Well, Campaign 4 began a bit half heartedly. I am very happy it is underway, but I really wanted to have all of my letters written before I started it. That way I would be at least relatively certain that the campaign would actually finish; not just stop abruptly as it has the last two campaigns. The good news, however, is I have well over two thirds of the letters written that I wanted to write. I'm sure I will be able to finish them between now and the time the letters I have written run out. [fingers crossed]
That said, let us begin with letter 1.
Letter 1,
Dear [adult swim],
My wife, the one with the boyfriend and the really expensive tastes, made a New Year's resolution for 2007. This resolution was based, so she says, on a revelation. And the revelation was based on a realization, which was based on a general awareness of "the way things are," and a logical reasoning for how things got that way.
The general awareness of "the way things are" is that we "don't have any money." Not that having no money is easy for anybody, but it is particularly difficult for those people who are in the position of wanting a lot of it. And, incidentally, worse for thos who are married to those who are in the position of wanting money and finding that they have none.
My wife's reasoning for our being in this position of having no money ws that "I was lazy."
Apparently my wife had been watching E! a bunch in December, along with VH1 and MTV, which is odd because we do not have cable, and in her viewings she had seen many rags to riches stories. The gist of each story was that a great person eventually got tired of being in a miserable state and so they endeavored, by was of busting their asses, to overcome. Thus her realization was that adversity equals Dolce and Gabbana.
Her revelation, therefore, was that I must not be miserable or I would be producing a whole lot more quality work. I actually found this last part to be endearing, as I would never have guessed that she thought I was capable of quality work. I almost teared up.
So her resolution was that she should be meaner to me.
Michael
February 23, 2007
Ps. I could really use a job that will keep me away from home a lot more.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
blue
Twelve thousand fifty three times I've spun around on this thing. It's enough to make you dizzy.
I'm thinking that this is going to be a good year.
I have always wanted to know what it would be like to have blue hair. If I ever found myself without need of a job, or in a job where business-professional wasn't the required demeanor, I would dye my hair blue. Vivid blue; Cobalt or Persian with lighter highlights.
In college I had long hair, halfway down my back, because I was totally a geek who thought he could pass as cool (it didn't work). Anyway, I dyed my hair purple with Cool-Aid. I used Cool-Aid because it was sort of a whim, and because I was told by a friend that it would wash out. My hair was purple for about a year.
The problem with dying your own hair is that if you have a color in mind you will totally be disappointed. Because, the fact is, you have no idea what you're doing. Your hair isn't just one color and, unless it is white, it will not come out the color of whatever mix you are using. I once tried to dye my hair blonde with a mix. But I didn't realize that there were some serious red undertones in my hair and I wound up with a coiffure of orange. But that is neither her nor there. I wanted totally purple hair; magenta even. What I got was a dark hair that shined purple. It was really purple in direct sunlight, but from a distance you couldn't tell.
When I finally do my hair blue, I want it to be FRIGGIN' BLUE. Maybe this year will be awesome enough to give me blue hair. It has to be soon. It's falling out a little too quickly for me to wait until retirement.
Nurse: Ok, gramps, how was your eightieth birthday?
Me with hoarse, crotchety voice: It was great, sweetie! I dyed my hair blue.
Nurse: But you're bald headed.
Me: Who said anything about my head?
I'm thinking that this is going to be a good year.
I have always wanted to know what it would be like to have blue hair. If I ever found myself without need of a job, or in a job where business-professional wasn't the required demeanor, I would dye my hair blue. Vivid blue; Cobalt or Persian with lighter highlights.
In college I had long hair, halfway down my back, because I was totally a geek who thought he could pass as cool (it didn't work). Anyway, I dyed my hair purple with Cool-Aid. I used Cool-Aid because it was sort of a whim, and because I was told by a friend that it would wash out. My hair was purple for about a year.
The problem with dying your own hair is that if you have a color in mind you will totally be disappointed. Because, the fact is, you have no idea what you're doing. Your hair isn't just one color and, unless it is white, it will not come out the color of whatever mix you are using. I once tried to dye my hair blonde with a mix. But I didn't realize that there were some serious red undertones in my hair and I wound up with a coiffure of orange. But that is neither her nor there. I wanted totally purple hair; magenta even. What I got was a dark hair that shined purple. It was really purple in direct sunlight, but from a distance you couldn't tell.
When I finally do my hair blue, I want it to be FRIGGIN' BLUE. Maybe this year will be awesome enough to give me blue hair. It has to be soon. It's falling out a little too quickly for me to wait until retirement.
Nurse: Ok, gramps, how was your eightieth birthday?
Me with hoarse, crotchety voice: It was great, sweetie! I dyed my hair blue.
Nurse: But you're bald headed.
Me: Who said anything about my head?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
drugs
So I went to the bathroom a few minutes ago and as usual I checked under the stalls for feet. I guess I have been confronted too many times in the restroom with conversations from men sitting on the other side of the divide to feel comfortable going before I look. So I looked. There were no feet.
Then, as I was using the restroom, I heard a sniff. It seemed pretty distinct. So I leaned back, taking care where I was aiming, and looked under the stalls by way of the large mirror on the opposite wall. No feet. It must have been my imagination.
"Sniff," the sniff repeated. Then, "Sniff," it said again.
When I finished I bent over and took a good look under the stalls. No feet. So I washed my hands and left. But the whole incident reminded me of a time in college when one of my roommates took several Benedryl to try and relax and he began having auditory hallucinations of someone sniffing. So I tried to remember if I was on drugs.
After a quick recounting of all of the drugs I have ever taken: none. I decided that I must not be on drugs. Actually, that's not entirely true. Some would assert that alcohol is a drug. Ok, fine. And I have also taken prescribed drugs, but only in the way it was prescribed. And, of course, OTC drugs, as directed. But I have never taken anything just to get high. Except the alcohol. And if you count 'getting over a headache' as being high, then yes, that too.
I guess the reason I don't really take drugs is out of habit. I simply never have. It's the kind of thing you start in high school or in college. You don't really start a drug habit as an adult unless you're a doctor. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but I had A LOT more access to drugs in school that I ever have as an adult.
In high school I knew the kids who did drugs and the kids who sold them. Most kids do.
And it's not like drugs were never offered to me. Cuz they were.
I don't know, maybe it's just marketing. But there's just something about an 18 year old sophmore with an acne riddle face and a head full of crisco soaked hair saying, "Last night I totally let my dog lick my balls for like... ten minutes while I watched David Letterman, smoked some weed and ate like... twenty pancakes. Then I totally dropped acid and had a threesome with Doug and some chick. Man we did her all kinds a ways. Then we all passed out and when I woke up the chick was gone and Greg was in bed with a wig on. And then I totally lucked out at my parole officer's... office, because I had to do a drug test, but I told him I had a stomach flu, and he made me take the test anyway, but then I puked all over the test and he got pissed and told me to just leave. Soooooooooooooooooo, you wanna go get high?"
...that makes me wanna say, "No. I'm good."
Then, as I was using the restroom, I heard a sniff. It seemed pretty distinct. So I leaned back, taking care where I was aiming, and looked under the stalls by way of the large mirror on the opposite wall. No feet. It must have been my imagination.
"Sniff," the sniff repeated. Then, "Sniff," it said again.
When I finished I bent over and took a good look under the stalls. No feet. So I washed my hands and left. But the whole incident reminded me of a time in college when one of my roommates took several Benedryl to try and relax and he began having auditory hallucinations of someone sniffing. So I tried to remember if I was on drugs.
After a quick recounting of all of the drugs I have ever taken: none. I decided that I must not be on drugs. Actually, that's not entirely true. Some would assert that alcohol is a drug. Ok, fine. And I have also taken prescribed drugs, but only in the way it was prescribed. And, of course, OTC drugs, as directed. But I have never taken anything just to get high. Except the alcohol. And if you count 'getting over a headache' as being high, then yes, that too.
I guess the reason I don't really take drugs is out of habit. I simply never have. It's the kind of thing you start in high school or in college. You don't really start a drug habit as an adult unless you're a doctor. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but I had A LOT more access to drugs in school that I ever have as an adult.
In high school I knew the kids who did drugs and the kids who sold them. Most kids do.
And it's not like drugs were never offered to me. Cuz they were.
I don't know, maybe it's just marketing. But there's just something about an 18 year old sophmore with an acne riddle face and a head full of crisco soaked hair saying, "Last night I totally let my dog lick my balls for like... ten minutes while I watched David Letterman, smoked some weed and ate like... twenty pancakes. Then I totally dropped acid and had a threesome with Doug and some chick. Man we did her all kinds a ways. Then we all passed out and when I woke up the chick was gone and Greg was in bed with a wig on. And then I totally lucked out at my parole officer's... office, because I had to do a drug test, but I told him I had a stomach flu, and he made me take the test anyway, but then I puked all over the test and he got pissed and told me to just leave. Soooooooooooooooooo, you wanna go get high?"
...that makes me wanna say, "No. I'm good."
Sunday, February 18, 2007
yay 400
Ok, I've reached 400 views. Little party for me.
"Hello? Helloooooooooooo?"
...peaking head around the corner, "What is it man?"
"No one showed for my party."
"What party?"
"The party I was throwing myself for reaching 400 views to my blog."
"..."
"Where are you going? That's significant! Hey, come back!"
...he doesn't come back.
"I don't need you!"
Ten whole seconds pass.
"I need you a little bit. Helloooooooooo?"
So my daughter is doing really well in school. She's ten or six or something like that; whatever age is first grade. And the school said they want to test her for the gifted program. So we took her out to dinner to celebrate. Anyway, at dinner she was reading the menu over my shoulder, and I asked her what she wanted. So she said she wanted Milk. Then she saw the top of the menu where it said "Got Milk" just like the ad slogan. And she said, "Oh no. I don't want goat milk." And I laughed and said, "Good job gifted student. They let idiots in the program now?" She cried a little bit, but she knew I was kidding.
Incidentally, none of that last paragraph happened. I love my daughter and I would never make fun of her that way. And anyone who says otherwise can burn in the fires of hell.
Ok, most of that paragraph did happen. She is a great student. She is getting tested for the gifted program because she takes after me, even though I myself was never in the gifted program. And we did take her to dinner and she did say "goat milk," which I thought was totally cute. But I never sarcastically called her "gifted student" or "idiot."
I did laugh a little bit though.
I could have been in the gifted program. A lot of gifted students don't get in until their seventh try. I should have been allowed one last shot.
Actually I only took the test once. In first grade. And they said I almost made the cut. They said, "Son, you're almost gifted.... but you're not."
"Oh," said I with the stoicism and awareness of a lad well beyond my six years. "What does that mean?"
"It means, essentially,... Government Job."
How true. How true.
"Hello? Helloooooooooooo?"
...peaking head around the corner, "What is it man?"
"No one showed for my party."
"What party?"
"The party I was throwing myself for reaching 400 views to my blog."
"..."
"Where are you going? That's significant! Hey, come back!"
...he doesn't come back.
"I don't need you!"
Ten whole seconds pass.
"I need you a little bit. Helloooooooooo?"
So my daughter is doing really well in school. She's ten or six or something like that; whatever age is first grade. And the school said they want to test her for the gifted program. So we took her out to dinner to celebrate. Anyway, at dinner she was reading the menu over my shoulder, and I asked her what she wanted. So she said she wanted Milk. Then she saw the top of the menu where it said "Got Milk" just like the ad slogan. And she said, "Oh no. I don't want goat milk." And I laughed and said, "Good job gifted student. They let idiots in the program now?" She cried a little bit, but she knew I was kidding.
Incidentally, none of that last paragraph happened. I love my daughter and I would never make fun of her that way. And anyone who says otherwise can burn in the fires of hell.
Ok, most of that paragraph did happen. She is a great student. She is getting tested for the gifted program because she takes after me, even though I myself was never in the gifted program. And we did take her to dinner and she did say "goat milk," which I thought was totally cute. But I never sarcastically called her "gifted student" or "idiot."
I did laugh a little bit though.
I could have been in the gifted program. A lot of gifted students don't get in until their seventh try. I should have been allowed one last shot.
Actually I only took the test once. In first grade. And they said I almost made the cut. They said, "Son, you're almost gifted.... but you're not."
"Oh," said I with the stoicism and awareness of a lad well beyond my six years. "What does that mean?"
"It means, essentially,... Government Job."
How true. How true.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
It could be worse
Today could be worse, but I'm not sure how much worse.
Well, ok, everyone I love could die of a horrible disease that doesn't kill me, but leaves me scarred and disabled; and I could have to spend the rest of my life alone, eating shit pies for every meal. That would be worse, I confess. I should count my blessings.
Still, last night was so frustrating I wanted to scream. I actually did, and in the process woke my wife up. I'm such a jackass.
So anyway, on Monday I got this idea for a Valentine's Day gift for Rebecca. It would be like one of those e-cards, except I would build it all myself and it would be personalized. I could have pictures of me and her and I could make it funny and sweet at the same time. And the effort I would put into it would be endearing, and worthy of some husband points. I figured it would take about two hours of work.
The whole project would be done in After Effects, the animation program I have been teaching myself. So I started last night at about ten o'clock and at eleven Rebecca came to me and told me she was going to bed. Naturally, I quickly hid what I was doing on the computer because I didn't want her to see it. Only, I wasn't exactly smooth about it and it was obvious that I was hiding something. She didn't ask what I was doing, but I could tell she was wondering.
Two hours on the project came and went well before I was even half done. One o'clock passed by; then two o'clock. By three o'clock I was finally putting the finishing touches on the project. But it had actually turned out just about as good as I had hoped, so I was excited. It was well worth the groggy, bleary-eyed day I had to look forward to.
At 3:30 I finished the project and saved it. Now I just had to render it. Rendering is basically where you throw the project at the computer and tell it to turn it into a movie. For the size project I had I was expecting the render to take about twenty minutes. It only took fourteen. That is to say, the computer tried to render it for fourteen minutes and then it decided that I didn't have enough memory to store the finished project so it aborted.
*sigh*
Actually, this is not a big deal. It has happened to me before so I knew what to do. I had to free up memory. I had downloaded a huge amount of pictures for this project, and most of them didn't get used. Those would be the first things I would delete. Then I would go for some pics I used on past projects that were already rendered. It would mean I couldn't render them again, but I doubted I would want to do that. I also deleted some pictures of me that I didn't think should ever be viewed by people who could potentially die of disappointment.
Finally I had to delete the unfinished render; not to be confused with the actual project. Oddly, when a project is successfully rendered it usually takes up a very small amount of space. You may use 100 pictures and tons of text and even music files. The sum of the memory of those pieces can easily reach up into the tens of megabytes, depending on how big the project is. Especially if it is using music. But the rendered project is usually significantly less memory. And even more peculiar is the fact that an unsuccessfully rendered project will usually take up an inordinate amount of space. I had one project that didn't render correctly and it took up 3 gigs. Then when I successfully rendered it the movie was only 19 megabytes.
Anyway, I went into my computer and deleted all of the unused pictures and all of the old pictures of me, then the unsuccessfully rendered project, which was almost 4 gigs, and then the project itself, and then some more pics, and then an old project and render that I wasn't really happy with anyway. Then I had to go to the trash can and empty it so I would actually free up all of that space. There, I had plenty of room.
Then I went back into After Effects and tried to pull up my Valentine project. That's odd, I thought, it's not there.
Wait! No way! I didn't!
Gotta check, gotta check, gotta check.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
I totally just deleted the project! Five hours of work is gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I tried the computer restore, but the last restore point was from the day before. And I couldn't find any way to save my damn project. HOLY CRAP!
That's when I started yelling and I woke up my wife.
So now I have no Valentine's Day gift.
It's all fine and good to spend 5 hours of work when you have something to show for it; even if it's ruined. If I had decided to become a glass blower and I tried to make a glass heart and then dropped it on the floor and it shattered everywhere I could at least point to the destruction as proof of my loving devotion. But I don't have shit.
"Honey, look. If we scan the disk in DOS, then we can see it."
"See what?"
"There, that empty file with no name."
"What about it?"
"Well, that might be one of the files that once was your present."
"How romantic."
"Well, it proof that I was working on it."
"How do you get that from that jumble of numbers?"
"Ok, I don't exactly. But I'm pretty sure that this could be part of what I was doing all night last night. It could be part of a very elaborate e-card I was making you for Valentine's Day."
"I'm convinced. And I'm totally turned on. Let's go do it."
I'd have been better off cutting hearts out of construction paper.
Well, ok, everyone I love could die of a horrible disease that doesn't kill me, but leaves me scarred and disabled; and I could have to spend the rest of my life alone, eating shit pies for every meal. That would be worse, I confess. I should count my blessings.
Still, last night was so frustrating I wanted to scream. I actually did, and in the process woke my wife up. I'm such a jackass.
So anyway, on Monday I got this idea for a Valentine's Day gift for Rebecca. It would be like one of those e-cards, except I would build it all myself and it would be personalized. I could have pictures of me and her and I could make it funny and sweet at the same time. And the effort I would put into it would be endearing, and worthy of some husband points. I figured it would take about two hours of work.
The whole project would be done in After Effects, the animation program I have been teaching myself. So I started last night at about ten o'clock and at eleven Rebecca came to me and told me she was going to bed. Naturally, I quickly hid what I was doing on the computer because I didn't want her to see it. Only, I wasn't exactly smooth about it and it was obvious that I was hiding something. She didn't ask what I was doing, but I could tell she was wondering.
Two hours on the project came and went well before I was even half done. One o'clock passed by; then two o'clock. By three o'clock I was finally putting the finishing touches on the project. But it had actually turned out just about as good as I had hoped, so I was excited. It was well worth the groggy, bleary-eyed day I had to look forward to.
At 3:30 I finished the project and saved it. Now I just had to render it. Rendering is basically where you throw the project at the computer and tell it to turn it into a movie. For the size project I had I was expecting the render to take about twenty minutes. It only took fourteen. That is to say, the computer tried to render it for fourteen minutes and then it decided that I didn't have enough memory to store the finished project so it aborted.
*sigh*
Actually, this is not a big deal. It has happened to me before so I knew what to do. I had to free up memory. I had downloaded a huge amount of pictures for this project, and most of them didn't get used. Those would be the first things I would delete. Then I would go for some pics I used on past projects that were already rendered. It would mean I couldn't render them again, but I doubted I would want to do that. I also deleted some pictures of me that I didn't think should ever be viewed by people who could potentially die of disappointment.
Finally I had to delete the unfinished render; not to be confused with the actual project. Oddly, when a project is successfully rendered it usually takes up a very small amount of space. You may use 100 pictures and tons of text and even music files. The sum of the memory of those pieces can easily reach up into the tens of megabytes, depending on how big the project is. Especially if it is using music. But the rendered project is usually significantly less memory. And even more peculiar is the fact that an unsuccessfully rendered project will usually take up an inordinate amount of space. I had one project that didn't render correctly and it took up 3 gigs. Then when I successfully rendered it the movie was only 19 megabytes.
Anyway, I went into my computer and deleted all of the unused pictures and all of the old pictures of me, then the unsuccessfully rendered project, which was almost 4 gigs, and then the project itself, and then some more pics, and then an old project and render that I wasn't really happy with anyway. Then I had to go to the trash can and empty it so I would actually free up all of that space. There, I had plenty of room.
Then I went back into After Effects and tried to pull up my Valentine project. That's odd, I thought, it's not there.
Wait! No way! I didn't!
Gotta check, gotta check, gotta check.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
I totally just deleted the project! Five hours of work is gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I tried the computer restore, but the last restore point was from the day before. And I couldn't find any way to save my damn project. HOLY CRAP!
That's when I started yelling and I woke up my wife.
So now I have no Valentine's Day gift.
It's all fine and good to spend 5 hours of work when you have something to show for it; even if it's ruined. If I had decided to become a glass blower and I tried to make a glass heart and then dropped it on the floor and it shattered everywhere I could at least point to the destruction as proof of my loving devotion. But I don't have shit.
"Honey, look. If we scan the disk in DOS, then we can see it."
"See what?"
"There, that empty file with no name."
"What about it?"
"Well, that might be one of the files that once was your present."
"How romantic."
"Well, it proof that I was working on it."
"How do you get that from that jumble of numbers?"
"Ok, I don't exactly. But I'm pretty sure that this could be part of what I was doing all night last night. It could be part of a very elaborate e-card I was making you for Valentine's Day."
"I'm convinced. And I'm totally turned on. Let's go do it."
I'd have been better off cutting hearts out of construction paper.
Monday, February 12, 2007
looking up
The new year of my life is looking up. My birthday is approaching and for the first time in 3 years I'm actually looking forward to it.
First of all I've learned how to use my animation software. And though I am still a n00b delux, there is promise in that.
Secondly, I finally finished my first animation. It pretty much sux, so I'm not about to post it until I finish tweaking it -the boob jiggle is off, plus I need to add color. I'll give a before and after when it is done. I just don't want you to see what I have now and say, "You think this is good?"
Thirdly, I got another Family Guy DVD for my birthday.
Fourthly, I'm almost done preparing for Campaign 4, of my attempts to get a job with [adult swim]. And I still have two weeks to implementation.
And finally, I got some recording equipment back this week, so I'll be able to start recording again. I'm very excited about that.
First of all I've learned how to use my animation software. And though I am still a n00b delux, there is promise in that.
Secondly, I finally finished my first animation. It pretty much sux, so I'm not about to post it until I finish tweaking it -the boob jiggle is off, plus I need to add color. I'll give a before and after when it is done. I just don't want you to see what I have now and say, "You think this is good?"
Thirdly, I got another Family Guy DVD for my birthday.
Fourthly, I'm almost done preparing for Campaign 4, of my attempts to get a job with [adult swim]. And I still have two weeks to implementation.
And finally, I got some recording equipment back this week, so I'll be able to start recording again. I'm very excited about that.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Holy Crapcicle
In the next room one of my co-workers is giving Andrea, a frequent poster to this wonderful blog, such a freakin' undeserved hard time. If I was treated like that when I first came to work with the Department I'd have quit.
Wait a second. I did quit. I quit in January of 2001. But having absolutely no desire to do anything at all back then I came back to work in this blessed government agency.
Working here for 7 years will give you some time to develop some goals and dreams. It won't, however, qualify you to achieve those hopes and dreams. You're gonna have to do that on your own damn time.
Wait a second. I did quit. I quit in January of 2001. But having absolutely no desire to do anything at all back then I came back to work in this blessed government agency.
Working here for 7 years will give you some time to develop some goals and dreams. It won't, however, qualify you to achieve those hopes and dreams. You're gonna have to do that on your own damn time.
commercials
I actually don't mind commercials; they can be pretty entertaining. But I hate it when radio DJs do commercials and try to disguise it as regular conversation. That drives me crazy.
"Hey, did I tell you I bought a dog this weekend?"
"No, you didn't. That's so sweet. Here I never really pegged you as the kind of person who really cared about other living things, but you got a dog. How sweet!"
"Yeah. I named it Buddy."
"It? You don't know if Buddy is a boy or a girl? What kind of dog is Buddy?"
"That doesn't matter. What does matter is that I only feed Buddy Purina One dog food."
"Oh, sh-beep-t."
"But I go above and beyond with my Buddy. I don't just feed it Purina One. I feed it Purina One seventeen times a day. Because I want Buddy to grow up to be a big, strong dog. When Buddy thinks he's done eating after three bowls I say, 'No,' and force him to eat at least two more. We go through at least two bags a week, and you should too. In fact, because Purina One dog food is so good for your dogs you should buy more dogs. Go out and get four or five dogs just show you can increase the health of the nations dogs by feeding them good old Purina One. Feed it to your kids to. I eat it myself. It's yummy. Purina One."
"I'm your co-host, you dick. You could have at least let me in on the commercial."
"I didn't want to share the commission."
"Ass."
"Purina One."
Man I hate those commercials. Almost as bad are the song commercials that are written to sound like the genre your radio station plays. You'll be driving along listening to the music and then a song will come on and you'll think, "I haven't heard this yet. It must be one of the three new songs the radio station is going to play this year. It sounds kinda like, well no, it can't be them because the guitar is a bit too clean, but it could be, no the singers voice is too gravelly, but is does sound like they're trying to be like... wait. Did the singer just say Budweiser? Oh shit. It's another damn commercial."
Anyway, I hate shit like that. It makes me so mad that I get all tied up in knots. And the only thing that can relax me and put me in a cool frame of mind is an ice cold
Coca-Cola Classic.
Poured into a tall glass with ice, the fizz is like a choir of angels singing to my ears alone. It's like liquid gold flowing over my tongue and down my throat to my belly. Have an ice cold Coke with your lunch today.
"Hey, did I tell you I bought a dog this weekend?"
"No, you didn't. That's so sweet. Here I never really pegged you as the kind of person who really cared about other living things, but you got a dog. How sweet!"
"Yeah. I named it Buddy."
"It? You don't know if Buddy is a boy or a girl? What kind of dog is Buddy?"
"That doesn't matter. What does matter is that I only feed Buddy Purina One dog food."
"Oh, sh-beep-t."
"But I go above and beyond with my Buddy. I don't just feed it Purina One. I feed it Purina One seventeen times a day. Because I want Buddy to grow up to be a big, strong dog. When Buddy thinks he's done eating after three bowls I say, 'No,' and force him to eat at least two more. We go through at least two bags a week, and you should too. In fact, because Purina One dog food is so good for your dogs you should buy more dogs. Go out and get four or five dogs just show you can increase the health of the nations dogs by feeding them good old Purina One. Feed it to your kids to. I eat it myself. It's yummy. Purina One."
"I'm your co-host, you dick. You could have at least let me in on the commercial."
"I didn't want to share the commission."
"Ass."
"Purina One."
Man I hate those commercials. Almost as bad are the song commercials that are written to sound like the genre your radio station plays. You'll be driving along listening to the music and then a song will come on and you'll think, "I haven't heard this yet. It must be one of the three new songs the radio station is going to play this year. It sounds kinda like, well no, it can't be them because the guitar is a bit too clean, but it could be, no the singers voice is too gravelly, but is does sound like they're trying to be like... wait. Did the singer just say Budweiser? Oh shit. It's another damn commercial."
Anyway, I hate shit like that. It makes me so mad that I get all tied up in knots. And the only thing that can relax me and put me in a cool frame of mind is an ice cold
Coca-Cola Classic.
Poured into a tall glass with ice, the fizz is like a choir of angels singing to my ears alone. It's like liquid gold flowing over my tongue and down my throat to my belly. Have an ice cold Coke with your lunch today.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
stomach virus
Ok, I don't know how long these things last, but this virus is still affecting my bowels. And it's not just making me sick. I feel like I'm being visited by an incubus.
And yes, I do know the difference between an incubus and a succubus. All through high school I prayed for a visit from a succubus. Did I get one? Of course not. I don't get anything I want. I get the opposite.
I wouldn't be surprised if I got a call from Cartoon Network this afternoon:
"Good afternoon, sir. We're just doing random call outs to let people know that we will not, under any circumstances, be hiring them. Your number came up first. Have a nice day."
And yes, I do know the difference between an incubus and a succubus. All through high school I prayed for a visit from a succubus. Did I get one? Of course not. I don't get anything I want. I get the opposite.
I wouldn't be surprised if I got a call from Cartoon Network this afternoon:
"Good afternoon, sir. We're just doing random call outs to let people know that we will not, under any circumstances, be hiring them. Your number came up first. Have a nice day."
Thursday, February 01, 2007
And another thing
I just read that at least two people were stupid enough to drink hand sanitizer because it had alcohol in it. Jesus, people! I mean, let's forget about that fact that it was isopropyl alcohol. Even if it was drinkable...
IT'S MIXED IN WITH FREAKIN' HAND SANITIZER!
You know better than to eat soap! So why on earth would you eat hand sanitizer. Damn.
And the doctor that attended to one of the "victims" of this "error" said that hand sanitizer companies should be made to change their label so that people don't get confused.
What???
The manufacturers need to go further than to say:
WARNINGS
Fore external use only-hands.
And further down the row:
In case of accidental ingestion, seek professional assistance or contact a Poison Control Center immediately.
Well, no, no. I see my error. Let me correct myself. They should change their labels to read:
In case of accidental ingestion, or if you are retarded and you drank it on purpose, seek professional assistance...
But why don't they just say:
If you were planning on drinking this hand gel, and you are over 5 years old, then you are morbidly stupid. You need to have your brain stapled because it is clearly making some bad decisions. A cerebellum by-pass is the only alternative.
Ps. Now I have that hi-jacked version of "I'll Be There" song in my head. "And Jesus said... I'll be there. To love and comfort you. I'll be there.... "
I wonder what would happen if we added "Jesus said" to some other songs. Like a Smith's song.
Learn to love me
Assemble the ways
Now, today, tomorrow and always
My only weakness is a list of crime
My only weakness is ... well, never mind, never mind
Jesus said...
Oh, shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Hand it over
Hand it over
Hand it over
IT'S MIXED IN WITH FREAKIN' HAND SANITIZER!
You know better than to eat soap! So why on earth would you eat hand sanitizer. Damn.
And the doctor that attended to one of the "victims" of this "error" said that hand sanitizer companies should be made to change their label so that people don't get confused.
What???
The manufacturers need to go further than to say:
WARNINGS
Fore external use only-hands.
And further down the row:
In case of accidental ingestion, seek professional assistance or contact a Poison Control Center immediately.
Well, no, no. I see my error. Let me correct myself. They should change their labels to read:
In case of accidental ingestion, or if you are retarded and you drank it on purpose, seek professional assistance...
But why don't they just say:
If you were planning on drinking this hand gel, and you are over 5 years old, then you are morbidly stupid. You need to have your brain stapled because it is clearly making some bad decisions. A cerebellum by-pass is the only alternative.
Ps. Now I have that hi-jacked version of "I'll Be There" song in my head. "And Jesus said... I'll be there. To love and comfort you. I'll be there.... "
I wonder what would happen if we added "Jesus said" to some other songs. Like a Smith's song.
Learn to love me
Assemble the ways
Now, today, tomorrow and always
My only weakness is a list of crime
My only weakness is ... well, never mind, never mind
Jesus said...
Oh, shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Hand it over
Hand it over
Hand it over
Issues
Ok, I have a couple of issues that are bothering me this morning. I'm going to touch on them one at a time and you people are going to listen. Do you understand?
Snow/Ice
Once upon a time Georgia got the occasional ice and snow. Now? Nothing.
10 billion tons of air pollution ago it would have been freezing this time of year. Thanks a lot global warming. I could have had today off.
And for the record, I don't want to hear any more northerners say, "Yous peoples down theya don't know wat cold iss. Our kids goes to school in 12 feet a snow, an they don't wear nuthin' but a jacket."
Yeah, kiss it. I don't wanna hear any complaining from you guys next March when the spring low is 100 degrees. You don't know tough. In Atlanta we get 10 days of cold each year, and 20 days of nice. The rest of the year we live on the surface of the sun.
Music
I have tried to stay positive about this kind of thing because I honestly believe that each person is entitled to his/her own opinion, but my dear Lord, save me.
As you know I carpool with my parents. And each morning is fight between them as to what we listen to on the radio. Dad would prefer to listen to NPR, which isn't bad because it's mostly just news, but mom won't allow it because it bores her so he falls back on Country Music. But when mom get's her way we listen to the Fish, a Christian Music station. So essentially I get to listen to country music or christian music. Sometimes I just wanna die.
If you have ever watched the show South Park then you might have seen the episode where Cartman bets the other guys that he can get a platinum record before they can. So Kyle and Stan start a band and Cartman starts a band. Cartmans band plays only Christian music, but the way he does it is to take normal cheesy love songs (some quite bawdy) and throws in the word Jesus and God here and there. Viola! a Christian Music hit. Surprisingly Cartman is hugely successful with this method. The first time I saw that I thought it was a joke because I hadn't listened to any Christian Music, save what you hear in church. But now I have and Holy Crap, it's totally true. When they aren't engenius enough to rip off another musicians style they simply take the whole damn song and add Jesus to it.
THAT'S CALLED THEFT.
If you are old enough you might remember the song by the Four Tops called Reach Out. It is basically a song where the lead singer shouts the verses and then they sing the chorus. The chorus goes like this:
And your world around is crumbling down, darlin
Reach out come on girl reach on out for me
Reach out reach out for me
I'll be there with a love that will shelter you
I'll be there with a love that will see you through
Well now there is a Christian music group who has taken this song and added 2 words to it to make is a song playable on Christian radio stations. Can you catch the difference:
And your world around is crumbling down, darlin
Reach out come on girl reach on out for me
Reach out reach out for me... Jesus said
I'll be there with a love that will shelter you
I'll be there with a love that will see you through
I've looked through the Bible. Jesus didn't say that.
So you know, this is not the only incident of this kind of thing. It happens more than you would like to imagine.
Mom and dad have invited me to play my own music in the car, but I just don't want to. They always talk all over it and say thing like, "I don't get it." They ask what the lyrics are or they just talk.
I used to like riding in cars.
I hate Jazz too.
Snow/Ice
Once upon a time Georgia got the occasional ice and snow. Now? Nothing.
10 billion tons of air pollution ago it would have been freezing this time of year. Thanks a lot global warming. I could have had today off.
And for the record, I don't want to hear any more northerners say, "Yous peoples down theya don't know wat cold iss. Our kids goes to school in 12 feet a snow, an they don't wear nuthin' but a jacket."
Yeah, kiss it. I don't wanna hear any complaining from you guys next March when the spring low is 100 degrees. You don't know tough. In Atlanta we get 10 days of cold each year, and 20 days of nice. The rest of the year we live on the surface of the sun.
Music
I have tried to stay positive about this kind of thing because I honestly believe that each person is entitled to his/her own opinion, but my dear Lord, save me.
As you know I carpool with my parents. And each morning is fight between them as to what we listen to on the radio. Dad would prefer to listen to NPR, which isn't bad because it's mostly just news, but mom won't allow it because it bores her so he falls back on Country Music. But when mom get's her way we listen to the Fish, a Christian Music station. So essentially I get to listen to country music or christian music. Sometimes I just wanna die.
If you have ever watched the show South Park then you might have seen the episode where Cartman bets the other guys that he can get a platinum record before they can. So Kyle and Stan start a band and Cartman starts a band. Cartmans band plays only Christian music, but the way he does it is to take normal cheesy love songs (some quite bawdy) and throws in the word Jesus and God here and there. Viola! a Christian Music hit. Surprisingly Cartman is hugely successful with this method. The first time I saw that I thought it was a joke because I hadn't listened to any Christian Music, save what you hear in church. But now I have and Holy Crap, it's totally true. When they aren't engenius enough to rip off another musicians style they simply take the whole damn song and add Jesus to it.
THAT'S CALLED THEFT.
If you are old enough you might remember the song by the Four Tops called Reach Out. It is basically a song where the lead singer shouts the verses and then they sing the chorus. The chorus goes like this:
And your world around is crumbling down, darlin
Reach out come on girl reach on out for me
Reach out reach out for me
I'll be there with a love that will shelter you
I'll be there with a love that will see you through
Well now there is a Christian music group who has taken this song and added 2 words to it to make is a song playable on Christian radio stations. Can you catch the difference:
And your world around is crumbling down, darlin
Reach out come on girl reach on out for me
Reach out reach out for me... Jesus said
I'll be there with a love that will shelter you
I'll be there with a love that will see you through
I've looked through the Bible. Jesus didn't say that.
So you know, this is not the only incident of this kind of thing. It happens more than you would like to imagine.
Mom and dad have invited me to play my own music in the car, but I just don't want to. They always talk all over it and say thing like, "I don't get it." They ask what the lyrics are or they just talk.
I used to like riding in cars.
I hate Jazz too.
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