Wednesday, November 30, 2005

"I'd give up my pride to save me from being alone."

Oh, no... the above line from the ill-fated hairtastic duo that shall not be named (unless you name them, of course!) can only mean one thing...

A long-awaited rendition of Silent Karaoke: College Nostalgia Edition! (Mind you, Silent Karaoke is a further testament to my inability to transition between either songs or thoughts.)

"She's figured out all her doubts were someone else's point of view. Waking up this time to smash the silence with a brick of self-control... Are you locked up in a world that's been planned out for you? Are you feeling like a social tool without a use?"

"So I wait here for an answer, and wonder if tomorrow will be like yesterday. I keep holding on, but can't go on living this way..." (Sorry, couldn't help that one, either. And yeah, so what if it should technically be in the High School Nostalgia Edition? Leave me alone!).

"I know too many people unhappy in a life from which they'd love to flee. Watching others get everything offered, they're wanton for discovery. Oh my brother, my sister, my mother, you're losing your identity! Can't you see that it's you in the window, shining with intensity?"

Okay, that last one made me want to call Patterson so we could go down to the Graham Cracker and get ourselves some 72-ounce frozen yogurts. Recognize!

Ah, forget it. I'm wiped. I'm going to bed.

And by the way, Willem Dafoe is still scary-lookin'.

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Saturday, November 26, 2005

This is unacceptable.

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Back off, ladies! I called "Dibs" before you got out of your training bras!

Just kidding. Your sign is very clever. Hell, if I were in school right now, I'd probably be sporting something similar.

But, seriously: Back off.

Go Gators!

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Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Mmm. Caramel Cone.

I have no idea why I'm shoveling spoonfuls of this stuff, since I should be keeping Botanicus relatively empty in anticipation of reaching critical mass by tomorrow evening. Boy, I'm a moron.

And I know I said something earlier about continuing the story from my previous post in this one... but as I'm shoveling Caramel Cone in my mouth, I have not the capacity at this point. Sorry. Maybe sometime in the near future, when I'm sure nobody's looking.

Yes, I'm that paranoid. Leave me alone.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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Tuesday, November 22, 2005

"I'm becoming like everybody else... And I'm strangely elated!"

I can't wait until tomorrow is over. Any three day workweek deserves my excitement and praise. And copious amounts of pumpkin pie.

So, I am really craving bananas right now. Just thought you'd like to know.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, whilst I was less-than-enjoying the oniony aftertaste in my strawberry parfait (it was so disgusting, I'm not even kidding), I was also taking in the eye candy.

I was at Beef's with Danhole, the Corporate Warmongerer Formally Known as Francois of Hoggetowne, and Sarah (the one Dan describes as "Jibber Jabber Sarah," due to her impressively rapid and expressive speech patterns), watching the ill-fated game that I refuse to talk about. After that last sentence. So there.

Anyway, as is customary with any Gator game viewing at a local sports bar, attractive men posted up at the bar, and we just happened to have a booth that was not only next to the bar, but near one of the larger teles showing the game. Sarah and I, rather strategically, happened to be sitting on the side of the booth that not only gave us optimal view of the game, but quite a view of the cuter, younger male Gator fans as well. Never mind the fact we had our backs to the crap-ass Annual Bowden Bowl, Sponsored by Depends Undergarments. This was going to be wondrous!

And wondrous it quickly became, as Sarah and I spotted an absolutely pleasant-to-look at gentleman wearing an orange and blue Gators pullover (plus one), khaki shorts (plus two), and Reefs (plus three, at least in my book).

To paraphrase Mr. Herbert the Pervert from FG, it must've been my birthday!

I was going to summarize the next set of events so as to minimize my own humiliation. Somehow, I find I am hard pressed to do so at this very moment. So, I'm going to leave it alone. At least, until tomorrow.

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Thursday, November 17, 2005

Limes are in season.

So, already watched Alias, and am very excited for the next new episode in two weeks, since it'll be...

THE RETURN OF THE LIMEY!

Well, he's not technically a Limey... In fact, I'm not sure what Sark's nationality is supposed to be, but whatever. He's going to do horribly inappropriate things when he comes back to the show. Makes me giggle.

In lieu of posting another picture of David Anders, let me post a picture of an actual, verified Limey:


I know I've posted it before, but it's so cute; he just looks so eager!

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Not enough Creamsicles.

The "family size freezer box" of Creamsicles in the freezer has mysteriously dwindled to near nothingness in the past week. I don't know who to blame, but someone is going down. My money's on Mario; must engage immediate countermeasures.

Wow, can you tell I'm getting ready to watch me some
Alias?

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Thursday, November 10, 2005

Company picnic.

Well, an "Employee Appreciation" picnic, at least. I can't remember ever having a job that had such a thing. Oh, wait, yeah I can; but it sucked, so it doesn't count.

For some reason, I can't stop imagining what the Employee Appreciation Picnic might look like for those folks who have the job listed a couple back...

I spent a good portion of my time during commercial breaks this evening putting iron-on letters on the back of the shirt I'm supposed to wear to this picnic (small price to pay for being able to wear shorts and sneakers to work). I won't go into detail about the almost perfectly straight letters I put on that shirt. Suffice it to say, I didn't find iron-on numbers of "1" and "2" to go with them that were large enough for my liking. Oh well. At least I'll get to throw a football at people's heads tomorrow.

I'm motivated. Let's do this!

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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

"Kisses over catfish and cocktails."

The above, my friends, is a prime example of the artistry the Cheaters team renders on their scripts. Color me impressed. Well, not really.

Today was one of those Office Space days. I have not yet given in to the impulse to bring a drill to disassemble my cubicle walls, but I find it very difficult to hold back on gutting fish on all the correspondence I have to do. I swear, I feel oddly accomplished after finishing a big stack of letters, just to turn around and find five hundred more in their place. Miserable jackals!

Oh, and speaking of "disassemble," remind me to tell you one of these days about the kid I'm going to seriously start calling "Johnny Five." Moving on, then!

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Monday, November 07, 2005

The best job ever?

Yesterday morning, as I was recovering from my old-age meltdown, I spoke to a friend about what they were planning on doing for the day. My friend, who shall remain nameless for the time being (and you'll figure out why), told of a plan to spend the morning landscaping, as a venture out to Lowe's earlier in the morning resulted in the purchase of many plants.

This friend then lamented on how landscaping is quickly becoming a new (and apparently expensive) addiction. We then joked about how at least it's better than sporting a crack habit, and how a landscaping addiction would probably make one have to find supplemental income to support it.

"Sounds like you're going to need to find a second job," I said. "But what kind of job can you get?"

"Well..." (brief pause). "I could get a job holding dicks."

(Crickets chirping in the background)

"Yes. Yes, I guess you could. Good on you!"

Now, you can see why I refrain from putting names here, so as to avoid embarrassing somebody's Mama.

Not my Mama, of course.

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Sunday, November 06, 2005

Recovery.

I am currently recovering from a day of extreme highs and lows, better known as yesterday's Vandy game. The hours leading up to the game were enjoyable and nostalgic, save for the mosquitoes the size of your head that decided to bite me 31 times (I'm not even kidding-- I counted). The game was wondrous and majestic, at least until the whole double-overtime debacle. And even then, it was gloriously nerve-wracking.

All I know is, I'm getting too old for this shit.

I'm hoping to post some pictures and short video clips I shot during the game some point this week. That is, if I can fish through the clips and find the ones where I didn't shake the camera violently in celebration, thus ruining the shot. This could prove difficult.

Before I forget, I must send out mad props to Lil' Pimpin' Jim, who hooked us up with the piping hot pizza that Danforth and I gratefully burped up for the rest of the evening. Next time we're in town, Jim, we're feeding you!

We're just not exactly sure with what, yet.

Anyway, today I started paying for yesterday's tomfoolery. Since I spent most of my tailgating time chucking the football with the entirely wrong throwing mechanics (throwing with too much force and using my entire body in the follow through), and I climbed up that fucking hill from Shands to get to the Swamp, my body hurts. And for some reason, probably because I slept weird or craned my neck oddly, the right side of my neck is stiff and hurts like a bitch. I actually find myself sitting here with a hot water bottle, watching Cold Case and being comforted by Rileybot.

Seriously, I think I'm turning into Murtaugh.






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Wednesday, November 02, 2005

"Where is my bear poop?"

So, Halloween has come and gone, and Riley had a successful trick-or-treat outing. Pictures may follow later this week, if I am so inclined.

Pretty damned good weekend, considering the outcome of Saturday afternoon into the evening. Crazy-ass Tony Hopkins be damned! Oh, and
this may never get old:
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The looks on their faces just says it all, really.

Then, I was treated to an extra hour of sleep that night, and despite waking up to my shoulder absolutely aching, I rolled over, grabbed my cell phone, and was greeted with the lovely news that South Carolina beat Tennessee, in Knoxville, on the day they retired Peyton Manning's number! Viva technology!

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Inscription on plaque: "Danny Wuerffel's picture will be in a place of honor at Neyland Stadium, considering how much he felt at home here during his collegiate football career."

I love those crazy Photoshoppin' goons!

Now, I don't know what to think of those "custom" uniforms that Nike had the boys wear for the game, but I do know I did enjoy the look on Mr. Leak's face throughout:
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Perhaps Chris just got a glimpse of the "Florida Shocks Georgia" sign. Or maybe he's just stoked about scoring a touchdown. Take your pick.

Anyway, all this photo posting is wearing me out. I'm off to catch up on my SVU. Go start a Fortune 500 company Go Gators!

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Sunday, October 23, 2005

That'll learn me!

This will teach me to stop doing research on my possible future car:

Click here to say to yourself, "WTF?"

It's something I came across when doing some background research on any common design problems on my hopefully future car. Makes me want to just go back to updating my Jukebox and pretend the above doesn't exist.

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Saturday, October 22, 2005

"I'd bust some caps!"

The Big Hit is on the tele, and I just tuned in to the part where China Chow's dad in the movie is talking about the "Trace Buster Buster." Not the "Trace Buster Buster Buster," but the "Trace Buster Buster." We haven't gotten into the whole "A Catholic and a Jew?!?!" Lainie Kazan explosion yet. Awesome.

And, despite having one of the best lines ever, I still think Lou Diamond Phillips is a tool.

Anyway, another Friday night has come and gone, and I again find that I didn't do much. Surprising how little you go out and venture when you are constantly broke. Anyway, since I haven't done so in a while, I am going to make some random observations:

  • I am still annoyed at the jackball who has bananaworld.blogspot.com. Would proper English and actual subject matter kill a mofo? I think not.
  • I still, somehow, cannot take Mark Wahlberg seriously.
  • I am probably going to need to own about fifty cars to have all the personalized license plates I or others have come up with. The thing is, not everybody will understand them; but that is entirely cool by me.
  • There is almost nothing funnier than squirrels with lightsabers.
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    "Feel the vibrations!" Sorry, couldn't help it.
Alright, that's it for now. I'm off to bed.

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Friday, October 21, 2005

Incredible wisdom...

"There's about forty people standing around, and they're all waiting for lunch!" -- Jenna Jameson, on what it's like on the set of a porn film.

Speaking of porn and smarts, you should probably call the Jerminator and wish him a Happy Birthday! He gets old like the rest of us today!
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This picture was taken right after Jeremy decided to call his beloved wife "A-Hole." The extreme grin was apparently designed to hide the sheer terror he silently harbored in anticipation of the shellacking he would receive once the rest of us left the house.

I don't know why, but now I want to watch Orgazmo.

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Thursday, October 20, 2005

Rounding the corner.

I think I may have only three or four episodes left, here. Granted, I didn't go on a three-day, three-season Alias bender like Danhole did last year; I took my time, hurried up, and broke it up into three or four episodes a night. But, I find the end is nigh, and I'm starting to wonder if I need to break the seal and head to Ballbuster to see if they've got Season 2 available. Why I bothered buying Season 1, I don't know, considering all that non-money I'm trying to save.

I know I've seen all these episodes before during their original runs, But it was twenty well spent, in my opinion. And I'll just consider it a wash if anyone decides to borrow it. So, feel free to ask.

Although, I do enjoy the "pause" feature quite a bit when Martin gets that "scrappy mischievous agent" look on his face...
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Or when he's just looking pretty.

It's also a hoot whenever he and Sam have that whole "Ooh, sexual tension!" thing going on. Color me doubly amused when they're carrying.
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The So-So White Fed
All-Stars, packin' heat! Two times! What the hell am I saying?!?

Apparently, I have that whole "hot do-gooder" thing going on: Vaughn, Fitzgerald, Stabler. Wonder where that comes from?

There I go, trying to analyze myself again. What's the saying? Isn't it, "You can take the girl out of the therapy profession, but sometimes a cigar is just a cigar"?

No, that's not it.

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Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Well, this is just... wonderful.

So yeah... there's another friggin' hurricane coming our way. Brilliant!
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Remember last year, when we had four headed our way in rapid succession, right around the time I started up the blog? Man, those were times, huh?

Sometimes makes me miss the old job. They at least gave me a couple of days off because of the hurricanes. Oh, wait, that wasn't them; it was the school I visited that had enough sense to not let those crazy little punk bastard delinquents roam the streets during an impending washout. Genius.

Off to continue my Without a Trace: Season One Marathon. I heart Eric Close. And I keep wanting to call Anthony LaPaglia's character "Tony," and I keep half-expecting Brenda Fricker to come from around the corner and try to make out with him. I also keep thinking Debi Mazar is going to show up out of where, since, well, she's always in movies with him, right?
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Debi Mazar's hair is, as always... impressive.

Anyway, on with the show!

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Monday, October 17, 2005

"I am part Dutch. That's how we roll!"

I'm going to punch that kid in the ass, I swear.

So, I am about to go to bed, once I can tear myself away from this self-imposed
Without A Trace marathon. Granted, I've seen all the episodes to date, but you just can't pass up a complete first season collection for twenty bucks. I was so close to getting that and finally buying the first season of Nip/Tuck, but then the fact that I have just paid every damned bill that's due, added to the fervent desire I have to be able to eat for the next two weeks...

Well, you get my idea.

Anyway, I am getting a crick in my neck from simultaneously blogging and watching, so I'm getting back to it. But before I go...

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"Never let go, Jack!"

Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

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Sunday, October 16, 2005

You should have heard it.

Last night, in a fit of post- crappy football psychosis, I decided to audio blog a little, despite (or possibly because of) the fact that my voice was just about gone from screaming for all kinds of reasons at Beef's. I started rambling into the phone at about 1:30 this morning, mostly like I was leaving a really long and obnoxious drunken message on someone's voice mail. Then, I suppose I passed out and hung up (the order of which, I am not really certain).

Point is, I never saved the entry for posting, and it obviously didn't show up
here, and we may never know what fantastical pearls of wisdom I planned to impart on poor Lex (yeah, you were thisclose to having a blog entry -- audio, no less!-- directed solely at you. I can remember shit else, but I do remember that I was trying to tell you something. Now, don't go and get a big head about it).

The funny thing? I wasn't drunk. At all. Haven't had a drop in about a month. I was just fucking exhausted. Apparently, crappy football nights will do that to you. And make you sound like Selma Diamond (RIP) from
Night Court. Sassy!

I also turned down the prospect of $2.50 mimosas this morning. Who the hell does that at a beautiful Sunday morning breakfast with your favorite gays?

What is happening to me?

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Sunday, October 09, 2005

Before I go to bed...

You know that Intel Centrino commercial where the idea is that w/their technology, you have multimedia stuff more readily accessible (read: "in your lap"), and they use guest appearances by celebrities like Lucy Liu and Seal sitting in people's laps to get their point across?

Well, whether you know what the hell I'm talking about or not, one thing is certain: I'd give anything to be that dude who had Michael Owen in his lap. Damn it.

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I want to grace your lap with me bum! Right!

That's it. I'm shutting this damn thing down.

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Friday, October 07, 2005

This is what I get for helping out!

So, Danhole was all mad because his DVR failed to record the Monday night CBS lineup. Of course, this included the viewing of How I Met Your Mother. So, being the nice person that I am, I volunteered to look it up on LimeWire.

This, my friends, is what I got:

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Screw this "being nice" stuff. It's for the birds!

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Wednesday, October 05, 2005

"The cow is an insolent bastard."

Can't believe I'm quoting that movie. Well, it is on cable again this month. Chris Parnell needs a breakout role.

I am clearly delirious.

So, tomorrow (now today) is another "Jeans Day" at work. To think I'd get to the point where I was actually excited, nay, stoked to wear jeans to work, when such a thing was so readily available at the previous employment, just boggles the mind. The bad thing is that you can't wear t-shirts when you wear the jeans. So, I guess I'll have to keep my "Spooning Leads to Forking" t-shirt in the closet for another day. Damn.

Currently thinking of getting a personalized plate if when I get the new car hopefully in December.

(Yeah, I can beat a new trick to death, can't I?)

If you have any ideas for a regular plate (maximum 7 characters) or a UF Plate (maximum 5 characters), let me know, because, as I said earlier...

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I am clearly delirious.

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Tuesday, October 04, 2005

It's time for...

The Quote of the Week Month!

Okay, first one who guesses who said this gem correctly (other than the person that said it, of course), gets a prize. Of some sort. Not really sure what, though. Kind of low on the dough this month.

Here it is, in all its glory:

"The rest of me is just along for the ride, really; It's mainly up to the ass."
All right... Start guessing!

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I hate a multitalented bastard.

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It rankles me to no end. I mean, it's enough to be talented in one area; but to be talented in several, and making it look as easy as a fart after Sonny's Real Pit BBQ, is a wholly different thing.

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Disgusting, talent is.
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Abhorrent.

With that in mind, take a look at Grantasm's artwork. The ruddy bitch!

Click on one of the images to be taken to the Flickr website, where you can download the images in various sizes, suitable for printing and framing.

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Then, after you're done admiring, feel free to kick Grant in the pills when you see him. 'Tis only fair.

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Sunday, October 02, 2005

Riley has a new nickname...

And that, my friends, is "Pumpkin Escobear."

Will catch up with blogging in a little bit. For now, I'm watching the first part of the
Crossing Jordan/Las Vegas crossover. Ah, the sexual tension between Jordan and Danny is so... palpable amusing!

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I think good old Ed Deline is trying to catch a grab. Feisty old bugger!

All right. Back in a bit.

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Saturday, October 01, 2005

For the love of all that is good...

Go see Serenity and look at the pretty people, will you?

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I saw it tonight. This movie kicks my ass. Let it go kick yours.

After all, they aim to misbehave.

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Tuesday, September 27, 2005

"No, I wasn't asleep..."

"I was just taking my time for your pleasure!"

Don't know why, but the way Mr. Cooper said it in Kitchen Confidential just cracks my shit up.

Okay, going to catch up on the rest of the DVR'd stuff now. Back in a couple of months.

Well, maybe less.

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Thursday, September 22, 2005

Damn. It.

Courtesy of the Herald Sun, by way of Trent, I found out that Garbage is breaking up. Crap! Who am I going to for Vitamin C bashing and constant reminders for Billy Corgan to get over himself, not to mention happy tales of Shirley finding ways to pleasure herself in the van on road trips in the early days? I'll tell you who: NOBODY!

"That's right, Lindsey Lohan: you want nothin'! You want nothin'!"

(Sorry. That's just such a damned good movie.)

Oh, it's just so depressing. I need to find some chocolate.

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Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Bachelore.

Yes, I meant to put that last "E" in there. Hear me out.

I just finished watching the season premier of L&O:SVU, and I am almost 100% certain that in the preview for next week's show, I caught a glimpse of something spectacular.

I sat there, thinking, Wait a minute. Is that...

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Our favorite Canadian???

Yes, folks, I do believe that I saw, for a brief, shining moment, Jesse on SVU! Oh, could this be true? A bit part on the way to the big time?

I certainly hope so. This will be good for him, since that whole foosball thing doesn't seem to be working out so well. I guess we'll have to wait until next week!

Of course, I think I have to sit through an hour of Estella Warren trying to look sultry, but that might well be worth it at the prospect of Palmer and Stabler, Hotties-at-Large!

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Stabler, after all, conquers all.

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Monday, September 19, 2005

"Holy crap, here comes Jesus..."

"...and he doesn't look too happy!"

Man, I really love Family Guy.

I'm currently watching a whole buttload of DVR'd season premiere programming, but I though I'd just say that.

Off to watch Prison Break now. Mmm... Jail.

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Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Infidelity and waffles.

It seems that I cannot tear myself away from the strawberry Eggos I've fashioned as a late-night snack long enough to type a substantial post, so I have decided to wolf them down in order to get to business. I am doing the double duty of eating the waffles while trying to block Riley from getting to them, whilst the soothing W.T. tones of Cheaters (now moved to an earlier late-night time slot!) drone on in the background. All the episodes feel the same to me nowadays, but I persist in trying to catch them, in the vain hope I'll actually catch that really screwed-up one Grantasm and I caught a few years back that just trumps all other episodes.

Waffles have been consumed. We can move on now.

I finally got my car back today; Sideshow was nice enough to go get it during his lunch break. It was strange to not drive for the past two and a half weeks. Essentially, I have been carpooling with Perla, and showing up at work an hour early, since she has an earlier shift than I do. Surprisingly enough, the hour difference has wreaked havoc on my sleep schedule, and there is no place for me to catch extra Z's once I show up at the office. This has led to me having an incredibly low tolerance for ignorant people calling for help first thing in my workday. Thank God for the mute button...

Man, I'm all over the place today, and none of those places seems like a good place to stop. Maybe I'll just go to bed.

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A hint of cupcakes.

Wow. "Kentwood, Louisiana's Gift to the World" (per Matt Lauer, of course) has officially sprung off.

This, coming on the heels of a quite unholy self-discovery, is almost too much for me to bear.

One thing's for sure: that dirtbag husband of hers better get to being useful, and quick. And he needs a haircut!

Gah, just click here to view a related spectacle. Before you get all crazy, don't worry: it's not the birth, just something else. Dear Lord. I need to go have dinner. And be away.

Very, very away.

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Tuesday, September 13, 2005

A late-evening conversation.

The following conversation just happened about five minutes ago.

There (groggily): Uh... hello?
Here: Oh, hey. You were sleeping?
There: Yeah. 'Sokay. What's up?
Here: Nothing. Just wanted to say hey. Forgot you were going to bed so early.
There: Nah, I just have to get up early. (Sounding concerned) Is everything okay?
Here: Yeah. Go to bed.
There: Are you sure?
Here (more emphatically): Yes! Go to bed! I will tell you my theories at a later date.
There: Theories? What theories? What about?
Here (thinking quickly): Um... procreation?
There: Agh... Don't do it.
Here: Okay, I won't. Bye.

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Thursday, September 01, 2005

Dag.

This is what I get when I decide to check out other people's blogs before going to bed:



However, I don't know why this startled me in the least.

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Finicky.

Some of you may have noticed that I've been on the Blog a lot in the past few days. You may have also noticed I've changed the template five thousand times.

I really liked the last one I had up before this one. Unfortunately, the image that went on the bottom left corner of the page was hosted on another site, and that site is going all wonky right now, denying you the pleasure of viewing what might be the most adorable rendering of the Grim Reaper I've seen in a dog's age. So, that prompted me to do some tweaking, and for now, this is what you're going to get.

Again, if anyone wants to take on the the task of designing a workable and kickass template, I'm all ears. Woo me.

So, we got a new guy at work this week. This has made me the "new girl" no longer; I am simply "the girl who used to be new, but is now just dumb as hell because she's still asking a thousand questions after doing this job for over a month."

It's a place of honor, really.

Anyway, when I found out we were getting another person on our team, and it was a guy, of course, my interest was peaked. Gotta fit that single, late 20's female stereotype, you know.

Oh, God. "Late twenties." I'm going to pretend that didn't just happen.

New guy walked in the other day. Had to be in his late 40's to early 50's. Wore a suit with a blue-green t-shirt. How very "Sonny, Sonny Crockett, King of Miami Vice!" of him.

Ah, yes. Just as Brenda is two-for-two in predicting my employment, I am three-for-three in getting into jobs lacking viable male suitors. Insert image of me shaking my fist at the sky here.

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Wednesday, August 31, 2005

The Help-A-Surly-Asian Foundation.

That is the name of the organization I'm going to start. I came up with the idea sometime late this morning, after the "Service Engine Soon" light came on in my car on the way to work. During his lunch, Sideshow was nice enough to take it to AutoZone to find out what might be wrong with it. Best they could tell, there's a problem with Xander's transmission.

Fahk.

So, this car repair thing is becoming more and more frequent lately, to the point that I feel like I'm throwing money at my car to just keep it running. And we all know how joyful transmission troubles are. On the way home today, every time I tried to accelerate, I felt like I was rolling in neutral. Sigh.

Long story short, there was mention made of shopping around for a new car. I detest the idea, but realize at the same time, it is eventually going to become very necessary, despite my lack of funds. Hence, I am starting the aforementioned fundraising effort, which you may simply call "The Surly Asian Foundation."

Of course, I complain here, but I am really not complaining about it. After all, things that have been happening in the past few years, even the past few days, that are constant reminders that no matter what happens, I've still been incredibly blessed. In other words, I'll get over it soon enough.

So, if you want to contribute to The Surly Asian Foundation, you may do so in the best way possible by volunteering or contributing to the helping organization of your choice.

I'm going to go and try to stop being a whiny asshole now.

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Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Post-It Transcription #01.

From a grand total of six Post-Its, at various points in my workday. Mind you, these are the slightly larger, rectangular Post-Its, better suited for my incessant rambling than the standard square ones.

Post-It #1:

I think I'm going to start blogging like this when I'm at work and can't get on the Net. I'll just scan them when I get home. Too difficult to read camera phone pictures.

Now that I've moved to my own cubicle island, things are going swimmingly. My previous location had me at the end of a row of four cubicles with low walls that allowed everyone to peer over at each other, which gave me little comfort as I was surrounded by weirdo oldsters (normal oldsters, on the other hand, kick total ass). Also, I was in a corner with two large windows, giving that warm, incubator feel, which I utterly detest. And chocolate melts way too quickly on that side of the office. But, that's beside the point.

Post-It #2:
Add the heat of the moment corner to being surrounded by Granola Cruncher, Ridiculous Southern Drawl (as opposed to Endearing Southern Drawl, a distant cousin), and Cap'n Asshat and his horridly cloying cologne...

Oh, what's that smell? Smells like LATE MID-LIFE CRISIS!

Sorry about that...

And you have what I like to call Cubicle Purgatory.
BTW, if you want to know more about Cap'n Asshat, sign up for the seminar. I waste entirely too much energy venting about that turd burglar, and I'm not about to devote a whole blog entry to him.

Post-It #3:
Now that I'm on my cubicle island at the opposite end of the office, the temperature is much better, and I have a higher cubicle wall on the side of my cube that faces others, preventing unnecessary eye contact with people I don't want to look at. The only thing I'm going to need to do is install a mirror in my cube. My back is to the door now, and it makes me feel very Martin Blank, if you do get my meaning.

People here think I'm weird, and more than once they've said that I'm just like my brother. I don't get that at all. I wear way more skirts than he does.

Post-It #4:
I am forever on the quest for a satisfying (and cost-free) template for the B World Blog. Of course, the one you are viewing now is cute as hell (ha!), but you know how I am about these things. I mean, how many times did I rearrange my furniture in college? Come on.

So, if you know anyone willing to do pro bono web design grunt work, let me know.

Word of the day: longshoreman.

Post-It #5:
I've got an hour to go... Work with me, people!

Haven't listened to Mr. Johnson in three days. Perhaps this is why there's so much tension in my shoulders and neck.

This last hour is always the toughest. The pace slows considerably, and the office gets quiet, and there are only three of us left for the last hour of operations. I always feel like I need more caffeine to get through the hour. Every afternoon for the past two weeks, I've taken to levitating Gobstoppers to kill time, like I did in high school. Viva Corporate America!
Editor's Note: The last line would've looked much better as it appears on the Post-It, as I am unable to produce an upside-down exclamation point the way it should be at the beginning of the sentence.

Post-It #6:

You know what? I think I'm finally getting used to signing my name without my credentials after it. I don't know quite how to feel about that.

-- My signature here --
Not for individual sale.

It's 5:30. I'm going, gone.

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Pointless.

So, I was wondering how I would be able to capture the precious moments that happen away from the computer, such as the ones that occur during work or elsewhere. I tried to do the mobile blogging thing w/the cell phone, but for some reason, when I send those blog entries in, the punctuation marks don't seem to translate very well (ampersands and colons all over the place, like a very gory grammar horror movie).

So, as I sat there in my little cubby today, I decided I would jot down bloggeries on Post-Its and scan them when I got home. Then, I'd post the scans on the blog. I thought it would be neat to see the "raw feed" of all the bullshit that comes out of my head.

That's what I did. When I got home, I hunkered down at the desktop and scanned away. Little did I realize that today was not a day for patience in scanning, resizing for the web, and getting the image to look right at a reasonable file size. I also discovered that this was not a day for trying to find another blog template to jazz up the blog. Fahk. I gave up after my eyes started hurting from trying to manipulate the image. Coincidentally, this happened at about the same time I got hungry, so it worked out in the end.

So, yeah, no Post-It scans today. You never know: I might be inclined to do them at a future date. But, the original Post-Its are sitting here sadly, waiting to be eaten by the dog, so I suppose I should just transcribe them.

Okay, I'll get right to that. Later.

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Monday, August 29, 2005

Another one from the job...

"The United Way... We're all about surly little white children!"

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Saturday, August 27, 2005

A Picture Share!

One of the funniest things I've ever seen.

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"Frames can't catch you when you're moving like that."

So, this is my official day to relax. Working forty hours in five days as opposed to ungodly hours in four seems to be a better pace for me, but it certainly makes me appreciate those precious two days of weekend. I had great plans for today, like running errands and taking a long walk in the park with Riley. I was going to keep busy. Silly me.

I got some things done, like going to the library, fueling up the car, and grabbing lunch, but the rain started soon after that, and I hence lost all motivation to do anything else. The rain drove me back home, and here I sat for a few moments, with the dangerous prospect of having nothing but time.

For the past few days, I've wrestled with a lot of past-present-future stuff, not helped along at all with the far-reaching tentacles that Googling permits. If nothing else, the Googling just added some ridiculously overpriced petrol to my nostalgic inferno. To make a long story short and save myself from further embarrassment, suffice it to say that Googling combined with free long distance can be a noxious pair. This did not bode well for my "nothing to do" state, since it gave me something (albeit a something quite dangerous to my waning sense of closure, but a "something" nonetheless) to do.

Thank goodness for an empty house and a voice mailbox that is so full of messages that it won't stand to take anymore.

I'd better stop babbling. This is making even less sense to me as I read it, and I supposedly know what the hell I'm talking about.

Right at this moment, I'm sitting on the couch with nothing but Riley fighting for lap space with the computer and Mr. Johnson filling up all that unnecessary silence. I've also got a blog entry that less than makes sense to anyone else. And that's fine with me.

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Thursday, August 25, 2005

Hey...Want to see something funny?

At a later date, I will go all apeshit about the dangers of Googling. For now, suffice it to say that said Googling lead me to an extraordinary find: my old website.

Yes, my Fortune City free site from the grad school years. Horror of horrors! Want to see it? Click here.

Surprisingly enough, the level of suck then isn't that much different from now. Hmm.





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Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Sleep rules.

Yes, I realize I haven't posted in a month. I've gotten some complaints. It's okay, since there really wasn't a lot of yelling. I will be on here again soon... It's just that since I get home at a reasonable hour from work now, I tend to want to just loaf with the Riles and watch as much Elliot Stabler as the law allows (and a little that it doesn't). So, now, I'm going to go do just that. Toodles.

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Monday, July 11, 2005

Going home before night falls...

I swear, it's got to be one of the better things on this Earth. Besides Riley waking me up with puppy snores, that is.

this is an audio post - click to play




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Sunday, July 10, 2005

Dennis can suck it.

this is an audio post - click to play

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"This is turning out worse than Stewie's iPod commercial!"

this is an audio post - click to play

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Saturday, June 18, 2005

Riley participates in a Poop Exchange Program.

I honestly believe that's true. I mean, I make it a point to pick up all of her deuces, no matter where we are, even if she drops in our own yard. It's just good manners. But there's a dog around here that's leaving deuces left and right, on our lawn and on neighboring lawns.

I'm just afraid that people will think it's Riley, because these poops are of a comparable size to her own donations to the Earth. Also, I tend to walk Riley in broad daylight, which may encourage suspicions that she's the only dog that exists on the block (never mind that I'm always carrying neon-orange pickup bags). Nevertheless, there are shits aplenty that aren't getting picked up, and I don't want Riles to get framed.

Seriously... I think we have a Phantom Pooper, and I think I know who it is. I have a strong feeling that it's the Shih-tzu (God, I hope I spelled that correctly) that lives next door with Queen Nosy-As-Shit and King Barely-Functioning-Alcoholic. Not only do they annoy me, but they sent both of their kids to Clown College. F them in the A.

Anyway, this little dog, who shall remain nameless, as he is but a blameless pooch, is almost never on a leash, and more than once, my Mom has had to help its stupid owners when they come knocking on the door to casually state that the dog has run off, and could we help? The dog will often be in my way, crossing the road to get back to his house (no doubt after leaving another phantom crap in another neighbor's yard), and I have to stop completely so as not to run him over, while the owner pays much more attention on watering her plants.

I don't want to even go into the whole garbage bin incident, or else blood will come trickling down my ear.

For real, is there an HRS or DC&F type of agency that I can call to rescue this dog from its ignorant owners? At the very least, it might stop the dog crap from magically appearing next to my Mom's car...

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Second Audio Post!

The concept behind this is just too overwhelming for me...
this is an audio post - click to play
My God... Do I actually sound like this? Why didn't somebody tell me???








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First Audio Blog!

this is an audio post - click to play
woot!

Technology rulz!!!




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Thursday, June 09, 2005

And now, the Dangerously Small Caucasian Head Next to the Conspicuously Huge Asian Cranium.

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
"Heed! Pants! Now!"
Told you guys I was scared to post this. I'm going away now.

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Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Big day.

So, I turned in my letter of resignation today, with little fanfare. The Hebrew Hammer offered me five bucks to "ruin" my supervisor's lunch by barging into her office with my letter. Ten if I galloped in with my best Happy Gilmore "happy place" midget impression. I declined on both counts.

My supervisor was actually pretty cool about it, even stating that "although we really need people like you in the field, we don't need you getting burned out and hating it." Which is exactly why I'm taking a break from it in the first place.

LoLo wants dibs on my office. Talk about blood in the friggin' water! I might as well paint the office walls with a fresh coat of chum.

I also managed to get the blessed mercy of both J.Co and my supervisor, and was allowed to leave work early so I could haul ass to the airport to meet up with Stumpy. That was fabulous. Five years of not seeing each other culminates in an hour and a half of utter happiness and silliness in the confines of the airport T.G.I.Fridays. Suffice it to say, the phrases "are nuts optional?", "filthy whore," "Oh my God, I look like my mother!", "anal probe," and dozens of other gems were used quite generously in that ninety minute span. We really scared the elderly airport crowd at Airside E. Too bad I don't have any video tape.

I would post a picture from our mini-reunion, but Stump has a dangerously small Caucasian head, which makes mine look gigantor in comparison. Forget that shit. But damn her for still being fucking gorgeous. I'm going to go hide in my little Asian cubby now.

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Tuesday, May 31, 2005

I promised myself...

I wouldn't quote Stevie Nicks in this post. And I really won't. I can't promise the same about Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam. You can't make me.

I just got off the phone with Stumpy. Apparently, she's going to be at TIA on a layover tomorrow evening, and wanted to know if I could meet up with her. Mind you, we haven't seen each other since, quite possibly, undergrad, and it would be the most wondrous of wonderful things to have a mini Beaver reunion...

But tomorrow is my "late night" at work.

Yet another reason to hate my job.

I think I'm going to try to finagle an early exit from the office tomorrow, should J.Co be so kind as to let me go. Because, if I can't go, and I miss the one opportunity I've had in several years to see Stumpy, I'm gonna lose it. And not in that quirky, "Eminem doing his impression of Pee Wee Herman" way, either.

Oh yes, my hurt will cause an inferno. (See? I told you I couldn't promise you anything!)

A lot has been happening lately; thus, my neglect of the World. But hopefully, after I turn in my resignation letter (how the hell do you word those, anyway? "Thanks for all the shit. I'm out!"?) and things settle, we'll be back with a vengeance.

For now, sleep. As Mr. Chappelle says, "Night night. Keep your butthole tight!" Or something of that ilk.

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Tuesday, May 17, 2005

To reiterate...

I know I'm repeating myself, but I find it important, even now, at this late date, to say:

Not Everyone Fucking Loves Raymond.

I realize it may seem a bit petty, but hell, he ragged on our sorority girls that time he was at Gator Growl. For cryin' out loud, nobody gets to rag on our sorority girls but us!

Whatever. At least for the time being, I don't need an excuse to avoid CBS on Monday nights. Oh wait, wasn't really a problem to begin with. Carry on, my wayward chums.

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Saturday, May 14, 2005

Oh, forget it.

So it took me a few thousand hours to realize the "new" blog template got rid of all these wonderful entry titles. Fahk. Back to normal, almost. I'm going to bed.

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Thursday, May 12, 2005

So, you may have noticed...

In the spirit of avoiding work and toiling of any kind, I changed up the blog template today. This one is courtesy of Hidden Anxiety. Thank you, whoever you are, for shaking it up a little for me. I was almost getting ill of pink.

And that would be horrible, Mr. Hat!

So, tell me what you think of it. I'm still getting used to it, myself. Then again, I find myself recently using a Firefox theme called "Pimpzilla," but that's beside the point.

Anyway, Happy Birthday to Super Mario today, too! In his grand tradition of austerity, we will not be hiring hookers this year. Crap!

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Wednesday, May 11, 2005

ISO another vacay.

And no, the weekend before last does not count! I was sick that Monday and Tuesday. God! Okay, maybe not feeling well, as opposed to "sick." I really didn't feel good about going to work those days. That's got to count for something.

I have worked three straight 12-hour days, and I have to tell you, it's getting mighty old. Today was one of those days where I was so exhausted by hour nine, I found myself trying to twist my lips so they'd stay shut so I wouldn't accidentally tell my client's haggard nag of a mother to shut the fuck up, already! It was very, very close to happening. And since she has no teeth, she sounds like Elmer Fudd, even when she's really serious, so it was everything I could do to hold myself together... especially after her sixteen-year-old son (poor guy) told her to "shut up, you toothless old hag!"

Again, it was an exercise in the greatest of restraint. Instead of commending him, as I so secretly wanted to do, I had to reprimand him for not being respectful to his mother, despite the fact that she so righteously deserved his barb. It's no wonder I got a massive headache after that session. Inner turmoil does that to you, I hear.

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Sunday, May 08, 2005

My patience wanes as night falls on Wal-Mart.

Full day today. Before I forget, a big shout-out to Moms, one and all. You put up with our sorry asses for many years, then let us go easily into the real world, muttering "Those fuckers will figure it out soon enough!" under your breath. For that, and for not killing us in infancy, we salute you!

Moving on... It was a fabulous day today, since it was both Mother's Day and my folks' anniversary. Spent most of the day at my bro's, sharing a meal with the fam and fiddling with decorating Sideshow's pad. After I left my brother's, I decided to grab a keyboard to put on my laptop desk in my room so I could use the laptop with the monitor and docking station while I was at home.

Since it was after seven on a Sunday night, I decided to head to the nearby Wal-Mart, which, much to my chagrin, is always busiest and most full of idiots when I really need just one simple thing.

This evening proved to be no different. The place was teeming with people doing last-minute grocery/Mother's Day shopping (for shame!) and various children simply milling about, getting in my way. I quickly proceeded to the Electronics Department, found the cheapest keyboard at $6.97, and proceeded to the checkout.

Once there, it rang up as $9.98, and I told the cashier that I would go back and check the price, although I was sure it was correct, and allow her to check out the two patrons behind me in the meantime.

I got back to the keyboards, grabbed another one, and brought it to one of those price-check scanners. It rang up as $9.98 there as well, so I went back to the shelf. There were maybe 30 of the same keyboard, all on the shelf marked $6.97. I decided to take a picture of the price, then headed back to my register.

By the time I got there, there was only one family ahead of me, but they had a cart that was packed to the gills, and had already filled the conveyor belt with their stuff. When I ended up behind them, they had just realized that they were goofing off in the store so long, the ice cream they put in their cart at the beginning of their shopping trip was melting, and started leaking out of the carton and onto the conveyor. belt. It took them about three minutes to complain about this, and say that they took so long their ice cream was melting and they didn't want it anymore, and make the cashier come from her position behind the register to their side of the belt and clean it up.

I stood behind them, patiently.

Then the Mom discovered that whoever put the bread in their cart managed to put it under something heavier, which squished the bread. So, she sent her teenaged daughter, who looked about as useful as an asshole on an elbow (props to you, QT!) to get a newer loaf, and she did so, groaning as she left.

In the meantime, the cashier kept ringing up their purchases, and someone I can only assume is the Dad, who looked about as useful as a second asshole on an elbow, just kept piling up shit on the conveyor belt in ridiculous piles that the cashier had to carefully maneuver then re-pile more sensibly in order to bag them. The kid came back, then her Mom asked her, "Is the Tylenol there?"

"I guess so," the kid said, absent-mindedly.

Mom then proceeds to ask the cashier, who by this point, has scanned about three hundred things, whether or not she scanned a pack of Tylenol. The cashier stops to dutifully review the receipt so far, and determines that no Tylenol was scanned.

The Mom, exasperated, leaves the line to get the Tylenol, muttering about how her daughter drives her "insane" as she goes, while her daughter absent-mindedly twirls her hair.

Meanwhile, the harried cashier continues to scan products coming from this fucking clown car of a shopping cart.

Mom returns with the Tylenol. Scanning continues, and daughter momentarily freaks out because she can't find her cell phone. Mom shows little sympathy, then daughter recovers it from her back pocket. The world breathes a collective sigh of relief.

I check my phone. Seven minutes have gone by since I got back in line.

Daughter spots some friends or family members. They get in line in front of me to greet the Clown Cart Family. I am relieved that I don't have to kick anybody's ass when they realize there are actually others in line before them, and they go to find another register.

Another register opens up nearby, and the cashier calls out for anyone waiting in line. The Mom slugs me in the arm and tells me that another register is opening. I tell her I have to wait in line at this one, because I have a price discrepancy issue. The cashier, still scanning items, nods in agreement at the Mom. Mom, daughter, and Dad all stand there, Dad forever loading the belt.

Ten minutes have gone by at this point. I can't move, and have to wait because my purchase is in this line. I start to look at the floor to avoid watching this family dumbly stand around.

Finally, the total is rung up to over two hundred dollars. Mom maneuvers her way from where the wheel-o'-bags is, back to the little counter where the ATM/Credit Card scanner is, and proceeds to put her big-ass "Boots N' Bags" (or whatever the hell it was called) purse on the little counter, then rummages through said big-ass purse to find her checkbook.

No, no, no, no, don't phunk with my heart! (I know Fergie feels my pain.)

I feel like I am slowly dying inside.

Mom proceeds to fill out her check (rather slowly, in my opinion), then tells the cashier that she doesn't need to look at her license, because she already put that information on the check. A manager happens to be standing nearby, and says she just wants to make sure everything on the check is accurate.

This launches the Mom in to a two-minute tirade about how she actually tries to make it easier on cashiers by putting her driver's license number on her checks, because she was a cashier once, and it's really unecessary for her to have to present her ID. Well, give this lady a fucking Nobel Prize, already!

Twelve minutes, and I think my calf may be cramping.

Finally, the purchase has been completed, and the family is on their way out the door. The cashier tells me to follow her to her register to complete my own purchase. Well, where the fuck were we just standing, Montreal?

She takes me to a podium where the manager is standing, explains the price discrepancy, and the manager states, "Yeah, you can do a price adjust." Then we proceed to another register (apparently "hers,") and she rings up the keyboard for $6.97. Hallelujah, thank you for coming. I bust ass out of there to avoid any further annoyance in my evening.

Now, I sit here, typing on the very same keyboard I purchased after waiting about half an hour in agony, and retell you my sorry tale of stupidity in commerce. Moral of the story? Shit, I have no idea. There are so many potential ones. Don't be an idiot; get your checkbook out and start filling out the check in advance, maybe. Wal-Mart can even fill in your check for you. Don't go into a big stink about how you used to be a "whatever," too, so you "know how things work." If you "know how things work," just accept it and follow the rules; don't fucking complain and waste other people's time with your righteous retail attitude.

Whatever you do, don't get ice cream at the beginning of your shopping trip and fuck around for two hours so it melts, then complain that it's melting while you wave it around, making a mess for others to clean up.

Agh, my head hurts. I need a drink. I think I'll have one of those Diet Cokes sweetened with Splenda. Maybe my taste buds are shot, but that really seems to taste a lot like regular Coke to me.

Dammit. There's another thing I forgot to get at Wal-Mart. I can't fucking win!

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Friday, May 06, 2005

I don't know what's worse...

The horrible joke I made coming back from our Cinco de Mayo festivities, or the fact that LoLo laughed so hard at it.

See, she was driving us back to our cars, and her leftovers were sitting on the dashboard. Well, when she stepped on the gas to go when the light turned green, the leftovers flew backward, and I managed to catch the to-go box in my left hand, keeping the contents safely ensconced within.

Impressed with my cat-like reflexes, something was mentioned about the difficulty level of getting guacamole out of your shirt, and J.Co said, "Just Shout! it out!"

I, of course, having no beer in my system, stated, "Yeah, I tried that once. It didn't work so well. I just stood there, screaming at my clothing."

J.Co said it was horrible, and although LoLo agreed, she still laughed at it while admitting it was horrible that she was laughing at it so hard. What can I say? I aim to please.

All this after an evening of verbal abuse and stinging slaps to my upper arm. This is what I get for trying to tell jokes to drunk people.

Damned Five of Mayonnaise, ruining it for everybody!

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Thursday, April 28, 2005

So, Katie...

I heard that you were dating Tom Cruise. You have a whole actual teenager's worth of age between you, since he's 42 and you're not (I mean, 26). And you just broke up with Chris (was it the whole DWI thing? Because, I can understand if you don't want to be in one of those 12-Step relationships and whatnot).

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
Uh, eww.

Wow. I really wonder how this happened. And when I told Lori, I had to move to the side to avoid any potential flying vomit. But if you're happy, I guess I am. Just don't get any navy blue pants and white short-sleeved blouses yet. And maybe hold off on reading any L. Ron Hubbard for a bit. You know, save it for if you guys get real serious.

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"I love my sister... She's the best!"

Happy Birthday to young Erin, who turns younger than me today! She's busy trying to become a doctor and whatnot, so she has tunneled herself away in some medically-related hole for some time now, with little more than her enormous cranium and some soy cheese to keep her company.

Erin, I love you, and don't forget the advice I gave you before you began this medicinal endeavor:

"Hey, jackhole, don't forget: Don't become an asshole when you get to med school, like the rest of 'em!"
Well, maybe I put it more delicately than that.

I am now going to go do my laundry with some detergent named after a song by Nelson. Later!

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Tuesday, April 26, 2005

"Capa-town," my ass!

I just wanted to let you know that this weekend, at the barbecue I attended twice (meaning once with Danhole and again later with Riley, not meaning I attended it, had a "rewind day" a-la-Tru Calling, and re-lived it), I managed to find someone who not only appreciated my bright yellow "Liger" t-shirt, but also proceeded to spend the next five minutes spouting off favorite Napoleon quotes.

And, if that weren't enough, this person also managed to proudly proclaim a deep-felt affection for Pootie Tang (another one unabashedly close to my own heart), so deep that he bought the DVD twice (because someone stole the first one, which makes me wonder who the hell would steal a copy of Pootie Tang, and also makes me surprised that it wasn't me who did it).

I love it when you click with someone over something absolutely unconsequential, but treat it like you've just discovered the friggin' Holy Grail. I may potentially add this person to my meager will, identifying him only as one of my "main damies." Yeah, that's what I think I'll do. Sa-da-tay!

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"Did you happen to eat a gall boulder, then fall on your stomach?"

That show is just good!

So, the desktop computer and television have been moved into the vacated room across the hall. I still don't get why it was decided that my tele would be moved, as I now have no way to effectively fall asleep to it. Crap.

The desktop is going to be rebuilt (version 180.3 or something) sometime soon, and the laptop is going to reside in my room. At the very least, there aren't any wires running through the hallway that would entice Riley to nibble.

Now, the only thing that's going to be a bitch is that I have to put back everything that was cluttering my entertainment center and desk in some order (it's currently chaos packed into open boxes).

I haven't had much time to post lately. I've been cramming appointments into four working days, trying to keep productivity at decent levels. Also, I'm heading out on Friday morning for a five-day sojourn up the coast. Soooo, it's pretty much been head-up-my-own-ass time the past week or two.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's some dusting that needs to be done yesterday.

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Saturday, April 23, 2005

Just an FYI.

My curiosity peaked due to the mini-maelstrom this afternoon, I sought out this little nugget of information, which is repeated often on other websites:

If it rains on your wedding day, you'll shed many tears during your married life.
Hmm. You don't say. Interesting.

There was another superstition about rain on your wedding day meaning you'd have lots of children, but I'm choosing to ignore that one. Pretty much a moot point, if you ask me. And I didn't see that one on more than two or three sites. So, there.

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Thursday, April 21, 2005

Very bad things.

As one can infer from my previous post (see below), extreme irritation + the "Repeat" option on your mp3 player + obvious lack of chocolate = horrible emotional death drop. I'm sorry for all of that rot. Actually, no, I'm not sorry at all. It is what it is.

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Wednesday, April 20, 2005

"I waited for you here, but you never showed."

Thank you, Mr. Sweet, for the above, and the following:

I thought I knew you. I was in for a surprise. I let my love flow from my heart into your eyes. And then I found out that there was nothing I could know, or guess, about you. You'd go as far as you could go.

And it took me years to figure out that there was nothing I could give to you. And years to figure out that there was nothing you would take from me. And how can I describe the way you slowly took my hope away?

And all of the time, I thought I knew you.

I thought I knew you. But I wasn't even close. I had my heart set on little more than a ghost. And I thought I'd show you there was no way we could lose. I thought I'd force you to realize and choose.

And it took me years to figure out that there was nothing I could show to you. Years to figure out that you were never really going to choose. And how can I describe the way I slowly lost my love for you?

And all of the time, I thought I knew you.

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Monday, April 18, 2005

Best. Quote. Ever.

Someone told me something that really whacked me upside the head and left me stunned. I had half a mind to whoop this person's lily white ass. But then, said person redeemed herself when she said the following about an upcoming family event:

"Man, I'm gonna show up with my new tits, and I'm gonna wear the lowest-cut dress I can find, and I'm gonna say, 'Look what your Pentecostal ass is missing!"
I kiss the ground she walks on. I truly do. Names have been withheld to protect... well, me.

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Monday, April 11, 2005

"Are you telling me that my note made you realize that you're gay?"

"Let me tell you something: come 10th year reunion, that tiara... is mine!"

Sorry. Just been catching up on my
Tru Calling, is all. What a fabulous birthday present in a community gift bag that was!

I watched the "Reunion" episode tonight. Really struck a chord with me. So much so that I had to eat a triple-scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone to cope. My needs are simple. My wants, ridiculous.

Some observations from the last few days:

  • According to the front window at Burrito Brothers in Gainesville, they're going to open another one in Tampa by the end of the year! Break out the Ziplocs!
  • On the car ride home, Sarah and I realized that her official theme song should be "Oops... I Did It Again." I can't believe we actually came to a consensus on that one.
  • The possibility of 14 straight hours of karaoke is harrowing, to say the least.
  • I don't need no stinkin' sunscreen.
  • The 2005 UF Football season is looking better and better every day.
  • My dog is still an avid Law & Order fan.
  • With my impending takeover of Sideshow's old room, should the computer and tele move in there, do I call it a "Media Room," a "Library," or "The Copacetic Room"?
And major props to anyone who understood that last reference. Byron, how I miss you. You were like Brian from Zanesville, Ohio during freshman year, except you were much cuter and your cranium wasn't quite so massive...

Sorry, I digress.

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Friday, April 08, 2005

Law and Hors d'oeuvres.

I just had a fabulous idea while downing my fiftieth glass of Caffeine Free Diet Coke. The next in the long line of series in the Law & Order franchise should focus on all the eating that occurs during the defense of justice on the mean streets of New York City, particularly, the appetizers!

And instead of the "cha-chunk!" sound that plays during most of the scene transitions, they could sound a bell like in a diner, or a burp, or... oh, never mind. But I've got a good start, right?

Gah, I'm just going to fall asleep to another airing of L&O:SVU. It's a wonder I don't have litigious nightmares. Got a big day tomorrow, have to catch some rest. Love and devotion, thy name is Elliot Stabler. Goodnight.

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Feeling like a slug.

It seems as though my mental exhaustion knows no limits. I sit here, transfixed to the screen, and I have absolutely no motivation to do any of the tasks I have set before myself today.

This morning, Riley showed similar motivation. When I tried to get her out of bed so that we could go on her constitutional, she just looked at me and put her paw on my hand with the leash in it, as if to say, "No way, lady... ten more minutes!" I had to concur, and went back to bed. Then, my dog proceeded to try to eat my face. Silly little rascal!

Earlier this week, right before having the shittiest Wednesday on record, I was coming off another late Tuesday night when I decided to stop in to the Radio Shack to see about getting another FM transmitter. Before leaving, the ZipZaps display caught my eye, and I noticed that they had a black Dodge Viper available. I quickly purchased that, a ZipZaps Bigfoot Monster Truck, and hauled ass to Jimmy's Mom's house so that we could start up the Clearwater Kitchen Speedway.

Jimmy was quite surprised I bought him the Viper; I told him quickly that it was the only Viper I could afford to get him, ever. After assembling our vehicles (funny how this little R/C seemed to befuddle one of the great military engineering minds of our time), we proceeded to run a ridiculous number of laps from the beginning of the kitchen (where the carpet from the dining room ends), through the den, under the dish cabinet, around the back leg of it, and back to the fridge.

It was harrowing. Jimmy's Viper was so quick, the handling was ridiculously tight, and he went flying everywhere. The only reason I managed to win a decent number of races was because my truck was less sensitive to steer. But that didn't stop Jimmy from needing a "best three out of five," then a "best five out of seven," and so on and so on. I'm not kidding, we managed to break a sweat racing these damned things.

Eventually, Jimmy got the hang of steering the Viper. But I still beat him soundly. It was a fun way to spend some of the tiny bit of time he was in town. Next at the Adkins Kitchen Motor Speedway: Boggin' in the MUD!

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Thursday, April 07, 2005

"Oh, my God. That's awesome. You totally have to do that!"

The above affirmation is why I would throw myself in front of a moving bus for Steph. What prompted it? I'll never tell.

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Tuesday, April 05, 2005

"Matty! THRILLER!"

Sorry, I just had to get that one out. I feel better now.

Craziness abounded, as usual, at work today. I had a ton of no-shows (which just make me feel like my day gets less productive as it goes on). One kid was pretty clever with her approach, however. The mom called the front desk to let us know that her daughter "Just jumped out of the car on the way to the appointment," saying that Mom would never see her again. It made me wonder if I personally did something to piss the kid off so much that she didn't want to come to therapy. But after two seconds of that wasted time, I moved on.

At least I ended the day well. My last kid managed to come in early, and he's a cool little skate kid who doesn't mind talking. Now, if I could only get him to stop beating the living crap out of his brother, we'd be golden...

Eyes hurt. Shutting them now.

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