List: What I Don’t Want for Christmas

• A book report
• Kleenex® Lotion Tissue
  
• Asthma
• A wedgie
• Teva® Sport Sandals
• Sweet potatoes
• Rain turning into anything other than snow
  Anything other than sunshine
• Constipation
  
• Any kind of bodily piercing found as a surprise
  
• Cat furniture (i.e. cat condo, cat tree, kitty gym, etc.)
• A computer virus
• A howling dog as an alarm that won’t turn off
  
• Leather pants
  
• Overdrawn fees due to insufficient funds
• Coal
• Anything Star Trek related
• Sudden and persistent influx of spam email
• Gum on my shoe
• A cold shower
  

The only thing they shared

Gregory rested himself on Abigail and almost laughed. She took a quick glance to see who it was. Then released a sigh of relief. It was their duty to convincingly pose for the camera. But she didn’t make any effort to move away from his advances. Gregory knew Abigail very well; and he knew a friendly photo with some ice pops would preoccupy her mind. Maybe even put her at ease. So when she neglected to deny his gentle approach, he suspected she was seduceable. Needless to say, her display of comfort foreshadowed her downfall. The photo was only a way to get his foot in the door, metaphorically speaking. And with all those wonderful ice pops, Abigail had to know she was a target. And not just a target for thirst-quenching sweet-tooths, like Gregory, but the target of a textbook case of first degree rape.

By distracting Abigail with a box full of Assorted Flavored Fun Pops, Gregory knew he could entertain her long enough to take advantage of the situation that would follow. Once they were done posing, all bets were off. He had the evening planned out, and he knew exactly how to soften her up; what to do, where to go. He didn’t care anymore if they were “just friends.” He knew he had to have her. All while he perversely forced analogies into his daydreaming: like the ice treat he once provided to keep her happy, he yearned for the moment all the ice melts away, and only the juice remains in the plastic sleeve, temporarily quenching his unyielding thirst for more.

It took only five minutes alone with Abigail before Gregory found out she used to be a dude.

Proclaiming Annihilation is for Old People

How do you resurrect a blog that isn’t quite dead? Eat the brains of the elderly.

On my way into work the other morning I passed an oncoming police cruiser. Lights were off, possibly patrolling the neighborhood, but in the cruiser sat two male police officers. What’s the catch, you say? They were surprisingly old. Old police officers. I’d give up my right to remain silent to see both of these dudes come across a shootout or some kind of robbery gone awry.

Here is the beginning of a list of movies that I believe are more enjoyable than the original. These were the highlights of the series. These movies out-performed their predecessors or successors as I see it. I hope you all agree.

• Airplane II: The Sequel
• Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
• Psycho II
• Superman III
  
• Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
• Rambo: First Blood Part II
• Return to Oz
• Day of the Dead
• Rocky IV
• Poltergeist II: The Other Side
• The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2
• A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors
• Beverly Hills Cop II
• Teen Wolf Too
• Ghostbusters II
• The Karate Kid, Part III
• Back to the Future Part II
• Christmas Vacation
• Gremlins 2: The New Batch
• Robocop 2
• Child's Play 2
• The Neverending Story II: The Next Chapter
• Teanage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: Secret of the Ooze
• Terminator 2: Judgment Day
• Honey I Blew Up The Kid
• Army of Darkness
• Addams Family Values
• Die Hard: With A Vengeance
• Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls
• Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me
  
• Toy Story 2
• X-Men 2: X-Men United
• Scary Movie 4
• Ocean’s Thirteen
• AVPR: Aliens vs Predator - Requiem
• The Dark Knight
  

Voting is for Old People

If one more person tells me to vote, I am going to blow their brains out. Now, don't get me wrong, I have no problem with people voting, or expressing their opinion on who they are voting for. I also understand that people have no right to complain about how things go politically if you can't participate enough to vote about something. However, all you people simply saying "go out there and vote" or "it's your civic duty" or "blah blah vote blah", shut up already. I have a question for all of you people....if someone was convinced that they weren't going to vote, and your actions of demanding them to vote was what they needed to convince them to vote, would you really trust their opinion? What if immediately after you said "go out and vote!" someone was right behind you saying "and make sure to rape some people, don't waste those genitals!". I wouldn't trust those people, so why should you?

I am not giving the excuse of not caring enough about either candidates, I am simply expressing the fact that I don't have real evidence of a single vote ever making a difference. The government and media have told us how and why voting works, and we take their word for it, which is fine, but I don't know for sure if it really was. Wasn't there possibly an election about eight years ago where people voted, and one guy got more votes, but he didn't end up being president? From a scientific standpoint, I need cold hard evidence to believe in a concept, or agree with facts coming from sources I trust expressing how and why something works for me to just follow it blindly. Since I don't have those sources, I don't know if I will be voting. I'm not saying I am ruling out the idea entirely, and I am not saying the government has some epic conspiracy, I am merely saying that I don't know if voting really DOES make a difference, and if anyone out there has proof, I am all ears.

Now, say I were to get this proof, what would I do then, you may ask. Well, I honestly don't know which candidate I would vote for. I do not feel like I am educated enough about both candidates equally to be able to say which I prefer. That's not to say I don't agree with one candidate over the other, but if I don't have a complete picture, I don't think I have a right to make fair judgement. I have to listen to all these people saying "Candidate A is the best because they believe in this, this, and this", yet when questioned about what that candidate has to say on other issues, that aren't the trendy hip issues, they don't know. Or when questioned about what Candidate B has to say on all of the same issues, they don't know for sure. Also, where are these people getting their information from? I don't think I can trust the word of any news source interpretting issues in the way their audience would see fit. For example, say I watched a channel called "Faux News" because they had babes as anchors rather than watching something called "MSPCA" because all their anchors looked like dorks. You wouldn't be getting the same information in the same way, merely based on the fact that the anchors are reading different prompts. How can you make a decision about who will head the Executive branch of our country if you only have some of the information, but don't have a complete picture of the whole scheme? Just being an expert on one issue, or one topic, doesn't really give an adequate representation. Would you go to a foot doctor if you had a cold? I mean, why not, they have a lot of expertise in one area, why wouldn't they be able to make the best decision possible when it came to symptoms throughout the whole body?

So the next person who tells me to vote, I will simply smile and nod, and vote "Yes" to human sterilization in their bloodline. And to be honest, based on the people demanding I vote, I wouldn't be surprised to find more species than just humans in their bloodline.

Fall Fashions!

Let's discuss fall fashions. Yes, it's MUCH more complicated than we think. I hope this is more of a discussion than just me making one post. Let's think....thermal shirts or flannel shirts? Pullover hoodies versus zip-ups? When you go outside, hooded sweatshirt or light jacket? As far as jackets, denim or leather? Once it gets cold, winter coat or your fall jacket over a sweatshirt? And Jesus Christ, what about scarves?! So many possibilities! Yes, this is my first post in a while, and it should have been filled with more interesting things, but this is VERY important. Also, let me just say that wearing a thermal shirt under a t shirt looks coolest with black jeans. Anything else makes you look LAME. Here is what Arthur has to say about it....

Art Imitates Life Imitates Art

Who Doesn't Like Jokes?!

Idiots, that's who!

I HATE YOU

Oh my sweet lord, I don't know what kind of description to give. This video makes me laugh on so many levels.


Raccoon Wreaks Havoc on Kitchen - Watch more free videos

Maybe It's Just Me...

...but when you wear shorts on the train, and you find people staring at your shark with legs tattoo, you can predict exactly how long it will take before looking you in the eye to confront the sick mind that would think of such a tattoo, only to flop your tongue out of your mouth and roll your eyes into the back of your head so they think that their judgmental stare caused you to expire? Lord knows I certainly do!

Working For The Weekday

Not just the weekday, however, but SUPER early on a weekday. I woke up at 3:30AM to work a 5:15AM-9AM shift. Why, you ask? Because Saturday is Miki's birthday. Yes, Miki the beluga whale. Due to this, apparently someone somewhere thought it would be a good idea to do a radio broadcast and involve babies somehow or something. Who knows, I wasn't really paying attention. Either way, I decided to chronicle my morning with cell phone pictures.



This has to be the first time I ever saw the clock on the oven show 4:10, except for my days of playing COD4 until 6 in the morning. Well, except of course, when it reads 4:10PM. Come to think of it, I am pretty sure I saw it read 4:10 yesterday, so, forget how exciting this picture is.



Wrigley Field at 4:14AM. I am sure you are all as shocked as I am that there aren't any jocks standing over their date rape victims as a Playoff sacrifice or something, because that's what I always assumed hapeened once the doors closed.



A large iced coffee with extra cream and extra sugar at 4:55AM could never taste quite as good if it wasn't held up next to a "No Panhandling" sign. Also, this picture turned out to work some magic a few minutes later...



This tunnel on the way to work is usually filled with people selling 50 cent bags of M & M's for 3 dollars, but at 5:04AM, after holding an iced coffee with extra cream and extra sugar next to a "No Panhandling" sign makes their heads blow up. Unfortunately, I decided against taking pictures of their bodies.



My building at 5:07AM. Quite......boring. I mean, really boring, I think at the time it seemed like a good idea.



The sun rising at 6:04AM, even though it just looks like God is playing fireworks. Oh wait oops, there is no God, slight flaw in that description.



The raging mob I had to hold back from jumping into the dolphin habitat at 7:32AM. They might not look ferocious, but trust me, they aren't.



MY GLORIOUS REWARD AT 8:05AM. Okay I didn't get to eat the whole cake, but any day that you get to have cake for breakfast is pretty awesome. YES HELLO I AM AN ADULT!

I would have taken pictures on the way home, but why would I waste time doing that?

What Does Hair Taste Like?

No, seriously? The title isn't meant to be cryptic or anything like that, I am just curious. Everyone freaks out when they get hair in their mouths, so I am curious if anyone can tell me what hair tastes like. Does it taste like shampoo? Does it taste like Rocky's fur smells? I don't know if I have ever stopped to consider it. Thanks in advance for any help you can contribute to this mystery!

Forget knowing how to read…

You Can't Go Home Again

Except, well, sometimes you can. Actually, most times you can, unless your house has burned down. As some of you know I recently went home for a few days. I could bore you with the details, even though they involved seeing some good friends and family and animals, but I will just tell you the story of Saturday.

Saturday was the day that my family and I went to see Bruce Springsteen, which was the reason to visit home. My mom informed me that recently on his tour, "The Boss" as he is so referred to as, has been taking signs that the audience members held up and would randomly play a few of them. This prompted quite the long email chain among my mom, my brother, my sister, and myself, with her asking us what songs we wanted to be played. I, being my usually witty self, said that I wanted him to play songs like "Hungry Heart", "Glory Days", "Dancin' in the Dark", and "Radio Nowhere". For those of you reading this blog that are familiar with his discography will realize that these are his most pop songs, that no real fan claim to be their favorite. For those of you NOT familiar with his discography, close your browser immediately, shut the computer, and blow your brains out. Cut to the night of the show. Song number three of the night was "Radio Nowhere", to which I continued to sing in my head "I was surfing on a dead dog". Throughout the course of the evening, he continued to play "Hungry Heart", "Dancin' in the Dark", and yes, even "Glory Days". I realize this story has no crux or pinnacle, however, any Springsteen fan can find humor in the situation. The non-Springsteen fans, I am surprised you even know how to read you cans of soup with eyes attached.

There was an interesting story on my way home from the airport, however. I was walking home from the train as it started to rain. I noticed a new orphanage at the end of the street, which must have sprung up and become fully populated within the span of a few days. As I walked towards the orphanage, I heard the kids gleefully shouting things like "It's great to be alive and not on fire!" and "My parents were killed by fire, but it's not gonna get me!". As I approached this orphanage, looking for a date (with a hot young nurse, OF COURSE), I saw Thor himself poke his head down from out of those clouds and say "NOT ON MY WATCH, MERE MORTAL" as he split the sky in half with a bolt that was filled with the anger of the Norse God, splitting the orphanage precisely in half. Those children I mentioned earlier changed their cries to "WHAT THE FUCK, WE"RE ALL GONNA DIE!" and things of that nature. I took the power into my hands to save these children, so I ran up to the door, and with my brand new Reebok's, kicked in the door until it splintered under my strength. This caused my foot to catch on fire, but who cares? Children's lives were at stake! And you ALL know how I love children, and old people. I then ran upstairs, foot ablaze, and threw the children out the windows like sacks of potatoes, which I am allowed to say because they were all Irish. They all lived and offered money and toys, yet I rejected them. Both out of the goodness of my own heart, and because orphans have the shittiest toys you could imagine. How do you tell a kid that a teddy bear with no head is worth their eternal soul? Either way, the children are alive and so am I. However, my foot is annihilated, which I am about to post a picture of. I WARN YOU......IT IS DISGUSTING, READ NO FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT TO PUKE YOUR GUTS UP...




HERE IT COMES......

Why The Fuck Am I Alive?

Oops, please replace "why" with "how". Have any of you readers SEEN how I eat? Or I guess a better thing to say is WHAT I eat? Let's recap....Friday I had popcorn and soda for breakfast, then a Milky Way Midnight for dinner. AND THAT'S IT. All day. Today, I had two hot dogs for lunch, and an orange creamsicle. And somehow I have managed to stay a lean, mean, 175 pounds. And am rolling "balls deep" in the female persuasion. Okay that last part was a lie, it just sounded really funny in my head.

Just so you don't feel totally ripped off by not really having anything negative and profound in this post, let me add:

"Life's so fragile, a successful virus clinging to a speck of mud, suspended in endless nothing."

Name where that come from and win my phone number, and a date to the candy store!

Riding With Death

Okay, loyal readers, we have managed to go about a month with no sort of movie review whatsoever, so the time is finally come to review the hottest movie of the summer, The Dark Knight. Wait a second, actually, I am not going to review that movie, because anyone who does is an idiot. If I were to review this movie, it would probably go something like this:

"Hey everyone, remember that awesome movie, Batman Begins? Well, remember how they set up the Joker at the end of that movie, and it was awesome? And then all the viral marketing for The Dark Knight started, and it was awesome? And then the teaser trailer came out, and it was awesome? And then they released the first six minutes of the movie in IMAX, and it was awesome? And then the actual trailer came out, and it was awesome? And then the reviews started coming in, and everyone said it was awesome? And then everyone in the world went to see the movie, and all of the reasons we thought it would be awesome were awesome and it culminated in an awesome movie? Yeah, well, it was pretty.....good."

Instead, I am going to review the hottest movie from the summer of 1998. That's right.....GODZILLA. First of all, this movie is, was, and forever will be, a pile of used band-aids with some fingernail clippings stuck to them. Does anyone even realize this movie is OVER two hours? Is that what that whole "SIZE DOES MATTER" marketing campaign mean? That there is a direct correlation between the length of the movie and the size of the hole you blow in your head? Why do they think all French people have names that start with "Jean" and love coffee? I am pretty sure this is the ONLY opinion the movie makers had of the French. If you haven't seen this movie, don't. It is so long. Seriously, this movie is so long, it's like watching the unrated version of 40 Year Old Virgin or something. It seems like a good idea, but when you get an hour into it, you start contemplating how you can make your eyeballs fall out of your head just so you have a good excuse to not watch it. Why was EVERY segment of this movie twice as long as it needed to be? The scene where they use a home pregnancy test to find out that "Go-ji-ra" is pregnant was ten minutes....DID WE REALLY NEED TO TAKE TEN MINUTES TO EXPLAIN HOW TO USE HOME PREGNANCY TESTS TO DISCOVER THAT RADIOACTIVE NUCLEAR REPTILES ARE ASEXUAL?! Good God. I take it back, EVERYONE should go see this movie, so that when you watch Independence Day, you appreciate how incredible it is and what it is like to have a nerdy main character that is NOT Matthew Broderick. The only redeeming qualities of this film are that both Hank Azaria and Harry Shearer are in this movie, and there are times when you can close your eyes and pretend that Moe Szyslak and Principal Skinner are fighting Godzilla.

On another note, how dumb is the phrase "more or less"? I mean, how can people honestly use this response and pretend they are being helpful whatsoever? This response means one thing....it means that whatever information someone is trying to gather by asking you a question to which you respond "more or less", that whatever amount is assumed is definitely NOT adequate, and the only sufficient amount is either more or less. More by how much, you wonder? Doesn't matter. Less by how much? Who cares! As long as it isn't the exact amount that you just inquired about! This interaction could even be deadly. Take this interaction, as an example:

Patient - "Doctor, how much of my medication should I take?"
Doctor - "Well, how much do YOU think you should take?"
Patient - "Uhhh....well, would three times a day be sufficient?"
Doctor - "More or less"
Patient - "So which is it, should I take more or should I take less?"
Doctor - "Doesn't matter, as long as you take either more, or less, and definitely NOT the amount you originally asked me about"
Patient - "You are an idiot"
Doctor - "At least I am not the one thinking medication can cure cancer"

And on a final note, anyone who has a webpage that uses white text on a black background should stab forks into their eyeballs and rotate until their pain equals mine when I try to read their page. Welcome to the internet, people!

Summer Is Almost Over...

So here are some pictures! Sorry that I had absolutely nothing else to contribute to this post.






http://www.flickr.com/photos/jabsonridgewick/

(We Are) Bruce Banner

Okay, well, I guess technically I meant the Hulk.

Robert's Jaguar S-Type

If I were to guess, my friend “Robert” is probably a complex man. He's the kind of man who's naturally confused. A man who's quite possibly tempted by the finer things in life; faking a taste for la dolce vita, or something. But, one can only ponder whether he may also be the type of guy who's the exact opposite of these things; someone who makes eye contact with you at the urinal for instance. Or one who enjoys dissolving his boogers in his mouth (thinking nobody sees him do it). And maybe he believes in wearing his High School Class Ring far into the late stages of his life. He may even be the type of guy you've met once or twice, but hoped to God never found out where you lived, let alone your phone number. The kind of guy that gets serious about his choices in previously-owned 2004 Jaguar S-Types. Who the fuck knows what the guy likes.

A few weekends ago, I awoke to a phone call on my cellular phone from an unknown source, with an area code not too far from where I live. It was an early Saturday afternoon, and knowing I should be up already I quickly decided to answer it. I had nothing on my agenda of course, so why not hear the person out? Who knew, it could've been a recording, in which case I would've turned right around and went back to sleep.

But instead, launching myself straight from slumber, in the nicest way possible I welcomed a warm “HELLO?!?” (complete with a smile, as if it was an inside joke between me and the guy on the other line). A gentleman with a thick Latino accent stutters a “Hello” back to me, and instinctively I shoot back a quick sunshine-loaded “HI!” like I was Rachel Ray meeting your parents for the first time. (C'mon, the dude must've been confused at this point; who answers the phone like this? With a smile, no less.)

We go back and forth unnecessarily, almost to a point that I break out laughing, until he asks for “Robert.” Without hesitating, I quickly ask for his name (i.e. “Who is THIS?!”). He tells me his name is Javier. I respond with the obligatory “Oh how are you?”, and proceed to ask who's Robert. This frustrates him. He tells me that Robert gave him this number because he was interested in a 2004 Jaguar S-Type. (Javier sounded like a desperate man about to lose a sale, or something.) He asks me once more if I'm Robert, and I say of course, to which I'm entitled to know the price of this Jaguar.

A little thrown off (and even more frustrated), he gathers himself and shuffles through what sounded like his paperwork, pauses, and offers “$13,795.” (Or somewhere in that ballpark. But yeah, that's a little low.) Unfortunately for him, it wasn't low enough. So I actually told him that this price is not good; definitely not good enough for me. And while I still had him on the phone, I proceeded with demands of spending no more than $9950, and asked him what I could get for that amount. It sounded like he processed this information pretty quickly, because he told me to hold on. Seconds later, he offered me (get this) a 2002 Jaguar S-Type.

“Not bad, but is it a convertible?” I ask. He begins to stammer, and I quickly cut him off by explaining that I have no preference in color, but I don't want white… or yellow. (So yeah, I guess I did have a preference. Whoops!) Going on and on reinforcing the convertible got him so upset that he began to act crazy on the phone. He interrupted me, spoke over me, and raised his voice. He even accused me of “doing drugs” because this in no way reflects the conversation he had with “Robert” at the dealership earlier. Can you believe that? This guy actually works at a dealership? Wow.

Unfortunately, the minute or so following his response was filled with an outburst of my own, ranting and raving into the phone as I tried to retort (Albeit rather unsuccessfully. How the hell did he know I was doing drugs!?) It took me a second to realize, but he hung up. He apparently didn't like my demands, and he wasn't happy with the inconsistent Robert; along with my innate ability to push people away, he really didn't know what he was getting himself into. But looking back on it, I guess Robert really was sort of complex. And we both experienced that.

Afterward, while I was trying to pick out which cereal to eat, I felt sort of defeated; I really wanted what I wanted, based on principle alone. And I was shocked when I realized the S-Type is about to be discontinued after the 2008 model year. The only thing worse than all of this is not knowing whether or not he knew that. Y'know what I mean?

Day Man

I would like to take this time to promote a television show I have been watching as of late. It is called "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia". I know what you are thinking....isn't that show so horrible that only FX would show it? And yes, yes you are right, it is on FX. However, this affords them the opportunity to use the word "shit" every other 30 seconds or so. Once you get over the fact that it is on FX, it is actually quite entertaining. Here is a clip, that hopefully works, of a song that has been stuck in my head for days.

Tom Brokaw Is An Idiot

First of all, let me clue everyone in to the WORST Flickr account out there right now, that I happen to be in charge of. If you are interested in wasting time looking at HORRIBLE pictures, feel free to visit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jabsonridgewick/

Secondly, I also have a blog, which you should all check out:

www.annihilationproclamation.blogspot.com

Bookmark it so that you don't spell it incorrectly.

And thirdly, Tom Brokaw was incorrect in naming the "Greatest Generation". He claims that all those people who were alive in World War 2, who happen to still be clinging to life in defiance of God, but I beg to differ. This so-called "Greatest Generation" has members that were too busy fighting the war to learn how to poop IN the toilet, but rather on the toilet SEAT and FLOOR. I feel like any generation refuses it's rights to anything when they poopy on the floor, other than their right to be nominated for "Best Generation at Poopy-ing on the Floor". I would like to nominate MY generation instead. No, I don't me twenty-somethings that were raised with a healthy combination of TV and the internet, I mean the generation I existed in. The one that started the second I was born and will end the second I die. This might be conceited, but it is also correct.

Needs No Explanation......

I mean, honestly

Worst Joke Ever

So I think everyone can relate to being at a job for too many hours one day that it really starts to get to you. This happened for me a few weeks ago, and it resulted in possibly the worst joke in the history of jokes. It happened while I was working registers one day, and needed to stir things up a bit. I was starting to get a bit delirious from repeating the same gobbledy-gook for seven hours. I think the customers took notice, as I noticed they were leaving my counter faster and faster as the day progressed, while I tried having conversations with them, but were with the back of their heads instead. The joke occurred when a customer wanted to buy a ticket. I offered no sort of wackiness, as I got the impression that they were of the no-nonsense variety. I took their money, put in my drawer, and printed out the tickets. In my attempt to hand the ticket to said "serious business" customer, it slipped through my fingers not once, not twice, but THRICE. I chuckled to myself, and these words left my mouth...

"What, are these tickets made out of EELS or something?!"

To be honest, I still have absolutely NO idea what I was thinking, and I think it was obvious from the facial expression on the customers face. It wasn't a smirk or a smile, but merely a look of confusion and terror. I could see the thoughts in her mind were along the lines of "it's nice that they employ the mentally-handicapped, but shouldn't he be wearing a helmet?". Now, some of you might wonder why THIS is considered the worst joke in history, and I will tell you why. It is because I knew that they were NOT made of eels, so why would I even suggest that? Does anyone anywhere know a way to print tickets out of eels? Isn't there a better resource than that?

However, I do find something redeeming in the situation. That woman got to go home and say to all of thier friends and family, "Okay, so this idiot at work gives me the ticket...". It's the small price to pay to give a story a woman can tell for a lifetime. You're welcome, lady, wherever you are.

Pleasure is often the Introduction to Pain

Hey I'm new here! I was totally invited to write for this blog. Imagine that. You can refer to me as “Craig,” because that's my real first name. And believe it or not, the photograph in my profile is actually me too! Those were the days.

Back when I was 14 years old, I never thought I'd be posting for blogs. Matter of fact, if you even told me I was going to post for blogs, I'd probably bellow a deep moan and cover my ears. Back then I didn't take too kindly to strangers who used them type of words. But now, forget about it! (How do they say it, “fuhgetaboutit?” Yeah yeah, fuhgetaboutit.) Look at me, I love it already!

The best thing about posting for blogs is you can say whatever's on your mind at any given time, as long as you know how to type and you have the blog site up with the “Compose” window open, on a computer that's working with no one standing behind you reading aloud what you're typing. It's pretty obvious that's the best thing. Just ask my blog-mate Patrick. Look at what he's blogged about already. Look at it. I don't even know what he said, but it sounds cool when read out loud.

And honestly, that's all I'm looking for here—someone to read everything back to me. As long as they're not standing right behind me reading everything I'm typing. We've already discussed this remember?

In an attempt to put this ever so eloquently, if I don't annoy you yet, just fucking wait.

Time Waster

So, I have quite a few t-shirts in my collection, and I keep trying to think of ways to showcase them. Well, here is what I decided to come up with. And it only took four days to do!









There are a total of 68 shirts there. If you hit "ESC" at any point, the frame will freeze. To get the cycle going again click the "Refresh" button, or just hit F5. The first person to list all 68 shirts wins a righteous prize. Now get to it!

Where Boys Become Men

Romance. That's right, I said it. Romance. If you know me, you will know that this is the first time I have ever used this word without it being prefaced with the word "True" or being followed by "is played out, like brushin ya teef". However, many people have asked me what the perfect first encounter with a potential suitor/suitette. Is suitette a real word, by the way? Someone Google that, I don't have internet access. Then perfect encounter would probably be having a stranger approach me in a comic book store, and then asking if I would like to go home, listen to Neurosis, play videogames, drink chocolate milk, and take a nap. However, my most recent reomantic encounter didn't share these elements. First of all, it was at an anime convention. Secondly, they were gay. Thirdly, it was a boy. Fourthly, it was a gay boy at an anime convention. How did I get myself into this situation, you ask? Well, it went something like this....



A few friends of mine and I went to ACEN, which stands for Anime Central, which stands for huge dweebs being dweeby, teetering on the edge between irony and madness. At one point we find ourselves outside of the hotel, some of our party partaking in the social activity known as "cigarette smoking" while others were merely "shooting the shit", myself partaking in the latter. I feel a poke on the shoulder, to which I Immediately turn around. A young gentlmen poises the question, "Can you settle a debate between my friends and I?", to which I reply, "I will give it the old college try, good sir!" His party consisted of three males and one female, yet the female did not seem frightened. I wouldn't say she was "ugly", but she definitely fell closer to the "halitosis" end of the spectrum. The young man's voice brought me back from mentally questioning the genetic makeup that could cause such disfigurement in a female, when he said, "We were debating, and we can't figure it out, but, are you gay?" To which I could ONLY reply by saying........

"OF COURSE!"

It was in that instant that I made a choice over whether to answer truthfully, to possibly impress his friend, who I shall refer to as "pile of burnt muffins". The young man excitedly said "I knew it!". The pile of burnt muffins questioned my sincerity, yet my years of improvisational skills kicked in, and I was able to convince it otherwise. I poised the question, "What gave me away?", to which I heard what seemed like a chorus of one thousand members of the Vienna Boys Choir respond with "Your tight pants". My thigh was then stroked by the original male, who might have been the leader, who I can only assume was letting me know it was the pants I was wearing that were tight, as opposed to him being able to see in my eyes that I had owned a pair of tight pants that existed somewhere in my life. I was then given the offer of making out with him to prove I wasn't lying, which was then retracted because his "boyfriend was upstairs" and he "doesn't cheat on his man". I let him know that my sexual prowess would not only be a let down, but could possibly scar him for life, and I would not wish upon anyone, even the likes of Mao, or Hitler, or even Leno. He then let me know that it was not about the size of certain body parts, but rather, as long as those body parts are filled with love. That part even grossed me out, so there is no way to convey the thoughts which filled my already flustered mind. He bid me adieu by grabbing my bathing suit area, which I did not question, assuming that was a standard wave goodbye to all people attending ACEN. When all was said and done, I slept soundly that night not only questioning my sexuality, but with the confidence of successfully jamming someone's Gaydar, much like my Call of Duty 4 character has the UAV Jammer perk.

Two GIF's From The Magi

Honestly, nothing else really needs to be said about these next two images......

But I will say something anyway. First of all......





Yes. that's correct. An animated GIF of Marky mark looking around confused. No matter how many times I practice this look in the mirror, I can't get a handle on it. Anytime I get confused, this image plays in my head, which leads to me attempting this face, leading to the confusion of everyone around them. And they tell two friends....and they tell two friends....and so on....and so on...

Secondly......



This stage dive failed so badly, even the singer can't help but shudder away from the scene of the awkwardness. This was from Mental's set at Posi Numbers 2003, and I can only imagine what was said between the failure and the guy whose back he landed on.

"Hey man, did you just jump DIRECTLY onto my back, and come in contact with ABSOLUTELY no one else?"

To which he would reply with...

If This Trend Catches On...

We will have tigers trying to eat our guts in the ocean. And after that, the sharks will get jealous and learn how to walk. Making a certain persons tattoo's some sort of Tarot tattoo, for predicting the future. A Tarotoo, if you will. Meaning......Dr. Pepper cans coming to life, with highly reflective sunglasses.

EDIT: here is a picture of my tattoo, for family members co-workers, or other people who haven't seen it




And now, the video in question...

Dead End Road

I am currently working, and felt like wasting time, so it only made sense to waste time telling a story of something that has happened to me at work. Let me tell you a little about my job. I am a manager at a movie theater, which shall remain nameless, that is located in the suburbs of Chicago. It is a very rich, very elderly suburb, with the only highlight being that there is a Dairy Queen and I one time met Harold Ramis. Everyone is cranky and fussy and close to death, which I am fine with. It makes dealing with grumpy people much easier knowing that they will probably die shortly after getting back home.

So one day I get a call from an employee, who was interrupting VERY important Wikipedia time, saying I had to deal with a customer, so I put my "research" on hold. An old woman and a MUCH older man appear to be the culprits of this interruption. I could not recall the exact dialogue, so I will summarize as best I can. The woman says, "So we were driving by your theatre and looked at the sign out front and read the movie times, decided what we wanted to see, and then ate dinner. Turns out that we read the sign wrong, so will you give us free passes?"

.....................

Let that sink in for a moment.........

.....................

My reaction was, "WHAT THE FUCK, WHY WOULD I DO THAT, DOES THIS LOOK LIKE SOME OLD PERSON CHARITY?". However, that only took place in my head. What words I managed to mutter through the cogs in my brain coming to a rusty halt was something along the lines of,"........wait.....what?".

They then described the confusing sign, and even brought me outside to show me how "confusing" the sign was. I held firm to my beliefs of not wanting to reward ignorance and crankiness, so obviously, I said "no" repeatedly. The debate got quite heated, and pinnacled when she said, "So you would rather have two angry customers than just give us free passes?", to which I replied, "FUCK YES YOU DUMMY". Once again, that was only in my head, but it was something like that, but in a much more managerial way. Her response....

"You know what, with that kind of attitude, you won't be going very far in life".

Wait a second, did she really just say...I couldn't comprehend, because I was interrupted by her taking pictures of the "confusing sign" with her cellular device, and then took pictures of "toilet paper" that was on the "floor". Honestly, who gets THAT upset over not being able to read?

FAST FORWARD FOUR DAYS

An older lady than lady number one comes in asking to talk to a manager. She says she has passes that expire in a few days, however, she is going on vacation for a week and won't get a chance to use them. She begs and pleads with me to somehow make sure they will be accepted. This is obviously THE biggest problem she has EVER had in her ENTIRE life. So I say to her, "Sure you old weirdo, good forever!" or something along those lines. She then acts quite grateful, and says, "You know, with that kind of attitude, you are going places in life". I KID YOU NOT. Two contradictory views on where my life will be heading from two complete strangers within four days. I had no idea I worked in a town full of contradictory, fortune-telling gypsies.

Best Workout Songs

I know what you are all thinking, and you are right, I am a perfect physical specimen. And yes, you are all right, to a degree. However, if I want to achieve SUPER-human perfection, it's going to take quite some work. For example, I don't believe superheroes get winded after standing up or need to sit down and take a break after lifting up the toilet seat, which creates a unique problem. So yes, this morning I started jogging, and even if my attempt to cast aside the shackles of mere mortal perfection ends in failure, it was worth the attempt to be able to come home from work last night and see this note on my door.

Things That Shouldn't Be Alive

Exhibit A) Giant Stingrays




Why the fuck is this thing alive? What on Earth could kill it? Is this another cruel joke from God, where he said "hey guess what guys, here is ANOTHER reason to be terrified of the ocean, just because I had some leftover supplies".

On a side not, on the sub-topic of "things that SHOULD be alive, but aren't", I would like to add George Carlin. Thank you and goodnight.

Wherever This Road May Lead...

When it comes to writing the first entry to a blog, or to anything, for that matter, it seems only appropriate to give an advance warning to any readers as to what the blog will entail. However, when you start down a path, do you know exactly where it may lead you, or what stops it will make along the way? So consider this a warning: this blog WILL contain inappropriate language, details of inappropriate behavior, inappropriate images, etc. Essentially, this blog will chronicle the direct correlation between days falling off the calendar and the farther away from reality I drift. This is not to say anything along the lines of "oh lol look at me, I am coo-koo", nor is it to say "I choose to reject your reality in an attempt to destroy it". Simply put, I do things a normal member of society would not, and question the actions of these "norms". Prepare for more to come, because whatever comes from this blog, at least it will entertain myself.