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!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
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!
"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!
Monday, July 21, 2008
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/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jabsonridgewick/
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
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?
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?
Friday, July 11, 2008
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.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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.
"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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)