguin wearing a samurai hat and carrying a big yellow hatchet.

By the way, it's pronounced "Pee-nah-lope." Just so you know.

Sorry if this entry isn't what you thought it might be after reading the title. Perv.

Some more random stuff before I shut my brain off for the evening:

  • I've been debating whether or not I should reveal I recently bought a pair of jorts for my trip. Well, guess the debate's over. I was going to start this whole argument for how they aren't really your typical jorts, but hell, they're denim shorts, so I guess they really are a "portmanteau of jeans and shorts" (hee hee, Wikipedia, for using "portmanteau," as it sounds kind of dirty). For shame. And none of you stopped me! What's next, more post-grad work, but this time at UGA? Somebody do something!
  • Someone, who shall remain nameless, just so happens to be watching Mean Girls every time I talk to him on the phone. And I mean, every time. He attributes this to the fact that Showtime airs it in heavy rotation, but come on, man. You don't have to be ashamed. We know you miss pre-crazy weight loss Lohan.

We all do, man. We all do.
  • Just 18 17 more days to sweet, sweet Gator Football Goodness!
    Rrrow.


    I know, I'm getting giddy. Can't help it.

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Thursday, August 10, 2006

I didn't mean to call you that.

It was my fault for turning on Adult Contemporary radio yesterday, I suppose. Because now, I've had "My Own Worst Enemy" in my head for the past two days.

That song inevitably takes me back to the memory of actually buying the Lit album (David's reasoning was that it was a new release on sale for seven bucks, dude!), and only really playing that song, because that was the song everyone liked then.


These fellows looked much like the dudes that the Ladies of Beaver West would hang out with in college. Except that dude on the left; he looks more like the T.G.I. Friday's manager that would always give your friend working there the hairy eyeball anytime he came by your table. Well, I guess in that case, that dude might look like one of the dudes we'd hang out with. Creepy.

Then the video for "Miserable" came out. You know, the one where the band is Lilliputian (sp?) in stature, and they're performing on a giant Pamela Anderson stage, only to be eaten by her at the end of the video?

Yeah, considering my general non-feeling towards Ms. Anderson (really neither here nor there, although I am probably less positively inclined), and their clever wordplay with the word "come," I started not to like the album as a whole that much anymore.

Fast forward to the episode of 90210 where Donna and Kelly round up the gang to help them with their fashion show. Everyone was sewing shit together and modeling!

As "Ziplock" played, the kids/thirtysomethings from Beverly Hills modeled their asses off. Everyone took part, even Stoned Noah, who managed to not piss himself. (Don't make me post yet another picture of Vincent Young here. Just use your imagination.)

Then came Matt Durning, attorney-at-law, strutting down the catMattwalk as the music played overhead. In fact, I believe he may have been using a sweater as neckwear. Regardless, when he got to the end of the walk, he dropped down into a squat and paused. I can't remember whether he did the click and point to the audience, because all I could think of at that point was how much I didn't enjoy Lit anymore.


Is he seriously doing that? I mean, with the shirt and everything? 'Cause he kinda looks like a poofter.

Oh, if I had another chance, and put it in a Ziploc bag, I'd have screen-captured that very moment.

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Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Polite to a fault.

My psychological well-being dictates that I find a new job, and quickly.

I think that one of the things making me crazy is the whole "customer is always right" idea. Because clearly, they're not. And in this particular field, it is grossly apparent, and it almost seems like these "customers" are arrogant about it. They are unwilling to accept that everything we tell them is government-mandated (which they already know), and they try to find loopholes and finagle to get their way (which they know isn't going to happen).

With all the lying, hang-ups, and all-around general rudeness, as well as the feeling of dread that only comes with facing an unrewarding job every morning, the thought of going back to a job where I'd be traveling all over creation, dealing with everyone from poo-flingers to purgers to pill-popping punkasses at all hours...

Well, it doesn't seem all that bad of an idea.

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Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Something for everyone.

Ah, the joys of YouTube. It allows me to not only post my soundless video of the boys waverunning in South Carolina, but to post great flashbacks of joy like this:

I mean, there's something for everyone here, including my mom.

Friggin' Columbo and shit. Jack should've taken him out, Wolvie-berserk style.

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Sunday, August 06, 2006

"Self-serving" means nothing when football season is upon us!

For those of you not into college football, please disregard this post. But come back soon, because I miss you already!

Now, there are three links that are wonderful for those of you who are into the Saturday Showdowns (and no, I'm not referring to Saturday Night's Main Event, so put your hand down, Danhole. And quit fidgeting!).

I'm not even going to call out the male friend of ours who professed he would have sex with the above pictured man. He knows (as we do) who he is. (And no, it's not Dan. So don't send me e-mails asking for his number, unless you're a chick who likes bisexual alt-rock, or you want to buy his house.)

Sure, these links are to blog entries made last July through December. But I don't give a shit. The hour is (almost) upon us for some quality pigskin, and I take no responsibility for the ridiculousness that will flow through my brain between now and January.

Oh, who am I kidding? I don't take responsibility for that shit at any given time. Oh, well. Moving on...

Every Day Should Be Saturday
- just look at the top graphic. You'll feel right at home. You might even cry a little.

College Football As South Park
- Oh yes, they did. And, of special note, is the entry for December 31, 2005 entitled, "The Germinator." (Somewhere near Bluffton, the Polish Prince is smiling, even though technically, it's not about him). However, before these guys did this...

The Simpsons Cavalcade of College Football - This gent did it beforehand, but using the folks in The Simpsons. The Anonymous Knife-Man and Danhole are sure to get a kick out of this one. However, even before this...

school spirit....m*&!*$@'s!
- This kind sir started it all. For those of you not up to snuff on your rappers (which means almost all four of you I'm specifically directing this post to), just read the part about the Gators, and chuckle proudly that they were compared to Snoop Dogg. (At this point, allow me to point out that the author of this post compared the Gators to Snoop before those fucking Orbit commercials made him look like that much more of a sellout.) Add to that the fact that the picture of a Gator they chose to use to put up next to Snoop's was of the Canadian Cannon himself, and that just adds to the hilarity.

Surely, you didn't think we were going to get through this post comfortably, did you? Stupid.

Alright, here endeth the lesson. Go off and view these blogs. But before you go, just some more of the Cannon to get your week started off right:

Positive thought for the day: Like the man pictured above, at least we can all thank our lucky stars that we're all employed.

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Thursday, August 03, 2006

Dog Day.

Just so you know, today is Riley's birthday. After my craptacular day at work, I came home to a celebration that included her having a fancy cruller for birthday cake (I think she's expecting a birthday cake from her Uncle Danhole later,) and much cavorting.

No poodles were swung in the making of this birthday frolic.

After all this celebration, which culminated this evening with a brand new chocolate-flavored Nylabone, that bitch is tired.

Pooped.

Come to think of it, so is this one.

We're going to bed.

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