I've been a Laker fan for as long as I can remember, and some of my best memories from childhood are watching the playoff games on TV with my dad (my OTHER fond memories of youth mostly consist of building dams with my cousin in the wash behind my uncles house, and annoying the shit out of my older sister (flush the toilet to make the shower hot! nice!)) In any case, pretty much the only reason I ordered cable TV was to see the Laker games.
When I went to watch the opening night game, however, I discovered to my dismay that my cable wasn't working properly. Everything from 21-50 was just static, I was only getting the local/national channels... OH, and lifetime and MTV, thank god. I don't know what I would do with myself If I couldn't watch womens liberation propaganda and horrible reality TV every second of every day. I called up the Comcast guy to complain, and it turns out.. I don't have basic cable. I have sub-basic cable, which is just the local channels plus 8 more, and they PURPOSEFULLY pick the channels that no one would ever deliberately watch.
Needless to say I was pissed. Its like buying a discount car at a great price, but then discovering that the engine and wheels have been removed, replaced by a small orphan boy sitting under the hood making motor boat sounds and a half dozen moldy bagels. Cheap? Sure. Useful for any purpose other than little rascals nostalgia? No.
The oh-so-helpful man then told me I could just upgrade my package to the next one up, and then I would get ESPN. It would cost just fifty five bucks a month. FIFTY FIVE? I would deliberately jam metal antennae into random places in my brain in the hope of picking up satellite reception in my eyeballs before I would pay 55 dollars a month. I don't have enough money to buy toilet paper (you don't want to know how I've managed), much less order 50 more channels when I only want exactly one of them. Which brings me to my next point; Job hunting.
I've applied every place I can think of, with no success, so I've started cold-calling potential employers to remind them that I am still here. Just in case they, you know... forgot somehow. The calls are generally pretty straightforward, I say something like "Hello, I applied here XX time ago, and wanted to reaffirm my interest in the position" and get the response "Ah thank you kind sir, your interest has been duly noted, and might I add that you sound both rugged and manly? If you would care to copulate behind the dumpster later, please inform me so that I may schedule my break accordingly."
...Ahem. In any case, the calls often end up being quite awkward, and I start feeling like a complete moron who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Nothing for it but to keep trying though, I figure if I keep it up, I will either annoy someone into giving me a job, Or maybe sire a bastard or three. Its a win-win either way.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Snow Ultimate
How hard do you think it is to play Ultimate Frisbee in a blizzard? Harder than free climbing a rock wall using only your teeth and knees. Harder than sitting though "Where the Heart Is" without gouging your eyes out with a melon baller. Harder than eating one Reeses Piece, and not immediately proceeding to eat 30 more.
You can barely see, you can't feel your hands, and you're trying to catch a wet disk that blends into the snow flying towards you at a bazillion feet per second. Also the disk itself is being pelted and having its flight-path altered, there are giants in blue clothing trying to tackle you, and the ground is slippery-er than than a python lathered in astroglide chasing a penguin in an ice-rink.
These conditions were simply too much for the stalwart Mighty Bucks, who were defeated in the second round of the tournament today. A moment of silence for their valiant efforts. More to come, mood permitting.
You can barely see, you can't feel your hands, and you're trying to catch a wet disk that blends into the snow flying towards you at a bazillion feet per second. Also the disk itself is being pelted and having its flight-path altered, there are giants in blue clothing trying to tackle you, and the ground is slippery-er than than a python lathered in astroglide chasing a penguin in an ice-rink.
These conditions were simply too much for the stalwart Mighty Bucks, who were defeated in the second round of the tournament today. A moment of silence for their valiant efforts. More to come, mood permitting.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
thoughts...
When I finished writing that last blog, I tried to go to sleep.
Then realized that there could be a malevolent entity standing over me, just WAITING for me to fall asleep so he could rub his dirty paws all over me. ewwwww. While I may not have too much success with the ladies, I'm sure to the demonic world there is nothing more appealing than a 21 year old virgin. I am a very rare specimen... There aren't many of us LEFT you know (as long as you don't count mormons). I'm like a hotcake covered in crack and then rolled in 1000 dollar bills to these guys.
So I can't sleep. Apparently the movie was better than I thought, at least 3/5.
If I get dragged off tonight and disappear, no-one look under my bed. seriously there is nothing there.
Then realized that there could be a malevolent entity standing over me, just WAITING for me to fall asleep so he could rub his dirty paws all over me. ewwwww. While I may not have too much success with the ladies, I'm sure to the demonic world there is nothing more appealing than a 21 year old virgin. I am a very rare specimen... There aren't many of us LEFT you know (as long as you don't count mormons). I'm like a hotcake covered in crack and then rolled in 1000 dollar bills to these guys.
So I can't sleep. Apparently the movie was better than I thought, at least 3/5.
If I get dragged off tonight and disappear, no-one look under my bed. seriously there is nothing there.
Paranormal Activity
As the title suggests, I just saw paranormal activity with a friend. It was... ok. There were quite a few moments where I was scared/excited, but it always seemed to dissipate without anything really "happening", as though I was getting pulled up to the top of a roller coaster... and then just coasting straight, instead of dropping. The most entertaining moment was when a guy in the back of the theater yelled "Take the god-damn camera!"
Normally I oppose gore, but this movie needed some. A few gobs of it here and there (especially at the very end) would have improved it significantly. If this movie had reached some kind of crescendo, I would give it 5 stars... as it stands it gets a dismal 2/5 from me.
Today I got a call from a company that wanted to hire me! Not only that, they wanted me to start immediately! as in today! Of course I was thrilled, because this would mean that I would finally have a reliable source of income (not that I don't LOVE taking out an additional $500 loan every month...)
However, something seemed... odd... when I called the woman back. She mentioned that I had had an excellent interview, but she was confused I could not work afternoons since she did not remember me being a student. I had never interviewed with them. Turns out, they somehow attached MY name and number to a completely different dude. I asked if I could work some other shift, but it turned out the job they had open was for a delivery driver, and I don't have the license needed to drive the truck.
I am getting pretty frustrated here.
The day wasn't a TOTAL loss though... at least I'm out 10 bucks.
Normally I oppose gore, but this movie needed some. A few gobs of it here and there (especially at the very end) would have improved it significantly. If this movie had reached some kind of crescendo, I would give it 5 stars... as it stands it gets a dismal 2/5 from me.
Today I got a call from a company that wanted to hire me! Not only that, they wanted me to start immediately! as in today! Of course I was thrilled, because this would mean that I would finally have a reliable source of income (not that I don't LOVE taking out an additional $500 loan every month...)
However, something seemed... odd... when I called the woman back. She mentioned that I had had an excellent interview, but she was confused I could not work afternoons since she did not remember me being a student. I had never interviewed with them. Turns out, they somehow attached MY name and number to a completely different dude. I asked if I could work some other shift, but it turned out the job they had open was for a delivery driver, and I don't have the license needed to drive the truck.
I am getting pretty frustrated here.
The day wasn't a TOTAL loss though... at least I'm out 10 bucks.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Ode to Failure
I woke up early to finish (ok fine... begin) my Analysis homework. Now, Analysis has "Anal" in the name for a reason; Everything must be done exactly perfect on the first try, or Archimedes will personally descend from heaven (or ascend from hell, who knows) and kick your ass 12th century style. Medieval beatings aside, I wasn't too worried about getting a good grade, as I have a long track record of doing well on half-assed work... but I discovered that the homework was due yesterday by 6pm. Its complete crapballs, but on the plus side, I'm AWAKE at 5:15, which is my very favorite-est thing in the whole world.
I was recently informed that my favorite beer, Bud Light Lime, is girly. For about 30 seconds I was appalled, and considered attempting to find a NEW favorite beer... then I came to my senses and realized that I like it because it tastes good, not because anyone else likes it. Clearly, "Girly" means "Delicious". I should grind up a couple my little ponies into a spreadable powder to put on my eggs, or maybe try putting some franks sauce on a poster of a dolphin (jumping out of the water, a moon in the backround) and eating it with some french fries.
I was recently informed that my favorite beer, Bud Light Lime, is girly. For about 30 seconds I was appalled, and considered attempting to find a NEW favorite beer... then I came to my senses and realized that I like it because it tastes good, not because anyone else likes it. Clearly, "Girly" means "Delicious". I should grind up a couple my little ponies into a spreadable powder to put on my eggs, or maybe try putting some franks sauce on a poster of a dolphin (jumping out of the water, a moon in the backround) and eating it with some french fries.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Days... of our lives.
A few days ago I was sitting down (as I often do), and decided that I would rather be standing up. Little did I know that this seemingly innocuous decision would ultimately make the next few days of my life an exercise in ouchiness. When I first began to stand, everything felt fine, when I became fully erect however... It was as though my spine was made of funny bones in place of vertebrae, and I had hit all of them simultaneously.
The pain lancing through my lower back brought me to the floor, where I remained for about 30 minutes. When I finally mustered enough courage to attempt movement, I discovered that I could actually get about just fine, so long as I didn't bend, twist or breathe. I also discovered a new skill; I possess the ability to make AND eat ramen with my upper-body parallel to the ground.
I skipped class the next day, since traveling at even snail-like speeds made me feel like there was an industrious dwarf mining my coccyx for mithril. Who the hell named the coccyx the coccyx? Could they possibly have chosen a more ludicrous spelling? No, it is the stupidest word ever. In any case... The day off was a good idea, as I am pretty much OK now. I'm still getting an occasional twinge of pain when I practice my back hand springs, but for the most part I am healed.
Friday night me and a couple friends went out to partake in the mirth and the merry-making, but The friend who knew where we were going (she shall remain nameless, but her name rhymes with "guy-sha") apparently did NOT know where we were going. We walked in circles for a while, asking directions twice, before I saw something I can only describe as a "mass exodus". About 60 super-model-caliber women filed past us in flocks of 8-12, fleeing like rats off a sinking ship. One of them overheard that we were looking for (man)'s party, and explained that she was just leaving, and gave directions. Naturally, I was thrilled about this, since the BEST way to get enthusiastic about an event is to see dozens of gorgeous women leaving just as you arrive.
We get to the party (though I use the word loosely) to find just ONE girl, forlornly sitting on the stairs and holding her head. She was surrounded by a dozen neanderthals cavorting about in animal skins, flinging their own shit at each other in drunken glee. Ok, maybe thats a slight exaggeration, but... no, actually thats pretty accurate. We left that sorry event like they were giving mandatory aids shots, and went to IHOP. Pancakes and chicken strips were eaten, fun was had, and a potentially horrendous night was salvaged.
Tonight I went to a hibachi restaurant for my dads birthday, and I decided it would be a great chance to use some of the Japanese I've been learning. I ordered using the phrase "Niwatori to hebi onegai shimasu". We went about our business, my food arrived, and I continued to talk to the waitress in Japanese, saying things like "Could I have some more tea" and "Thank you, it is very good". about 15 minutes later, I said to her "Sumimasen, kyoo wa watashi no chichi no tanjyoubi desu" (excuse me, today is my fathers birthday) to which she replied "I'm sorry... I'm not Japanese." I then realized that I had ordered "Chicken and Snake" not "Chicken and shrimp". At least there was no one there to call me out on it.
The pain lancing through my lower back brought me to the floor, where I remained for about 30 minutes. When I finally mustered enough courage to attempt movement, I discovered that I could actually get about just fine, so long as I didn't bend, twist or breathe. I also discovered a new skill; I possess the ability to make AND eat ramen with my upper-body parallel to the ground.
I skipped class the next day, since traveling at even snail-like speeds made me feel like there was an industrious dwarf mining my coccyx for mithril. Who the hell named the coccyx the coccyx? Could they possibly have chosen a more ludicrous spelling? No, it is the stupidest word ever. In any case... The day off was a good idea, as I am pretty much OK now. I'm still getting an occasional twinge of pain when I practice my back hand springs, but for the most part I am healed.
Friday night me and a couple friends went out to partake in the mirth and the merry-making, but The friend who knew where we were going (she shall remain nameless, but her name rhymes with "guy-sha") apparently did NOT know where we were going. We walked in circles for a while, asking directions twice, before I saw something I can only describe as a "mass exodus". About 60 super-model-caliber women filed past us in flocks of 8-12, fleeing like rats off a sinking ship. One of them overheard that we were looking for (man)'s party, and explained that she was just leaving, and gave directions. Naturally, I was thrilled about this, since the BEST way to get enthusiastic about an event is to see dozens of gorgeous women leaving just as you arrive.
We get to the party (though I use the word loosely) to find just ONE girl, forlornly sitting on the stairs and holding her head. She was surrounded by a dozen neanderthals cavorting about in animal skins, flinging their own shit at each other in drunken glee. Ok, maybe thats a slight exaggeration, but... no, actually thats pretty accurate. We left that sorry event like they were giving mandatory aids shots, and went to IHOP. Pancakes and chicken strips were eaten, fun was had, and a potentially horrendous night was salvaged.
Tonight I went to a hibachi restaurant for my dads birthday, and I decided it would be a great chance to use some of the Japanese I've been learning. I ordered using the phrase "Niwatori to hebi onegai shimasu". We went about our business, my food arrived, and I continued to talk to the waitress in Japanese, saying things like "Could I have some more tea" and "Thank you, it is very good". about 15 minutes later, I said to her "Sumimasen, kyoo wa watashi no chichi no tanjyoubi desu" (excuse me, today is my fathers birthday) to which she replied "I'm sorry... I'm not Japanese." I then realized that I had ordered "Chicken and Snake" not "Chicken and shrimp". At least there was no one there to call me out on it.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Live that funky liiiiiife white-boy
This morning I was walking to class, and a dude with a clipboard (those guys that want your money to save the environment, or to help send their niece's scout troop to Azerbaijan to build bird-houses or some BS) asked me
Dude - How are you doing today sir?
Me - Shitty, thanks for bringing it up
Dude - *gets nervous look on his face* I'm sorry to hear that... could I have five minutes of your time?
Me - *dirty look, derisive snort* No.
Have you ever been in a bad funk and couldn't get out of it no matter how you tried? You find yourself just drifting along, taking pleasure in nothing? Normally innocuous events send you into a murderous rage, or cause you to burst into tears?
Over the last few days I've not been acting my usual witty, charming, hilarious self. I elbowed a guy on the bus because he made accidental physical contact with me. I tried to play some Halo, and began to cry when a grunt begged me for mercy. Now to any sane person, the desperate groveling of a doomed alien would elicit maniacal laughter, quickly followed by a melee to the head, or a "just for fun" grenade stick. But no. Gut-wrenching sobs.
I tried to cure my funk by smothering it in booze, deliberately imbibing three times the daily recommended value in the hope of erasing bits of my mind. Instead of making things better, I made an ass of myself by committing the most grave of all possibly party offenses. Yes, the great taboo of taboos, evil of all evils; I misquoted the Princess Bride. I can never show my face to those people again... not now that they know what my innermost self is capable of. Like a pardoned pedophile... I can't just go back to how it was before. Former friends gaze on me with distrustful eyes, carefully hiding their copies of "The Holy Grail" behind locked doors when I come to visit.
Another folly of recent days was when I ordered 3 pizzas and a dozen hot wings, thinking that some of my favorite food would improve my mood. My room-mate was offered none of this cheesy deliciousness... forced instead to sit in on the floor in darkness, timidly eating his meager gruel with a crust of stale bread while I feasted less than ten feet away. In communist Russia (or modern day Africa) I would have been publicly stoned for such wanton selfishness...
Yes, I've been in a funk most funky. Music sounded cacophonous and empty simultaneously, sleep wasn't restful, I had no desire to eat peanut butter. France wasn't even funny. Something was horribly wrong with me. About 3 hours ago, this all changed. I saw this video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeP1Klmk0ng&feature=player_embedded#
(copy-paste it, I can't get it to be "clickable")
And began laughing harder and more honestly than I have in days. Upon realizing that this song somehow said everything I was thinking, I also realized that my thoughts are completely ridiculous. I was able to laugh at myself... proving for all time that laughter really is the best medicine (or at least better than booze and hot wings). Things are good. I'm an idiot, but NOT a hopeless idiot. The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Dude - How are you doing today sir?
Me - Shitty, thanks for bringing it up
Dude - *gets nervous look on his face* I'm sorry to hear that... could I have five minutes of your time?
Me - *dirty look, derisive snort* No.
Have you ever been in a bad funk and couldn't get out of it no matter how you tried? You find yourself just drifting along, taking pleasure in nothing? Normally innocuous events send you into a murderous rage, or cause you to burst into tears?
Over the last few days I've not been acting my usual witty, charming, hilarious self. I elbowed a guy on the bus because he made accidental physical contact with me. I tried to play some Halo, and began to cry when a grunt begged me for mercy. Now to any sane person, the desperate groveling of a doomed alien would elicit maniacal laughter, quickly followed by a melee to the head, or a "just for fun" grenade stick. But no. Gut-wrenching sobs.
I tried to cure my funk by smothering it in booze, deliberately imbibing three times the daily recommended value in the hope of erasing bits of my mind. Instead of making things better, I made an ass of myself by committing the most grave of all possibly party offenses. Yes, the great taboo of taboos, evil of all evils; I misquoted the Princess Bride. I can never show my face to those people again... not now that they know what my innermost self is capable of. Like a pardoned pedophile... I can't just go back to how it was before. Former friends gaze on me with distrustful eyes, carefully hiding their copies of "The Holy Grail" behind locked doors when I come to visit.
Another folly of recent days was when I ordered 3 pizzas and a dozen hot wings, thinking that some of my favorite food would improve my mood. My room-mate was offered none of this cheesy deliciousness... forced instead to sit in on the floor in darkness, timidly eating his meager gruel with a crust of stale bread while I feasted less than ten feet away. In communist Russia (or modern day Africa) I would have been publicly stoned for such wanton selfishness...
Yes, I've been in a funk most funky. Music sounded cacophonous and empty simultaneously, sleep wasn't restful, I had no desire to eat peanut butter. France wasn't even funny. Something was horribly wrong with me. About 3 hours ago, this all changed. I saw this video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeP1Klmk0ng&feature=player_embedded#
(copy-paste it, I can't get it to be "clickable")
And began laughing harder and more honestly than I have in days. Upon realizing that this song somehow said everything I was thinking, I also realized that my thoughts are completely ridiculous. I was able to laugh at myself... proving for all time that laughter really is the best medicine (or at least better than booze and hot wings). Things are good. I'm an idiot, but NOT a hopeless idiot. The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Epic Struggle
Sometimes, a man just doesn't know what he wants in life. What is best for the man, and what the man "thinks" he wants, are only vaguely similar things. Double cheeseburger and strawberry shake, or chicken sandwich? $700 banjo, or RENT for 2 months? Do homework, or watch LOST*? In case you couldn't tell, the man is me.
*I've noticed something odd while watching LOST... the women are always perfectly clean, and have skillfully applied makeup. How are they managing to find eye liner and lipstick on an island that barely even has food? Also... How are they keeping their armpits and legs shaved with NO RAZORS? I suppose this is one of those times I just have to accept the lack of realism. After all, Do I really WANT to see a woman with mud in her hair and a carpet on her legs? Realistic? Yes. In any way attractive? uhhh no. Thank you, artistic license.
So what influences my decision making? excellent question reader! I have exactly five motivators that determine everything I ever do. They are, in order of strength;
Laziness
Cowardice
Curiosity
Hunger
Horniness
Anything I do can be easily attributed to one of these forces. Why do I eat every day? I'm too lazy to let myself die (takes WAY too much work). Why do I do my homework? My dad gives me food in exchange for good grades. Why did I wait until I was nearly 21 to drink? That has... a different sort of answer. I'd like to think that it was due to a finely tuned "Moral Center", and my inner sense of justice... but this is simply not the case. In reality, I was scared shitless of trying something new. In fact, there are many, many things I have wanted to do, but simply been too terrified to attempt.
I am leaving college in about a year, give or take a semester. When this happens, I will have my pick of dozens of prestigious job opportunities, each paying me an exorbitant salary to travel to exotic places accompanied by gorgeous women. Also, I will be told that the summer I spent indoors unlocking every medal in Star Fox 64 was actually training to become The Last Starfighter, and that I am the last hope of defending the galaxy.
In any case, once this future becomes a reality, I will have lost my opportunity to do... many things. Hopefully I can become a bit more open minded, and get the balls to do what I want before its too late.
*I've noticed something odd while watching LOST... the women are always perfectly clean, and have skillfully applied makeup. How are they managing to find eye liner and lipstick on an island that barely even has food? Also... How are they keeping their armpits and legs shaved with NO RAZORS? I suppose this is one of those times I just have to accept the lack of realism. After all, Do I really WANT to see a woman with mud in her hair and a carpet on her legs? Realistic? Yes. In any way attractive? uhhh no. Thank you, artistic license.
So what influences my decision making? excellent question reader! I have exactly five motivators that determine everything I ever do. They are, in order of strength;
Laziness
Cowardice
Curiosity
Hunger
Horniness
Anything I do can be easily attributed to one of these forces. Why do I eat every day? I'm too lazy to let myself die (takes WAY too much work). Why do I do my homework? My dad gives me food in exchange for good grades. Why did I wait until I was nearly 21 to drink? That has... a different sort of answer. I'd like to think that it was due to a finely tuned "Moral Center", and my inner sense of justice... but this is simply not the case. In reality, I was scared shitless of trying something new. In fact, there are many, many things I have wanted to do, but simply been too terrified to attempt.
I am leaving college in about a year, give or take a semester. When this happens, I will have my pick of dozens of prestigious job opportunities, each paying me an exorbitant salary to travel to exotic places accompanied by gorgeous women. Also, I will be told that the summer I spent indoors unlocking every medal in Star Fox 64 was actually training to become The Last Starfighter, and that I am the last hope of defending the galaxy.
In any case, once this future becomes a reality, I will have lost my opportunity to do... many things. Hopefully I can become a bit more open minded, and get the balls to do what I want before its too late.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
What I say, o?
(mundane topic, mildly amusing analogies throughout, possible sci-fi reference)
(ironic segway)
Every once in a while, when things are going (relatively) well, the powers that be think to themselves "How can we screw with Zach today?" Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying that I am the most important guy on the earth, so special that the creators of all things take time out of their schedules to meddle in my affairs.
Have you ever been walking, and seen a pebble or a can on the path, and kicked it? Sure. Why? because you were bored. The object did nothing to anger you, and its not as though you have a personal hatred of discarded trash (assuming your father was not killed by homicidal refuse before your eyes at a young age*). It was just something to do to make your journey from A to B slightly less saw-me-in-half-with-a-nailfile boring. What will happen to the trash after you forcefully evict it from its cozy little dwelling place? You don't care.
*If you actually witnessed your fathers murder at the hands of evil garbage, I don't mean to offend. You have my sincere condolences.
To a supreme being, I am a piece of trash in the road, punted skyward for no purpose other than a moments amusement. I'd like to think that I am least something awesome like a balled up bit of foil, and not something lame like a "Diet Rootbeer" can. Who drinks diet rootbeer anyway? Does anyone ever go into a safeway, down the soda aisle, and think "Man, I've just got a terrible strong hankering for some sweet, bubbly drink. Oh look, Praise the Lord! DIET rootbeer! I'm saved!"? Anyone that buys a diet rootbeer, for any reason, ever, is less interesting than a piece of bread bobbing up and down in a pond, so soggy even the ducks won't eat it.
We, as human beings, have no control over the boot-clad toes of the gods. At any given moment they may strike us in our rears, displacing us from our comfort zones. All we can do is rub our sore derrieres, futilely shake our fists at the sky, and try our best to adapt to our new surroundings. Confucius once said "Shit happens", And it is by those wise words of wisdom that I try to live my life.
(ironic segway)
Every once in a while, when things are going (relatively) well, the powers that be think to themselves "How can we screw with Zach today?" Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying that I am the most important guy on the earth, so special that the creators of all things take time out of their schedules to meddle in my affairs.
Have you ever been walking, and seen a pebble or a can on the path, and kicked it? Sure. Why? because you were bored. The object did nothing to anger you, and its not as though you have a personal hatred of discarded trash (assuming your father was not killed by homicidal refuse before your eyes at a young age*). It was just something to do to make your journey from A to B slightly less saw-me-in-half-with-a-nailfile boring. What will happen to the trash after you forcefully evict it from its cozy little dwelling place? You don't care.
*If you actually witnessed your fathers murder at the hands of evil garbage, I don't mean to offend. You have my sincere condolences.
To a supreme being, I am a piece of trash in the road, punted skyward for no purpose other than a moments amusement. I'd like to think that I am least something awesome like a balled up bit of foil, and not something lame like a "Diet Rootbeer" can. Who drinks diet rootbeer anyway? Does anyone ever go into a safeway, down the soda aisle, and think "Man, I've just got a terrible strong hankering for some sweet, bubbly drink. Oh look, Praise the Lord! DIET rootbeer! I'm saved!"? Anyone that buys a diet rootbeer, for any reason, ever, is less interesting than a piece of bread bobbing up and down in a pond, so soggy even the ducks won't eat it.
We, as human beings, have no control over the boot-clad toes of the gods. At any given moment they may strike us in our rears, displacing us from our comfort zones. All we can do is rub our sore derrieres, futilely shake our fists at the sky, and try our best to adapt to our new surroundings. Confucius once said "Shit happens", And it is by those wise words of wisdom that I try to live my life.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Conversation?
This took place, and is continuing to take place, moments ago and now. It is just further evidence of the jacked-up-icity of facebook.
Zach 1:33pm
Hey Elaine
how are you doing?
Elaine 1:34pm
cant chat - at work. love you!
Zach 1:35pm
Love you too! you shouldn't go on facebook at work!
1:35pmElaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
1:45 pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:13pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:14pm Zach
Stop telling me that!
you sent it 15 times already!
2:15pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:15pmZach
...
2:16pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:22pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
Zach 1:33pm
Hey Elaine
how are you doing?
Elaine 1:34pm
cant chat - at work. love you!
Zach 1:35pm
Love you too! you shouldn't go on facebook at work!
1:35pmElaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
1:45 pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:13pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:14pm Zach
Stop telling me that!
you sent it 15 times already!
2:15pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:15pmZach
...
2:16pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:22pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Eeetoooo...
As I stated in "The merits of never sleeping" I am world class slacker. I am aware that the outside world views the slacker sub-culture as adventurous, glamorous and exciting (commonly comparing us to Rock-Stars [though we get twice the tail]), but the title doesn't come without its fair share of responsibilities. Put yourself in my shoes for just a moment. Imagine spending two weeks in my life;
You are told Monday that you have an assignment due the following Friday. It could involve anything from a powerpoint presentation, to turning in a few score workbook pages, to organizing a resistance movement of renegade marsupials into overthrowing the Australian government (you know, same ol' same ol')
You desperately want to begin the assignment right away, but you can't. You just don't have time, your duties can NOT be ignored. Unfortunately to maintain your status as a slacker, you are forced to watch a minimum of 5 hours of TV daily, frequently taking breaks to play the James Bond theme on the banjo by ear, check the entirety of wikipedia for accuracy, and re-rearrange your sock drawer. That tantalizing work is sitting in front of you, calling like a siren, just begging to be done, but you cannot, must not, begin before it is time.
After miraculously managing to avoid the temptations of productivity for 13 full days, the inevitable Thursday night rolls along. The time has come. You can FINALLY begin the task. You pull an all-nighter, half assing, guesstimating and BSing your way though 12 hours of work. You show up to class with eyes more bloodshot than a van of stoners on 4/20, spouting dozens of excuses (all lies), barely managing to squeeze a (very generous) c+ from the professors stone-cold heart.
Doesn't seem so glamorous now does it? I mean sure, all the TV and banjo you could ever want but... Is it worth it? Being a procrastinator is not for the faint-of-heart. Unlike those lazy-bums who do their work right when they get it, It takes true commitment to be a skilled slacker.
Someone recently professed their love of "Avenged Sevenfold" with more enthusiasm than a man jumping onto the last helicopter out a 'nam. This was enough to motivate me to look them up, and discover that they are the artists behind the song "Beast and the Harlot" from Guitar Hero II!
A surefire way to get me interested in almost any subject is to put it into video game form. In the days before Guitar Hero, My music library consisted of (literally) Video game .midi files, and the LOTR soundtrack. Really. I'm not joking at all here. Until I was 18. I swear. Ok moving on.
I decided to stick them into Pandora, and see if I could actually broaden my musical appreciation. Bad. Idea. For every awesome/decent song from Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu or Bullet for my Valentine, I get at least 4 or 5 songs which consist of nothing but 10 base guitars, 25 drummers and man with a box of tacks lodged in his larynx screaming profanity. The only lyrics I manage to understand are about raping women or tearing the wings off of parakeets to jam down the throats of orphans. Seriously? At least when Avenged Sevenfold sings about killing someone, they have interesting guitar melodies and vocals going on in the background.
Makes me want to dropkick a puppy, wear eye-liner and brag about how hardcore I am to a bunch of 13 year olds.
You are told Monday that you have an assignment due the following Friday. It could involve anything from a powerpoint presentation, to turning in a few score workbook pages, to organizing a resistance movement of renegade marsupials into overthrowing the Australian government (you know, same ol' same ol')
You desperately want to begin the assignment right away, but you can't. You just don't have time, your duties can NOT be ignored. Unfortunately to maintain your status as a slacker, you are forced to watch a minimum of 5 hours of TV daily, frequently taking breaks to play the James Bond theme on the banjo by ear, check the entirety of wikipedia for accuracy, and re-rearrange your sock drawer. That tantalizing work is sitting in front of you, calling like a siren, just begging to be done, but you cannot, must not, begin before it is time.
After miraculously managing to avoid the temptations of productivity for 13 full days, the inevitable Thursday night rolls along. The time has come. You can FINALLY begin the task. You pull an all-nighter, half assing, guesstimating and BSing your way though 12 hours of work. You show up to class with eyes more bloodshot than a van of stoners on 4/20, spouting dozens of excuses (all lies), barely managing to squeeze a (very generous) c+ from the professors stone-cold heart.
Doesn't seem so glamorous now does it? I mean sure, all the TV and banjo you could ever want but... Is it worth it? Being a procrastinator is not for the faint-of-heart. Unlike those lazy-bums who do their work right when they get it, It takes true commitment to be a skilled slacker.
Someone recently professed their love of "Avenged Sevenfold" with more enthusiasm than a man jumping onto the last helicopter out a 'nam. This was enough to motivate me to look them up, and discover that they are the artists behind the song "Beast and the Harlot" from Guitar Hero II!
A surefire way to get me interested in almost any subject is to put it into video game form. In the days before Guitar Hero, My music library consisted of (literally) Video game .midi files, and the LOTR soundtrack. Really. I'm not joking at all here. Until I was 18. I swear. Ok moving on.
I decided to stick them into Pandora, and see if I could actually broaden my musical appreciation. Bad. Idea. For every awesome/decent song from Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu or Bullet for my Valentine, I get at least 4 or 5 songs which consist of nothing but 10 base guitars, 25 drummers and man with a box of tacks lodged in his larynx screaming profanity. The only lyrics I manage to understand are about raping women or tearing the wings off of parakeets to jam down the throats of orphans. Seriously? At least when Avenged Sevenfold sings about killing someone, they have interesting guitar melodies and vocals going on in the background.
Makes me want to dropkick a puppy, wear eye-liner and brag about how hardcore I am to a bunch of 13 year olds.
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Merits of Never Sleeping.
I pulled an all nighter last night. This was done out of necessity, because I am a slacker on the competitive circuit, and my training regimen requires that I not begin assignments until 8 hours before they are due. As part of the athletic process, I waited until about 10 pm to start all of the homework for the next day, AND to start studying for a midterm. This means I've been up for about... huh, 38 hours now? Childs play for some of you I'm sure, but I'm a relative newcomer into this area. I've made some observations of my experience
If you normally shower right after you wake up, and then you DON'T wake up, your body does not automatically clean itself. It will smell like ass.
Just because you feel great coming out of a test, does not mean the test went great. It is conceivable that the answers that made perfect sense at the time were actually the ravings of a loon.
You can skip a meal OR skip a nights sleep with no negative effects, but skipping BOTH makes you feel all wobbly.
If it seems like everyone is annoying you on purpose... they probably are, actually. Go ahead and punch them in the face. No fate but what we make right?
Side note: How did the Terminator series get so crappy? I mean, How in the WORLD did adding RIVER TAM to TERMINATOR not equal pure gold?
Where was I? Ah yes, I am considering getting some kind of furry beast to accompany me at my house. A cat would be ideal (They don't give a shit what you do so long as you feed them and keep their litter clean, unlike puppies which get manic depressive if you don't give them walkies every 5 min) but several of my friends are allergic to cats. I would be all but banishing them from my abode for all time.
Options:
Capture and domesticate a Skunk (supposedly hypo-allergenic and fond of small children, plus an excellent deterrent to invaders)
Glue some of my facial hair to a rock, tie a string around it and drag it behind me when I feel lonely (name it "Theodore")
Screw those friends! Kitties are awesome!
If you normally shower right after you wake up, and then you DON'T wake up, your body does not automatically clean itself. It will smell like ass.
Just because you feel great coming out of a test, does not mean the test went great. It is conceivable that the answers that made perfect sense at the time were actually the ravings of a loon.
You can skip a meal OR skip a nights sleep with no negative effects, but skipping BOTH makes you feel all wobbly.
If it seems like everyone is annoying you on purpose... they probably are, actually. Go ahead and punch them in the face. No fate but what we make right?
Side note: How did the Terminator series get so crappy? I mean, How in the WORLD did adding RIVER TAM to TERMINATOR not equal pure gold?
Where was I? Ah yes, I am considering getting some kind of furry beast to accompany me at my house. A cat would be ideal (They don't give a shit what you do so long as you feed them and keep their litter clean, unlike puppies which get manic depressive if you don't give them walkies every 5 min) but several of my friends are allergic to cats. I would be all but banishing them from my abode for all time.
Options:
Capture and domesticate a Skunk (supposedly hypo-allergenic and fond of small children, plus an excellent deterrent to invaders)
Glue some of my facial hair to a rock, tie a string around it and drag it behind me when I feel lonely (name it "Theodore")
Screw those friends! Kitties are awesome!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Can't judge a book by... oh wait
Hearken to me, dear readers. Remember, if you will, the glory of ages past, long long ago in the before time.* This fabled, nay, mythic era of peace and bliss has become nothing more than a shadow of a dream, forgotten by all but the most stalwart and devout. Listen now to tales of yesteryear, listen to the anthem of hope and truth once sung by all, which slowly transformed into a dirge of lament.
What is this event that so rocked the foundations of the earth, Causing the very gods to tremble in terror, and every man, woman and child alike to weep in despair? Not war, plague or famine. They pale in comparison to the horrors we faced. Not the arrival of the Antichrist, no, nothing that tame. It is, of course, Facebook going F*@#ing mainstream.
*Anyone who can tell me this reference, I owe you a cookie, or piece of fried chipmunk, whatever I've got on hand at the time
I swear I'm done talking all epic-like. Really, I'm done. Forsooth.
When I first got on Facebook, about a month into my freshman year, I had just switched over from MySpace, and I remember explaining to my parents "Its not the same thing at all, its JUST for networking and making study groups and such". The site was sleek, functional and elegant. Any red-blooded American man would feel ten feet tall walking into a party with that hot piece of code on his arm, the jealous stares of his peers confirming what he already knew: Facebook was the shit.
flash forward 4 years: The hot, sexy site has taken up cocaine, and all that remains of its once vibrant beauty is a bloated, hollowed out husk, devoid of substance. Its myriad features are as plentiful and annoying as body hair. It walks, talks and behaves vaguely like its former self, However its constant sniffling is really getting on your nerves, and you can't help but wonder why its nose bleeds like a faucet every time there is so much as a gentle breeze. You've become too ashamed to even look at it, much less take it out in public with you, and you can't even remember what you saw in it in the first place.
You used to be able to confide your deepest thoughts and desires to it, but now it relays anything and everything you say to every person you know. Plus, it won't stop telling you THEIR secrets, even if you don't want to know them.
Ok, ok, sorry. I'll talk less, and say more. I have been trying to work a cocaine analogy into this thing for a while now, and if you don't answer when opportunity knocks, it will go to the next house and give them YOUR pizza for half price. If... opportunity is the domino's guy.
SO. Facebook brought in apps, I wasn't worried. "Its been so great, I'm sure it won't go all wrong!" Facebook started having ads that weren't related to college, I was unperturbed. "ok sure why not?" Facebook started letting highschoolers join. I was anxious "um... well... I guess they will be in college eventually right?" Facebook let ANYONE join. I was angry. "grr." Then they put in this "chat" thingy, and it went all to hell.
The thing is virtually useless. Half the time it doesn't even work, and when it DOES work, its buggier than that Pixar movie where the dude goes to the city to hire fighters to defend his hometown from the thugs that steal their grain every year, and then they build a giant bird out of sticks and... kay.
Whenever I receive a message, my entire computer freezes for a fraction of a second. If I am typing, the letters I hit are ignored. If I just clicked a link, the page will freeze. If I picked a new song on Itunes, it will stall. Sometimes, the "freeze" becomes permanent, and the only way to fix it is to close facebook and open a new window. I could be a website critic. This feature is bad.
P.S. - Margaritas have TWO drinks in them, not one. Just cause they are fruity does NOT mean they will not f*** you up.
P.P.S. - If you want to watch a horrible, but AWESOME movie, you can't do better/worse than "Black Christmas". Twisted. Ive seen some seriously depraved shit in my life (I had access to the internet when I was 13) But this movie... omg. Just... omg. I died a little inside. You want eyeballs, sorority girls, eyeballs and Christmas-themed eyeball death? Look no further. Also eyeballs.
What is this event that so rocked the foundations of the earth, Causing the very gods to tremble in terror, and every man, woman and child alike to weep in despair? Not war, plague or famine. They pale in comparison to the horrors we faced. Not the arrival of the Antichrist, no, nothing that tame. It is, of course, Facebook going F*@#ing mainstream.
*Anyone who can tell me this reference, I owe you a cookie, or piece of fried chipmunk, whatever I've got on hand at the time
I swear I'm done talking all epic-like. Really, I'm done. Forsooth.
When I first got on Facebook, about a month into my freshman year, I had just switched over from MySpace, and I remember explaining to my parents "Its not the same thing at all, its JUST for networking and making study groups and such". The site was sleek, functional and elegant. Any red-blooded American man would feel ten feet tall walking into a party with that hot piece of code on his arm, the jealous stares of his peers confirming what he already knew: Facebook was the shit.
flash forward 4 years: The hot, sexy site has taken up cocaine, and all that remains of its once vibrant beauty is a bloated, hollowed out husk, devoid of substance. Its myriad features are as plentiful and annoying as body hair. It walks, talks and behaves vaguely like its former self, However its constant sniffling is really getting on your nerves, and you can't help but wonder why its nose bleeds like a faucet every time there is so much as a gentle breeze. You've become too ashamed to even look at it, much less take it out in public with you, and you can't even remember what you saw in it in the first place.
You used to be able to confide your deepest thoughts and desires to it, but now it relays anything and everything you say to every person you know. Plus, it won't stop telling you THEIR secrets, even if you don't want to know them.
Ok, ok, sorry. I'll talk less, and say more. I have been trying to work a cocaine analogy into this thing for a while now, and if you don't answer when opportunity knocks, it will go to the next house and give them YOUR pizza for half price. If... opportunity is the domino's guy.
SO. Facebook brought in apps, I wasn't worried. "Its been so great, I'm sure it won't go all wrong!" Facebook started having ads that weren't related to college, I was unperturbed. "ok sure why not?" Facebook started letting highschoolers join. I was anxious "um... well... I guess they will be in college eventually right?" Facebook let ANYONE join. I was angry. "grr." Then they put in this "chat" thingy, and it went all to hell.
The thing is virtually useless. Half the time it doesn't even work, and when it DOES work, its buggier than that Pixar movie where the dude goes to the city to hire fighters to defend his hometown from the thugs that steal their grain every year, and then they build a giant bird out of sticks and... kay.
Whenever I receive a message, my entire computer freezes for a fraction of a second. If I am typing, the letters I hit are ignored. If I just clicked a link, the page will freeze. If I picked a new song on Itunes, it will stall. Sometimes, the "freeze" becomes permanent, and the only way to fix it is to close facebook and open a new window. I could be a website critic. This feature is bad.
P.S. - Margaritas have TWO drinks in them, not one. Just cause they are fruity does NOT mean they will not f*** you up.
P.P.S. - If you want to watch a horrible, but AWESOME movie, you can't do better/worse than "Black Christmas". Twisted. Ive seen some seriously depraved shit in my life (I had access to the internet when I was 13) But this movie... omg. Just... omg. I died a little inside. You want eyeballs, sorority girls, eyeballs and Christmas-themed eyeball death? Look no further. Also eyeballs.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Job Hunt
Some time ago, I went to my ultimate frisbee practice, and my fearless leader was trying to teach the team a defensive maneuver called a "force". I couldn't let a golden opportunity like this go to waste, so of COURSE every time someone caught the disk, I would shout "The force is with you, my son" and whenever they dropped it "You are weak in the ways of the force". Even the very FIRST time I did this, I don't think a single team-mate so much as chuckled, but I continued on for my own amusement for at least 45 minutes. It really speaks to the high caliber of my friends/teammates that no one tried to hit me in the throat, breaking my voice-box and preventing me from ever making such horrible "jokes" again. Really, speaks to their character.
It has come to my attention that I have about -infinity dollars. This means I need a job, ANY job, right away. I went to the CU job postings area, and sent in my resume to every single listing. Some of them made sense, like mail-room clerk or receptionist, but I ALSO applied for jobs like "Ballroom Instructor" * and "Girls Varsity Tennis Equipment Manager". I am not playing favorites here, my abilities be damned; if someone is going to pay me to teach ballroom dance, I'm teaching some god-damn ballroom dance.
*this is totally serious. I really did apply to be a Ballroom Dance Teacher, Yoga Instructor, JuJitsu Sensei... etc. Rec center stuff.
I got a few responses to my emails right away, most saying something like "Thank you for your interest in this position, but we can't give you money, just false hope in the form of emails from potential jobs". However, I did receive this gem as well (names have been altered to respect the privacy of involved parties).
The only position I have is posted on C.U. Connect, giving explicit
direction and instruction for applying. It is the first step in the
interview process. Successful candidates for an interview must be able to follow direction and instruction.
JANE JACKSON, Manager
Operator Services, I.T.S.
After hours of intensive scrutiny, I've managed to translate this message into the common tongue: "You fail at life you freaking moron, have a crappy day". Why even SEND this email? I'll admit, in my haste to apply at as many places as possible... I MAY not have fully read every single job posting. In fact, I may have read only the job titles. Meaning if there WERE some specific instructions... I didn't see them.
Anyway, I did get a person to offer me an interview next week, some kind of receptionist/clerical position on campus. Totally sweet. I'll rock the interview like a cashbox.
Authors Note: I just realized I can make things bold and italic!
It has come to my attention that I have about -infinity dollars. This means I need a job, ANY job, right away. I went to the CU job postings area, and sent in my resume to every single listing. Some of them made sense, like mail-room clerk or receptionist, but I ALSO applied for jobs like "Ballroom Instructor" * and "Girls Varsity Tennis Equipment Manager". I am not playing favorites here, my abilities be damned; if someone is going to pay me to teach ballroom dance, I'm teaching some god-damn ballroom dance.
*this is totally serious. I really did apply to be a Ballroom Dance Teacher, Yoga Instructor, JuJitsu Sensei... etc. Rec center stuff.
I got a few responses to my emails right away, most saying something like "Thank you for your interest in this position, but we can't give you money, just false hope in the form of emails from potential jobs". However, I did receive this gem as well (names have been altered to respect the privacy of involved parties).
The only position I have is posted on C.U. Connect, giving explicit
direction and instruction for applying. It is the first step in the
interview process. Successful candidates for an interview must be able to follow direction and instruction.
JANE JACKSON, Manager
Operator Services, I.T.S.
After hours of intensive scrutiny, I've managed to translate this message into the common tongue: "You fail at life you freaking moron, have a crappy day". Why even SEND this email? I'll admit, in my haste to apply at as many places as possible... I MAY not have fully read every single job posting. In fact, I may have read only the job titles. Meaning if there WERE some specific instructions... I didn't see them.
Anyway, I did get a person to offer me an interview next week, some kind of receptionist/clerical position on campus. Totally sweet. I'll rock the interview like a cashbox.
Authors Note: I just realized I can make things bold and italic!
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