Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: happy
Category: Blogging
I got exactly what I wanted this Christmas.
I spent this Christmas up at my sister's this year. Christmas eve with the family; wake up Christmas morning... 6 a.m., because the youngest (3 1/2 months) wanted to eat. But the oldest of my sister's 3, at 2 1/2, really started Christmas morning at 8:30. Normally I'm not a morning person, but with the kids there (and a cup of coffee in hand) I was OK with it this once.
So, I'm sipping coffee, and watching the kids eye the mountain of gifts from Santa... not to mention the equally large stack from Mommy, Poppy, Nana, and Uncle Ian... and on my lap is Chubba-Wubba.
OK, my sister did not name her second-born "Chubba-Wubba", but all those children have a multitude of nicknames. Kayden Ivy Turner is affectionately known as Chubba-Wubba, and that unto itself is a fantastic thing. Kayden was born September 18, 2004, about 5 months premature. A so-called micro-preemie at 1 lb. 10 oz., its absolutely fantastic that she could at this point suit the nickname Chubba-Wubba.
So I spent Christmas morning with Kayden on my lap, smiling as she always ALWAYS does, helping her unwrap her gifts, and my gifts, and watching her chew the envelope of my card, and marvel at the Christmas wonder that is new socks. It was just great to see that little one ripping Christmas wrap... and just that much better knowing that last year she was still in the hospital this time of year.
So that was my Christmas. That was all I wanted for Christmas. Granted, I got a good amount of really nice gifts, too. But when it comes down to it, Kayden on my lap this year was worth far more to me than any material gift could be.
Granted, there was one down note to this Christmas... a slight sadness. One person was definitely missing from my Christmas this year, one I've spent countless holidays with. But this year, one important person in my life was absent for this Christmukkah season. It was unfamiliar not to have her here. And she was missed.
29 December 2005
12 December 2005
1000 HP Dubbie
Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Philzor touched on this monster in a blog a while back, but I was recently reading up on it, and decided to extol the virtues of this, possibly the worlds most powerful car. And of course, if you know anything about me, more importantly than how ridiculous this beast is, is the fact that it is for all intents and purposes a Volkswagen.
Then-boss of Volkswagen Ferdinand Piëch bought Bugatti a few years ago and commissioned design a concept car. "This," he said, "is what the next Bugatti will look like." And then, without consulting anyone, he went on. "And it vill have an engine that develops 1000 horsepower and it vill be capable of 400kph." Thus, the latest car to bear the Bugatti nameplate was born.
Jeremy Clarkson, who had the awesome privilege to drive, né pilot, the new Bugatti, had this to say:
"Make no mistake, 200mph is at the limit of what man can do right now. Which is why the new Bugatti Veyron is worthy of some industrial strength genuflection. Because it can do 252mph. And that's just mad.” 252mph means that in straight and level flight this car is as near as makes no difference as fast as a Hawker Hurricane.
You might point out at this juncture that the McLaren F1 could top 240mph, but at that speed it was pretty much out of control. And anyway it really isn't in the same league as the Bugatti. In a drag race you could let the McLaren get to 120mph before setting off in the Veyron. And you'd still get to 200mph first. The Bugatti is way, way faster than anything else the roads have seen."
Here are the amazing stats of the new Veyron... and no, I can't figure out what the 16.4 refers to in its moniker.
Engine: 7993cc (yup, 8 Litre, or 488 Cubic Inch), 16 cylinder (VW W16 configuration)
Power: 1001bhp @ 6000rpm (because that extra 1 horsepower makes all the difference)
Torque: 922 lb ft @ 2200rpm
Transmission: 7-speed DSG, manual and auto
Acceleration: 0-100 km/hr: 2.5sec
Top speed: 407 km/hr (253mph)
Fuel Economy: 11.7mpg (Goes 200 mph and still gets better gas milage than a Hummer)
Bottom Line: €810,345 (about $1.5 Million)
I so need one. Yeah, I know, I could hit the Lottery and still not afford one. Now, if everyone on my friends page contributed $11,000 (enough to buy a Mini Cooper S... outright), I'd still come up a couple hundred short. So, to whoever out there has the disposable income to buy one of these, I say this:
I want a ride!!!
15 November 2005
Bobby O
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Food and Restaurants
I fear I may be eating a sandwich named after a Bruin.
Yeah, OK, I'm odd. I'm odd for thinking about it, and even odder for caring. But you're reading it now, so here's the deal.
TJ's Deli, formerly TJ's Breakaway, and/or Breakaway Deli, makes a sandwich called the "Bobby O". Pastrami, Corned Beef, Russian Dressing, and Cole Slaw. I get mine on Rye. It's kinda their take on the Reuben.
But anyway... way back when, when New Haven was still a hockey town, and the legacy of the Blades, the Nighthawks, and... dare I say... the Beast were still part of the fabric of this burgh, Breakaway Deli celebrated this fact. Hockey memorabilia everywhere. Now, post even the New Haven Knights, in the shadow of a dismantling New Haven Coliseum, TJ's pays its allegiance to the Red Sox, the Patriots, and Nascar. But some of the sandwich names remain... Bobby O, and of course, The Beast.
Bobby Orr played during the hay-day of hockey. His number 4 hangs from the rafters at the Banknorth Garden in Boston.
Why is this important? Its not. The Boston Bruins, and their history, mean nothing to me. That's my point. Why am I eating a sandwich named after a Boston Bruin?
OK, OCD much? Why do I care? I'm just odd that way. I'd probably order the Guy LaFleur even if it was made with head Cheese on Pumpernickel. I'm like that. I consume with a bias that makes no rational sense. I'm always excited to purchase Irish- and Canadian-made products, and somehow I'm upset to eat a really good sandwich that's likely named after an ex-Bruin.
I need some serious help I think.
Or, I need Tom to make a tasty sandwich named after Kenny Dryden.
Category: Food and Restaurants
I fear I may be eating a sandwich named after a Bruin.
Yeah, OK, I'm odd. I'm odd for thinking about it, and even odder for caring. But you're reading it now, so here's the deal.
TJ's Deli, formerly TJ's Breakaway, and/or Breakaway Deli, makes a sandwich called the "Bobby O". Pastrami, Corned Beef, Russian Dressing, and Cole Slaw. I get mine on Rye. It's kinda their take on the Reuben.
But anyway... way back when, when New Haven was still a hockey town, and the legacy of the Blades, the Nighthawks, and... dare I say... the Beast were still part of the fabric of this burgh, Breakaway Deli celebrated this fact. Hockey memorabilia everywhere. Now, post even the New Haven Knights, in the shadow of a dismantling New Haven Coliseum, TJ's pays its allegiance to the Red Sox, the Patriots, and Nascar. But some of the sandwich names remain... Bobby O, and of course, The Beast.
Bobby Orr played during the hay-day of hockey. His number 4 hangs from the rafters at the Banknorth Garden in Boston.
Why is this important? Its not. The Boston Bruins, and their history, mean nothing to me. That's my point. Why am I eating a sandwich named after a Boston Bruin?
OK, OCD much? Why do I care? I'm just odd that way. I'd probably order the Guy LaFleur even if it was made with head Cheese on Pumpernickel. I'm like that. I consume with a bias that makes no rational sense. I'm always excited to purchase Irish- and Canadian-made products, and somehow I'm upset to eat a really good sandwich that's likely named after an ex-Bruin.
I need some serious help I think.
Or, I need Tom to make a tasty sandwich named after Kenny Dryden.
08 November 2005
Your ad here
Archived MySpace blog
OK, so...
As some of you may have noticed, I like to change the feel of my MySpace... from time to time. I'm done with Australopithecus -- my tribute to the band Clutch, and now I have this sort of Guinness themed page, inspired by this wondrous picture of Master Shake.
But... I have no name.
In my time on MySpace, I've been Ian Scott, Ëener, €, I'm your Huckleberry, Just Ian, Stewie all Grown Up, Uncle Ian, Australopithecus, and now Your ad here. But I've decided... Your ad here is not a name... its an offer.
As we all know, MySpace is all about the advertising. I made a decision a little bit back regarding my Top 8. I decided that my friends don't need to be advertised, and thus my Top 8 are all local bands -- who I feel could use the advertising.
So, it is along those lines that I have decided that my very name will also serve as advertising.
Here's the deal... Leave me a comment on this blog. Tell me why you should receive free advertising by way of my home page. Could be your band, your cause, your small business, or even your blatant self-promotion. Then, I shall select the most compelling proposition, change my name, and attempt to format my profile to go with it.
So let's see the comments. Tell me why you deserve to be my next profile theme. Have fun.
OK, so...
As some of you may have noticed, I like to change the feel of my MySpace... from time to time. I'm done with Australopithecus -- my tribute to the band Clutch, and now I have this sort of Guinness themed page, inspired by this wondrous picture of Master Shake.
But... I have no name.
In my time on MySpace, I've been Ian Scott, Ëener, €, I'm your Huckleberry, Just Ian, Stewie all Grown Up, Uncle Ian, Australopithecus, and now Your ad here. But I've decided... Your ad here is not a name... its an offer.
As we all know, MySpace is all about the advertising. I made a decision a little bit back regarding my Top 8. I decided that my friends don't need to be advertised, and thus my Top 8 are all local bands -- who I feel could use the advertising.
So, it is along those lines that I have decided that my very name will also serve as advertising.
Here's the deal... Leave me a comment on this blog. Tell me why you should receive free advertising by way of my home page. Could be your band, your cause, your small business, or even your blatant self-promotion. Then, I shall select the most compelling proposition, change my name, and attempt to format my profile to go with it.
So let's see the comments. Tell me why you deserve to be my next profile theme. Have fun.
01 November 2005
When the boss is away...
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: amused
Contrary to popular belief, the Government is not actually a soulless machine devised to torment the citizens to which it pays lip-service to serving.
Well, maybe it is, actually, but some of the people working for it have souls... even senses of humour.
Take for example last night. Monday, October 31st, 4:30 p.m., the office staff was oddly taken by the Halloween spirit.
Yup, we toilet papered our boss' office. Gotta love it. Gotta love that he thought it was great, and aside from what was on his chair, he's left the rest intact.
So see, we're not soulless at all.
Your tax dollars at work, my friends.
Current mood: amused
Contrary to popular belief, the Government is not actually a soulless machine devised to torment the citizens to which it pays lip-service to serving.
Well, maybe it is, actually, but some of the people working for it have souls... even senses of humour.
Take for example last night. Monday, October 31st, 4:30 p.m., the office staff was oddly taken by the Halloween spirit.
Yup, we toilet papered our boss' office. Gotta love it. Gotta love that he thought it was great, and aside from what was on his chair, he's left the rest intact.
So see, we're not soulless at all.
Your tax dollars at work, my friends.
28 October 2005
Disimpoundment
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: relieved
Category: Automotive
I'm not even certain if "disimpoundment" is a word... but it is now.
Nonetheless, I have acquired my car.
Thursday night I walk out of work, head up the street, ready to hop in my car, call another day on the books. 'Hmm... I'm pretty sure this is where I parked.' Walk up a little farther.
Now, yes, the State pays for my parking, and yes, I'm a moron to park on the street instead of in the garage. But if I'm running late, its easier to park on the street, right by the coffee shop, and start my day from there.
'Fuck. They got me.' I have a few outstanding parking tickets. I'm running late a lot.
"Communications. Lt. _______ speaking."
"Hi, Denise. Its Ian from Court."
"Oh, hi, Ian. How are you?"
"Not too bad. Can you tell me where my car is?"
"It got towed? Tickets or taxes.?"
Yeah, so... within a half-hour I had all the details. Bottom line, $895. *gasp* Yeah, Denise even said, "have you ever paid a parking ticket in your life?" Well... yes, but usually I give them to my... we'll say "hookup". Apparently, my hook-up hasn't been hooking me up.
So, this morning, I talk to my hook-up. $300. $300 is better than $895, right? OK. $300 to New Haven Parking Authority (yeah, I'm not redacting their names; they're a bunch of feckin' pirates!) and $48 to the nice people at Columbus Towing (they were nice).
1:40 p.m., I have my car back. Needless to say, I'll be parking in the garage.
What the heck is gonna happen next?!?
Current mood: relieved
Category: Automotive
I'm not even certain if "disimpoundment" is a word... but it is now.
Nonetheless, I have acquired my car.
Thursday night I walk out of work, head up the street, ready to hop in my car, call another day on the books. 'Hmm... I'm pretty sure this is where I parked.' Walk up a little farther.
Now, yes, the State pays for my parking, and yes, I'm a moron to park on the street instead of in the garage. But if I'm running late, its easier to park on the street, right by the coffee shop, and start my day from there.
'Fuck. They got me.' I have a few outstanding parking tickets. I'm running late a lot.
"Communications. Lt. _______ speaking."
"Hi, Denise. Its Ian from Court."
"Oh, hi, Ian. How are you?"
"Not too bad. Can you tell me where my car is?"
"It got towed? Tickets or taxes.?"
Yeah, so... within a half-hour I had all the details. Bottom line, $895. *gasp* Yeah, Denise even said, "have you ever paid a parking ticket in your life?" Well... yes, but usually I give them to my... we'll say "hookup". Apparently, my hook-up hasn't been hooking me up.
So, this morning, I talk to my hook-up. $300. $300 is better than $895, right? OK. $300 to New Haven Parking Authority (yeah, I'm not redacting their names; they're a bunch of feckin' pirates!) and $48 to the nice people at Columbus Towing (they were nice).
1:40 p.m., I have my car back. Needless to say, I'll be parking in the garage.
What the heck is gonna happen next?!?
07 October 2005
Allez, Allez, Allez, Allez (or Go Habs Go)
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: jubilant
Category: Sports
In Montreal, after home wins, the whole crown sings that as a song. "Allez, allez, allez, allez! Allez! Allez!" It just means "go", but anyway. Last night, it was sung at Madison Square garden... only by me, and the fellow Canadiens fan who happened to have the seat next to us... but it was sung.
But perhaps it is best to start a story at the beginning (unless, of course, you're Quinton Tarantino).
3:05, Stuck in traffic. Should have picked up Jennilynne 10 minutes ago, train leaves in 15.
3:22, On the train. Bar Car. Yay!
5:30, Madison Avenue. "I think I want to get jeans. can we stop on the way?" "OK" "Oh, you have the tickets, right?"
Fuck!!! Utter shock. "They never got put in the bag, did they?" OK, will-call window should help us.
6:15, Will-call window. After a hectic sprint of jeans shopping, and new top to boot, and changing in the dressing room, we've made it to the Garden. Neat place. "We need check your bag." "Sure, just my flag, couple jerseys, change of clothes, my friend's bra..." "Go ahead." yes, of course the bra is on top. Isn't that always the way. I mean, I guess. I don't usually travel with a bra in my bag, but if I did... Anyway, at the will-call window. Short explanation. Wait for them to re-print the tickets. "Go habs!" yelled to one of the 8 people who, like myself, dare wear their Montreal jerseys into the Garden.
6:45, Re-printed bogus (?) tickets at Tower A. Guy scans ticket at the gate. Jenni pushes through the turnstile. Turnstile locks. Guy re-scans ticket. Big mistake. Tickets are scanned nowadays so the barcode cannot be copied. First ticket received with said barcode, good. Second, bogus. Dim-bulb scanned the ticket twice, invalidating our freshly printed tickets. "Go to Line 2 for validation."
6:58, Tower D. The guy in line 2 initials the back of our tickets, and sends us back to the gate. The guy at the gate says, the only one who can let us past the turnstyle is the Lobby Mangager, and asks "Who signed these?" "The guy at Line 2... the guy you just sent us to." Find the Lobby Manager. "Who signed these?" "The guy at Line 2... the guy the guy at the gate just sent us to." Back to line 2. "Valid. I just told them that." Back to the gate, Lobby Manager in tow. Wait, wrong gate? How was I supposed to know. "No, I've never been to the Garden before." Gesture to opposing team's jersey on my chest. "Who's that, Chicago?" Oh Lord. You'd think, but no. "Oh, I don't know anything about hockey. You'd think working here, but no." OK, whatever. Welcome to the gate at Tower D. Where we should have been all along. Where our tickets would have probably scanned correctly if the Gatekeeper bothered to look at them before he double-scanned them. Up the escalator. "Go Habs." to the 4th fan, who happens to be in the section next to us.
See Jennilynne's Blog for the game itself. She was nice enough to copy someone's highlights, and I don't feel the need to rub it in.
10:25, Broadway. I hesitate to say they were sore losers, but the pushing and shoving to get out of MSG was a bit ridiculous. We just want to get out, smoke a cigarette, and head for the train (or a bar, depending on how we coincide with the train schedule). Shoving... like you wouldn't believe. Jennilynne, the good sport that she is, is now wearing my spare Montreal jersey over her Rangers one. Not part of the bet, but a fun gesture. I'm holding the back of her jersey like the mother of a small child during the Christmas shopping rush, so we don't get separated. "What's going on over there?" Pushing and shoving left to receive our 'on-the-way-out' freebies of miniature Stanley Cups. Cool. Much better than the blue "thank You" mini-banners we got on the way in. I quipped to one fellow Habs fan, thinking they were 6" tote-bags, "If the game gets bad, we can always puke in them." Out on the street, humid and sweaty, behind a subway entrance become a changing station so we can lose our sweaty jerseys, and I of course have to break out the hair wax and comb rather than having hat-head for the rest of the night. Continuing uptown, looking newly fabulous. "W". Its a bar, "trendier than we are". We continue. "What time is... where's my phone?!?" No chance. I probably lost it in the pushing and the shoving. The last time I knew i had it was between the first and second periods. In essence, I effectively traded it for that mini- Stanley Cup. Not the best trade in the world. But still an awesome trip.
Oh yeah, MTL 4, NYR 3, Final, Overtime.
"Allez, allez, allez, allez! Allez! Allez!"
Current mood: jubilant
Category: Sports
In Montreal, after home wins, the whole crown sings that as a song. "Allez, allez, allez, allez! Allez! Allez!" It just means "go", but anyway. Last night, it was sung at Madison Square garden... only by me, and the fellow Canadiens fan who happened to have the seat next to us... but it was sung.
But perhaps it is best to start a story at the beginning (unless, of course, you're Quinton Tarantino).
3:05, Stuck in traffic. Should have picked up Jennilynne 10 minutes ago, train leaves in 15.
3:22, On the train. Bar Car. Yay!
5:30, Madison Avenue. "I think I want to get jeans. can we stop on the way?" "OK" "Oh, you have the tickets, right?"
Fuck!!! Utter shock. "They never got put in the bag, did they?" OK, will-call window should help us.
6:15, Will-call window. After a hectic sprint of jeans shopping, and new top to boot, and changing in the dressing room, we've made it to the Garden. Neat place. "We need check your bag." "Sure, just my flag, couple jerseys, change of clothes, my friend's bra..." "Go ahead." yes, of course the bra is on top. Isn't that always the way. I mean, I guess. I don't usually travel with a bra in my bag, but if I did... Anyway, at the will-call window. Short explanation. Wait for them to re-print the tickets. "Go habs!" yelled to one of the 8 people who, like myself, dare wear their Montreal jerseys into the Garden.
6:45, Re-printed bogus (?) tickets at Tower A. Guy scans ticket at the gate. Jenni pushes through the turnstile. Turnstile locks. Guy re-scans ticket. Big mistake. Tickets are scanned nowadays so the barcode cannot be copied. First ticket received with said barcode, good. Second, bogus. Dim-bulb scanned the ticket twice, invalidating our freshly printed tickets. "Go to Line 2 for validation."
6:58, Tower D. The guy in line 2 initials the back of our tickets, and sends us back to the gate. The guy at the gate says, the only one who can let us past the turnstyle is the Lobby Mangager, and asks "Who signed these?" "The guy at Line 2... the guy you just sent us to." Find the Lobby Manager. "Who signed these?" "The guy at Line 2... the guy the guy at the gate just sent us to." Back to line 2. "Valid. I just told them that." Back to the gate, Lobby Manager in tow. Wait, wrong gate? How was I supposed to know. "No, I've never been to the Garden before." Gesture to opposing team's jersey on my chest. "Who's that, Chicago?" Oh Lord. You'd think, but no. "Oh, I don't know anything about hockey. You'd think working here, but no." OK, whatever. Welcome to the gate at Tower D. Where we should have been all along. Where our tickets would have probably scanned correctly if the Gatekeeper bothered to look at them before he double-scanned them. Up the escalator. "Go Habs." to the 4th fan, who happens to be in the section next to us.
See Jennilynne's Blog for the game itself. She was nice enough to copy someone's highlights, and I don't feel the need to rub it in.
10:25, Broadway. I hesitate to say they were sore losers, but the pushing and shoving to get out of MSG was a bit ridiculous. We just want to get out, smoke a cigarette, and head for the train (or a bar, depending on how we coincide with the train schedule). Shoving... like you wouldn't believe. Jennilynne, the good sport that she is, is now wearing my spare Montreal jersey over her Rangers one. Not part of the bet, but a fun gesture. I'm holding the back of her jersey like the mother of a small child during the Christmas shopping rush, so we don't get separated. "What's going on over there?" Pushing and shoving left to receive our 'on-the-way-out' freebies of miniature Stanley Cups. Cool. Much better than the blue "thank You" mini-banners we got on the way in. I quipped to one fellow Habs fan, thinking they were 6" tote-bags, "If the game gets bad, we can always puke in them." Out on the street, humid and sweaty, behind a subway entrance become a changing station so we can lose our sweaty jerseys, and I of course have to break out the hair wax and comb rather than having hat-head for the rest of the night. Continuing uptown, looking newly fabulous. "W". Its a bar, "trendier than we are". We continue. "What time is... where's my phone?!?" No chance. I probably lost it in the pushing and the shoving. The last time I knew i had it was between the first and second periods. In essence, I effectively traded it for that mini- Stanley Cup. Not the best trade in the world. But still an awesome trip.
Oh yeah, MTL 4, NYR 3, Final, Overtime.
"Allez, allez, allez, allez! Allez! Allez!"
05 October 2005
Its the only thing I can do
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: bored
Well, Tom is "doing maintenance" on my page again. Can't access home or mail. Effectively I've been reduced to blog status only. That's OK I guess. When it comes down to it, blogging is why I signed up for MySpace in the first place.
So, what to blog about...
I'm hot and sweaty. You needed to know that, right? Yeah, but I am. This is a desk job... I thought. But today the shredding drew came to collect boxes (and boxes -- 200+ to be precise) of disposed files. With no warning, we had no way to separate out which ones stay and which go -- then again, there's no room in the vault for all the boxes, let alone a way to make organized piles. So anyway...
Running around in "The Vault", an unventilated 25'x25' room, full to the ceiling with stacks of bankers boxes -- 11"x14" cardboard boxes with lids that don't fit right -- with a red Sharpie, putting giant red X's on all the boxes that must go -- all 200 of them.
So yeah, and did I mention that I decided to dress nicely today? No khakis and a polo -- as you all know as my generic work uniform -- today. No, I decided to dress. Black pleated pants, nice microfiber tan shirt, elegant sweat-stains on the armpits. What the fuck!?!
So that's my deal at the moment. Hot, sweaty, disgusting, aggravated with the timing of the Universe, aggravated with MySpace Tom, blogging. And my coffee's cold; 1 hour and 10 minutes to lunch.
But I'm not working tomorrow. That makes today bearable. Anticipation cancels out aggravation? Maybe so. No, nothing can be terribly bad, for tomorrow, I will be in Manhattan, at Madison Square Garden, for the New York Rangers home opener.
No, you are correct, I am not a Rangers fan. Never have been, never will be. But their opponent just so happens to be... the Greatest Team in the History of Professional Sport*... Le Club de Hockey Canadien de Montréal... affectionately known as the Habs... the Montreal Canadiens. And trying to get tickets to their home opener, and get to Montreal for it, not so much happening.
So, sore throat, sweaty pits, stupid guys from the shredding company, non-functional MySpace, I shall endure. For tomorrow, I shall rejoice in the splendor that is the return of professional hockey.
* claim to the title of "Greatest Team in the History of Professional Sport" based on number of Professional Championships won: Montreal Canadiens (NHL), 27 Stanley Cups; New York Yankees (MLB), 26 World Series Titles; Boston Celtics (NBA), 16 World Championships.
Current mood: bored
Well, Tom is "doing maintenance" on my page again. Can't access home or mail. Effectively I've been reduced to blog status only. That's OK I guess. When it comes down to it, blogging is why I signed up for MySpace in the first place.
So, what to blog about...
I'm hot and sweaty. You needed to know that, right? Yeah, but I am. This is a desk job... I thought. But today the shredding drew came to collect boxes (and boxes -- 200+ to be precise) of disposed files. With no warning, we had no way to separate out which ones stay and which go -- then again, there's no room in the vault for all the boxes, let alone a way to make organized piles. So anyway...
Running around in "The Vault", an unventilated 25'x25' room, full to the ceiling with stacks of bankers boxes -- 11"x14" cardboard boxes with lids that don't fit right -- with a red Sharpie, putting giant red X's on all the boxes that must go -- all 200 of them.
So yeah, and did I mention that I decided to dress nicely today? No khakis and a polo -- as you all know as my generic work uniform -- today. No, I decided to dress. Black pleated pants, nice microfiber tan shirt, elegant sweat-stains on the armpits. What the fuck!?!
So that's my deal at the moment. Hot, sweaty, disgusting, aggravated with the timing of the Universe, aggravated with MySpace Tom, blogging. And my coffee's cold; 1 hour and 10 minutes to lunch.
But I'm not working tomorrow. That makes today bearable. Anticipation cancels out aggravation? Maybe so. No, nothing can be terribly bad, for tomorrow, I will be in Manhattan, at Madison Square Garden, for the New York Rangers home opener.
No, you are correct, I am not a Rangers fan. Never have been, never will be. But their opponent just so happens to be... the Greatest Team in the History of Professional Sport*... Le Club de Hockey Canadien de Montréal... affectionately known as the Habs... the Montreal Canadiens. And trying to get tickets to their home opener, and get to Montreal for it, not so much happening.
So, sore throat, sweaty pits, stupid guys from the shredding company, non-functional MySpace, I shall endure. For tomorrow, I shall rejoice in the splendor that is the return of professional hockey.
* claim to the title of "Greatest Team in the History of Professional Sport" based on number of Professional Championships won: Montreal Canadiens (NHL), 27 Stanley Cups; New York Yankees (MLB), 26 World Series Titles; Boston Celtics (NBA), 16 World Championships.
01 October 2005
Its a girl
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: happy
Beilen Alexis Turner
Born 2:58 a.m., Saturday, October 1st
7 lbs., 11 oz., 21 " tall
My sister's third daughter. All are healthy and well.
I have been watching the other two, and I am now very tired.
Current mood: happy
Beilen Alexis Turner
Born 2:58 a.m., Saturday, October 1st
7 lbs., 11 oz., 21 " tall
My sister's third daughter. All are healthy and well.
I have been watching the other two, and I am now very tired.
11 August 2005
I am American (too)
Today, I posted a bulletin... a stupid online quiz... one where I was flagged as pretty anti-American. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not.
I've always been pretty vocal about, and proud of, my Canadian heritage. Doesn't mean I'm anti-American. In fact, I think the most American thing I do is complain about the United States. Isn't that what we're all about. A country born of complaining about the government... and doing something about it. That is our gift and right as Americans.
I speak my mind... maybe its not always in favour of the administration, but I do. And moreover, I act. I vote. I even have been known to write a Congressman. When something isn't to my liking, I will act. I think that's the most American thing to do.
So, that being said, here's my take on being an American, as written by our friend Billy Joe:
Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new media.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mindfuck America.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Well that's enough to argue.
Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Well that's enough to argue.
Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information nation of hysteria.
It's going out to idiot America.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Currently listening :
American Idiot
By Green Day
Release date: 21 September, 2004
I've always been pretty vocal about, and proud of, my Canadian heritage. Doesn't mean I'm anti-American. In fact, I think the most American thing I do is complain about the United States. Isn't that what we're all about. A country born of complaining about the government... and doing something about it. That is our gift and right as Americans.
I speak my mind... maybe its not always in favour of the administration, but I do. And moreover, I act. I vote. I even have been known to write a Congressman. When something isn't to my liking, I will act. I think that's the most American thing to do.
So, that being said, here's my take on being an American, as written by our friend Billy Joe:
Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new media.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mindfuck America.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Well that's enough to argue.
Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Well that's enough to argue.
Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information nation of hysteria.
It's going out to idiot America.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Currently listening :
American Idiot
By Green Day
Release date: 21 September, 2004
18 July 2005
I got down and dirty at OzzFest...
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: beat
... just not in the good way.
Soaked.
Hot all morning. Yeah, we got there about 10. Saw a lot of second stage bands. Good time. Got kinda hot, but then the rain came. Ducked in under a Pavilion. Second downpour... not so lucky. On the lawn, right before Zakk Wylde. Nothing one can do, but sit back, and embrace the rain...
Yup, soaked.
Covered in mud.
So the rain stops. Wet ground + festival show = competitive sod lobbing. Yay. I made it my point to enjoy the show, so there I stood, in a pocket a relative emptiness, bright white tank top, mud flying back and forth overhead. I stood fast, for another band and a half, just enjoying the show in the crossfire of the muddy idiots, but eventually....
Yeah, covered in mud.
The Trooper.
Learned a few things on the lawn. Learned that I really like Shadows Fall, and that I don't like Mudvayne nearly as much as I thought I did. Learned that a mob of retarded teenagers will follow the first drunken idiot with disdain for landscaping. Learned that even when you run sound at OzzFest for a living, every once in a while you just forget to turn on the PA main when the next band starts. And most important right now, I learned that just when things look bleak, you can just start wailing on that unforgettable riff...
The beginning of "The Trooper".
Down and dirty.
So the night is winding down. Shorts are drying off. Lawn is wet. Its dark. The ground is now littered with piss, puke, empty beer cups, and Lord knows what else. Let's have sex. No, not me. But these 2 randoms about 20 feet to my left. Free show. Not like I haven't already seen the 10 or so girls who thought airbrushing was a reasonable alternative to shirts. You know, when I hear "The Wizard" I get in the mood, too. OK, not really, but it was working for them. Well maybe not really.
"Girl, who's name I never got, could you go grab that piece of dirty plastic over there. We can wrap ourselves in it, and then maybe no one will notice what we're doing."
"But we've already been going at it for ten minutes."
"Yeah, but I don't think I can finish unless my bare ass is pressed against someone's dirty discarded plastic."
Yeah, not dirty in the porn movie way. No, it was something that can only happen at OzzFest. On the lawn, in a pile of garbage, with an audience of sweaty metal-heads...
Getting down and dirty.
Current mood: beat
... just not in the good way.
Soaked.
Hot all morning. Yeah, we got there about 10. Saw a lot of second stage bands. Good time. Got kinda hot, but then the rain came. Ducked in under a Pavilion. Second downpour... not so lucky. On the lawn, right before Zakk Wylde. Nothing one can do, but sit back, and embrace the rain...
Yup, soaked.
Covered in mud.
So the rain stops. Wet ground + festival show = competitive sod lobbing. Yay. I made it my point to enjoy the show, so there I stood, in a pocket a relative emptiness, bright white tank top, mud flying back and forth overhead. I stood fast, for another band and a half, just enjoying the show in the crossfire of the muddy idiots, but eventually....
Yeah, covered in mud.
The Trooper.
Learned a few things on the lawn. Learned that I really like Shadows Fall, and that I don't like Mudvayne nearly as much as I thought I did. Learned that a mob of retarded teenagers will follow the first drunken idiot with disdain for landscaping. Learned that even when you run sound at OzzFest for a living, every once in a while you just forget to turn on the PA main when the next band starts. And most important right now, I learned that just when things look bleak, you can just start wailing on that unforgettable riff...
The beginning of "The Trooper".
Down and dirty.
So the night is winding down. Shorts are drying off. Lawn is wet. Its dark. The ground is now littered with piss, puke, empty beer cups, and Lord knows what else. Let's have sex. No, not me. But these 2 randoms about 20 feet to my left. Free show. Not like I haven't already seen the 10 or so girls who thought airbrushing was a reasonable alternative to shirts. You know, when I hear "The Wizard" I get in the mood, too. OK, not really, but it was working for them. Well maybe not really.
"Girl, who's name I never got, could you go grab that piece of dirty plastic over there. We can wrap ourselves in it, and then maybe no one will notice what we're doing."
"But we've already been going at it for ten minutes."
"Yeah, but I don't think I can finish unless my bare ass is pressed against someone's dirty discarded plastic."
Yeah, not dirty in the porn movie way. No, it was something that can only happen at OzzFest. On the lawn, in a pile of garbage, with an audience of sweaty metal-heads...
Getting down and dirty.
14 July 2005
Does anyone have a high powered assault rifle?
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: disgruntled
If so, can you bring it to me at work? Thanks.
Current mood: disgruntled
If so, can you bring it to me at work? Thanks.
29 June 2005
The Bar Show
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: jubilant
There's little much more I can say that the title doesn't already convey.
Monday, well possibly most importantly, for those of you who understand, Monday I took my first scheduled day off since April 2004.
So, I spent that well-earned day off at the New York City Bar Show at the Javvits Center. And what a time it was.
On paper, I went because I wanted to network... find a place to bartend so I have an established gig for when I quit my job with the State and go to nursing school. The reality of it, however, is that the Bar Show is not a place to meet bar owners, its simply a place to get absolutely plowed, 1/2 ounce at a time.
But really, why would I have any complaints about that?
Great time. Great company. Bigg and Firecracker, you two definitely rock! The only thing better would be if Bigg would forward me the pictures. C'mon, there's a pic of me with George Wendt!
Same time next year?
Current mood: jubilant
There's little much more I can say that the title doesn't already convey.
Monday, well possibly most importantly, for those of you who understand, Monday I took my first scheduled day off since April 2004.
So, I spent that well-earned day off at the New York City Bar Show at the Javvits Center. And what a time it was.
On paper, I went because I wanted to network... find a place to bartend so I have an established gig for when I quit my job with the State and go to nursing school. The reality of it, however, is that the Bar Show is not a place to meet bar owners, its simply a place to get absolutely plowed, 1/2 ounce at a time.
But really, why would I have any complaints about that?
Great time. Great company. Bigg and Firecracker, you two definitely rock! The only thing better would be if Bigg would forward me the pictures. C'mon, there's a pic of me with George Wendt!
Same time next year?
07 June 2005
The Summer blahs?
Everybody's heard of the Winter blahs. Heck, the retard powers that be have even created a diagnosis (read: label) of SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder. But what about the summer blahs. OK, so we don't have Vitamin D to blame for this one. But they seem to be here. I don't think I'm the only one.
The dynamic of things has just been odd. Maybe its just me. This should be the end of the Winter -- being trapped inside. This should be the end of my stress. Things are just better. My niece has been home from the hospital, doing well. Other things have changed in my life. My job isn't as bad as its been. All the really stressful things are past.
So what? The letdown. Is it possible to be so used to stress, so accustomed to the issues, that when you're not running ragged you don't know what to do with yourself? I know I'm the kind of guy who thrives off chaos -- I've always thought I should work for FEMA or something -- but do I need it? Maybe I do. I've noticed that I'm doing things that maybe create more stress than I need to. Maybe subconsciously I need the added stress.
I hope not. Creating extra stress in my life doesn't make much sense. So why am I feeling off? And is it just me, or is off the order of the day these days? Maybe its time for a change. Maybe change is in the breeze and I just need to reach out with my kite and catch it and go for a ride to where it takes me.
Perhaps its time to dig out my kite.
The dynamic of things has just been odd. Maybe its just me. This should be the end of the Winter -- being trapped inside. This should be the end of my stress. Things are just better. My niece has been home from the hospital, doing well. Other things have changed in my life. My job isn't as bad as its been. All the really stressful things are past.
So what? The letdown. Is it possible to be so used to stress, so accustomed to the issues, that when you're not running ragged you don't know what to do with yourself? I know I'm the kind of guy who thrives off chaos -- I've always thought I should work for FEMA or something -- but do I need it? Maybe I do. I've noticed that I'm doing things that maybe create more stress than I need to. Maybe subconsciously I need the added stress.
I hope not. Creating extra stress in my life doesn't make much sense. So why am I feeling off? And is it just me, or is off the order of the day these days? Maybe its time for a change. Maybe change is in the breeze and I just need to reach out with my kite and catch it and go for a ride to where it takes me.
Perhaps its time to dig out my kite.
09 May 2005
A bad day on MySpace is better than a good day of work...?
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: cheerful
So, here it is. Been a long tome since I blogged anything. Hell, the environment has even changed. What's this insert emoticon deal?
So, what do I have to say. See, I'm not good at this. My blogs usually come out of negative emotion, and lately I've been quite happy. But, as my friend Beth pointed out recently, maybe people want to hear about being happy, too.
My niece is doing well, may be out of the hospital (finally) as early as today. 7 1/2 months old, and over 9 pounds now.
My other niece never ceases to amaze me as to how brilliant she's becoming. 2 years old, and she speaks the Queen's English. She may have some issues with her teachers in a couple years because of it, but I'll go down there and kick some verbal ass for her. As I said to my 5th grade English teacher, the course isn't called American.
My third niece -- yes, my sister is a baby-machine -- is due in October, and everything seems to be going quite well.
Went over to Mom's for Mother's Day with the intention of taking her out to dinner yesterday. Instead, she ended up cooking me dinner, and we watched Star Wars Episode II together. Did I ever mention that my Mom rocks?
Still reeling over the fact that I seem to have the coolest friends in the universe. Really, if I don't say it enough, each and every one of you rocks. Currently, I'd really like to thank my new adopted brothers, the Timmys, for inviting me to the gym with them. Every day I wake up sore as hell, and curse their very existence, but I do love going to the gym. I've wanted to get in shape for some time, but I knew I couldn't motivate myself. Now its one brain and 3 retardedly over-inflated egos.
So, I guess I am just happy. Odd place for me, I guess. Probably not so good at expressing it. Probably neglecting a lot of people and a lot of specific reasons why I feel the way I do. So each one of you who read this, think of something you've said to me, or something you've done for me, or just the last time you saw me, and give yourself a big hug from me. I love you all.
Current mood: cheerful
So, here it is. Been a long tome since I blogged anything. Hell, the environment has even changed. What's this insert emoticon deal?
So, what do I have to say. See, I'm not good at this. My blogs usually come out of negative emotion, and lately I've been quite happy. But, as my friend Beth pointed out recently, maybe people want to hear about being happy, too.
My niece is doing well, may be out of the hospital (finally) as early as today. 7 1/2 months old, and over 9 pounds now.
My other niece never ceases to amaze me as to how brilliant she's becoming. 2 years old, and she speaks the Queen's English. She may have some issues with her teachers in a couple years because of it, but I'll go down there and kick some verbal ass for her. As I said to my 5th grade English teacher, the course isn't called American.
My third niece -- yes, my sister is a baby-machine -- is due in October, and everything seems to be going quite well.
Went over to Mom's for Mother's Day with the intention of taking her out to dinner yesterday. Instead, she ended up cooking me dinner, and we watched Star Wars Episode II together. Did I ever mention that my Mom rocks?
Still reeling over the fact that I seem to have the coolest friends in the universe. Really, if I don't say it enough, each and every one of you rocks. Currently, I'd really like to thank my new adopted brothers, the Timmys, for inviting me to the gym with them. Every day I wake up sore as hell, and curse their very existence, but I do love going to the gym. I've wanted to get in shape for some time, but I knew I couldn't motivate myself. Now its one brain and 3 retardedly over-inflated egos.
So, I guess I am just happy. Odd place for me, I guess. Probably not so good at expressing it. Probably neglecting a lot of people and a lot of specific reasons why I feel the way I do. So each one of you who read this, think of something you've said to me, or something you've done for me, or just the last time you saw me, and give yourself a big hug from me. I love you all.
06 April 2005
Which is worse?
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: bored
Which is more tormenting? Is it better to detest your job with a vile kind of hate that can only be put into words my Tim Burton? Or is it better to be bored to death?
I've done both this week. Yet not at the same time. I don't know if things were better. I don't know if the beauti-gorge-lovely weather has made me incapable of hate today. I just know that today wasn't so bad. Actually decent. Accept for one thing. I've been bored off my freakin' ass all freakin' day
There may be a correlation. Maybe the fact that I'm bored indicates that it wasn't (for the 1st time in quite some time) so busy today. Maybe when its not so busy, people are less stressed. Less stressed = less douchebaggery. Less douchebaggery = € has a good day. 'cept one thing... € is bored out of his freakin' skull.
I guess as a pattern I'd rather be bored all day than hate my job. I guess, if need be, I can deal with that. But in the wake of 8 blog comments, and 16 needless bulletins, can all of you?
Enjoy the sunshine, people. Today is a beauti-gorge-lovely day.
Current mood: bored
Which is more tormenting? Is it better to detest your job with a vile kind of hate that can only be put into words my Tim Burton? Or is it better to be bored to death?
I've done both this week. Yet not at the same time. I don't know if things were better. I don't know if the beauti-gorge-lovely weather has made me incapable of hate today. I just know that today wasn't so bad. Actually decent. Accept for one thing. I've been bored off my freakin' ass all freakin' day
There may be a correlation. Maybe the fact that I'm bored indicates that it wasn't (for the 1st time in quite some time) so busy today. Maybe when its not so busy, people are less stressed. Less stressed = less douchebaggery. Less douchebaggery = € has a good day. 'cept one thing... € is bored out of his freakin' skull.
I guess as a pattern I'd rather be bored all day than hate my job. I guess, if need be, I can deal with that. But in the wake of 8 blog comments, and 16 needless bulletins, can all of you?
Enjoy the sunshine, people. Today is a beauti-gorge-lovely day.
28 March 2005
The weight of the world has made me 3" shorter
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: crappy
I don't know why I'm typing. Telling the world I'm overwhelmed isn't going to make me any less overwhelmed.
The rain, I think, is making me feel everything just a bit more today. It's a dreary day, and it echoes me well today.
Fortitudine Vincimus, the family motto, "by endurance we conquer". I'm not much for the conquering right now, but I'm doing my fair share of enduring. Conquer what?
Disjointed. Both this blog and my thoughts. I guess the latter is really the cause of the former. I just don't know what I can do to get a handle on my thoughts right now.
I write because I need to talk. More, I need to be listened to. But that can't happen unless I talk. I can't talk. There isn't a single person I can unload everything on. Not that I don't believe in my friends. I have great friends. And to each one I share a little bit of my pain, and keep other parts for myself. Each one wonderful in their compassion, but none of them capable of handling the big picture -- everything at once.
Correction, capable is not right. At least not on their part. Its my fault. I am not capable of telling all of it to any one person. Or not willing. But either way, it won't happen.
But today it consumes me. Stress can effect the body physically. Today my shoulders ache from the emotional weight I've carried on them.
I hope this isn't taken as whining. I just thought if I typed a bit I might be able to let go of even the tiniest part of it. Can't say it worked.
Currently listening :
Stone Temple Pilots - Purple
By Stone Temple Pilots
Release date: 07 June, 1994
Current mood: crappy
I don't know why I'm typing. Telling the world I'm overwhelmed isn't going to make me any less overwhelmed.
The rain, I think, is making me feel everything just a bit more today. It's a dreary day, and it echoes me well today.
Fortitudine Vincimus, the family motto, "by endurance we conquer". I'm not much for the conquering right now, but I'm doing my fair share of enduring. Conquer what?
Disjointed. Both this blog and my thoughts. I guess the latter is really the cause of the former. I just don't know what I can do to get a handle on my thoughts right now.
I write because I need to talk. More, I need to be listened to. But that can't happen unless I talk. I can't talk. There isn't a single person I can unload everything on. Not that I don't believe in my friends. I have great friends. And to each one I share a little bit of my pain, and keep other parts for myself. Each one wonderful in their compassion, but none of them capable of handling the big picture -- everything at once.
Correction, capable is not right. At least not on their part. Its my fault. I am not capable of telling all of it to any one person. Or not willing. But either way, it won't happen.
But today it consumes me. Stress can effect the body physically. Today my shoulders ache from the emotional weight I've carried on them.
I hope this isn't taken as whining. I just thought if I typed a bit I might be able to let go of even the tiniest part of it. Can't say it worked.
Currently listening :
Stone Temple Pilots - Purple
By Stone Temple Pilots
Release date: 07 June, 1994
19 February 2005
The Count of New Haven's emissary visit to Lord Fairfield
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: curious
OK, odd title, I know. But, really, we have eight counties. We should have Counts. I could be the Count of New Haven. My family still has a seat on the House of Lords, and a Barony in Ireland. But anyway...
So I found myself in the second shire of the lands of Count Fairfield. And what an odd nation it is. There I met a friend of a friend, and emissary of Lord Fairfield. We had both expected to meet a common friend, but when that person failed to show, I found myself with the will to approach anyway. "Hey, aren't you... Yeah, so-and-so's friend. I'm Ëener." I'm glad I did. I won't mention the friend, at least not until I speak with certain Bridgeport detectives, or the statute of limitations runs out. But I digress...
So, I'm there, listening to a band, with my new "Kevin Bacon friends". The band tripped me out a bit. Their entire 1st set was actually the rotation from VH1 from this September. In order, I believe. I only know this because I was home sick for two weeks in September with some odd flu, and watched Insomniac Music Theatre nonstop. But again, I deviate from what I believe may have been a point.
And so I find it to be 11:00. Usually not a special moment, but at precisely 11:00 I came to an odd realization about the foreign land I was in. See, by 11:00, I was now smoking my 5th cigarette. Now, in my home county, one cannot smoke a cigarette in a bar, but in this strange land, one can. That alone would have been odd, but not as noteworthy as the next point. Apparently, in Lord Fairfield's lands, 11:00 marks another special occasion. At that time, the young female bartenders are compelled to remove their jackets and/or sweaters, revealing their midriff exposing tank-tops. Again, not particularly special on its own. But when half the female patrons of the bar follow suit, removing their outer tops, reducing themselves to what could only be described as underwear from the waste up, this I feel is something of note.
Maybe its not. Maybe I don't get out enough. I'm just not sure this phenomenon exists in my home County. Maybe I'm not going to the right bars. Maybe I am going to the right bars. All I know is, things are just a wee bit different across the County Line.
Current mood: curious
OK, odd title, I know. But, really, we have eight counties. We should have Counts. I could be the Count of New Haven. My family still has a seat on the House of Lords, and a Barony in Ireland. But anyway...
So I found myself in the second shire of the lands of Count Fairfield. And what an odd nation it is. There I met a friend of a friend, and emissary of Lord Fairfield. We had both expected to meet a common friend, but when that person failed to show, I found myself with the will to approach anyway. "Hey, aren't you... Yeah, so-and-so's friend. I'm Ëener." I'm glad I did. I won't mention the friend, at least not until I speak with certain Bridgeport detectives, or the statute of limitations runs out. But I digress...
So, I'm there, listening to a band, with my new "Kevin Bacon friends". The band tripped me out a bit. Their entire 1st set was actually the rotation from VH1 from this September. In order, I believe. I only know this because I was home sick for two weeks in September with some odd flu, and watched Insomniac Music Theatre nonstop. But again, I deviate from what I believe may have been a point.
And so I find it to be 11:00. Usually not a special moment, but at precisely 11:00 I came to an odd realization about the foreign land I was in. See, by 11:00, I was now smoking my 5th cigarette. Now, in my home county, one cannot smoke a cigarette in a bar, but in this strange land, one can. That alone would have been odd, but not as noteworthy as the next point. Apparently, in Lord Fairfield's lands, 11:00 marks another special occasion. At that time, the young female bartenders are compelled to remove their jackets and/or sweaters, revealing their midriff exposing tank-tops. Again, not particularly special on its own. But when half the female patrons of the bar follow suit, removing their outer tops, reducing themselves to what could only be described as underwear from the waste up, this I feel is something of note.
Maybe its not. Maybe I don't get out enough. I'm just not sure this phenomenon exists in my home County. Maybe I'm not going to the right bars. Maybe I am going to the right bars. All I know is, things are just a wee bit different across the County Line.
13 February 2005
Odd night
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: melancholy
In Vino Veritas, sort of, except I almost feel sober.
I'm not sure why I feel the way I do. I doesn't really make much sense. The night just felt odd from the get go. 3 of the people I was with were drinking water all night. It was just that odd kind of night.
Went out to that place in the Valley. Sing a little karaoke, have a little send off for a friend who's moving down south (3rd send off really). Sang a couple songs I'd never tried before. Should have been a good night. But instead it was odd.
Seeing my friend move out of state shouldn't have been so huge. I don't think it was. We'd known each other about a year, nothing big. There'd been a harmless and pointless flirtation -- ladies, why is it that you flirt even when you know nothing could become of it, it confuses me -- but really, just a random friend; a once a week acquaintance, really.
So if that's not why I fell sort of odd at the moment, what is? I saw an old friend yesterday. She was in town from Germany for a couple days, so we caught dinner. Early tomorrow she'll be back on a plane for Colone. Won't see her again 'til July. But I talk to her online from time to time, and she's only away temporarily. That's probably not why I feel off.
I've been a bit preoccupied with another friend of mine of late. She's in a bit of legal trouble, and in central Europe (no, she lives there normally). Early Saturday I heard from her. She said she'd be going back to see her parents for a few the weekend, but left me with no information regarding her troubles. So, I worry about her a bit. But is that why tonight felt so off. Likely not, as I didn't even think about it until the drive home.
So what is the root of this oddest of feelings. You ever go out, and it just doesn't feel right? It feels like no one's quite having a good time. The idle chit chat is forced. I don't know. I just felt wrong. I sensed it the moment I walked in, and 4 hours later, I felt like I'd stayed far longer than I should have.
So, on the way home, I just thought. Every song sounded sadder than it should have, an although I passed the diner everyone went to after they left the bar, I had no desire to stop. It didn't foretell any better feelings than the bar I had just left. I came straight home, getting in about a half hour before even last call. And I type.
Think maybe I'll just go to bed, and hope by the morning things feel normal again. I'm a bit confused anyway, because I had Friday off, and by now I feel as I should be going back to work in the morning. How sad is it when a day off doesn't really feel like a bit of vacation, but instead just fucks with your mind. I don't like my job, but in a screwed up way, I think I missed it this weekend. Then again, ask me about it on Monday and I'll likely curse it as usual.
One last piece of the bizarre... at one point it the night I sneezed. When I did, my necklace of mahogany and hematite -- the one I wear most every day -- randomly exploded. My neck is not that huge. Very strange that it should just break like that. Little beads everywhere. If you believe in that kind of thing, hematite is supposed to absorb negativity. When it has absorbed more than it can bear, it is supposed to break. I thought I had pushed away all the negative people in my life. Maybe in the end, I broke it. All I know is I have to go to American Eagle or Aeropostále, and find something new. Life's too short to worry about the emotional stability of your neckware.
Current mood: melancholy
In Vino Veritas, sort of, except I almost feel sober.
I'm not sure why I feel the way I do. I doesn't really make much sense. The night just felt odd from the get go. 3 of the people I was with were drinking water all night. It was just that odd kind of night.
Went out to that place in the Valley. Sing a little karaoke, have a little send off for a friend who's moving down south (3rd send off really). Sang a couple songs I'd never tried before. Should have been a good night. But instead it was odd.
Seeing my friend move out of state shouldn't have been so huge. I don't think it was. We'd known each other about a year, nothing big. There'd been a harmless and pointless flirtation -- ladies, why is it that you flirt even when you know nothing could become of it, it confuses me -- but really, just a random friend; a once a week acquaintance, really.
So if that's not why I fell sort of odd at the moment, what is? I saw an old friend yesterday. She was in town from Germany for a couple days, so we caught dinner. Early tomorrow she'll be back on a plane for Colone. Won't see her again 'til July. But I talk to her online from time to time, and she's only away temporarily. That's probably not why I feel off.
I've been a bit preoccupied with another friend of mine of late. She's in a bit of legal trouble, and in central Europe (no, she lives there normally). Early Saturday I heard from her. She said she'd be going back to see her parents for a few the weekend, but left me with no information regarding her troubles. So, I worry about her a bit. But is that why tonight felt so off. Likely not, as I didn't even think about it until the drive home.
So what is the root of this oddest of feelings. You ever go out, and it just doesn't feel right? It feels like no one's quite having a good time. The idle chit chat is forced. I don't know. I just felt wrong. I sensed it the moment I walked in, and 4 hours later, I felt like I'd stayed far longer than I should have.
So, on the way home, I just thought. Every song sounded sadder than it should have, an although I passed the diner everyone went to after they left the bar, I had no desire to stop. It didn't foretell any better feelings than the bar I had just left. I came straight home, getting in about a half hour before even last call. And I type.
Think maybe I'll just go to bed, and hope by the morning things feel normal again. I'm a bit confused anyway, because I had Friday off, and by now I feel as I should be going back to work in the morning. How sad is it when a day off doesn't really feel like a bit of vacation, but instead just fucks with your mind. I don't like my job, but in a screwed up way, I think I missed it this weekend. Then again, ask me about it on Monday and I'll likely curse it as usual.
One last piece of the bizarre... at one point it the night I sneezed. When I did, my necklace of mahogany and hematite -- the one I wear most every day -- randomly exploded. My neck is not that huge. Very strange that it should just break like that. Little beads everywhere. If you believe in that kind of thing, hematite is supposed to absorb negativity. When it has absorbed more than it can bear, it is supposed to break. I thought I had pushed away all the negative people in my life. Maybe in the end, I broke it. All I know is I have to go to American Eagle or Aeropostále, and find something new. Life's too short to worry about the emotional stability of your neckware.
08 February 2005
The Pretty Hate Machine
I was listening to the album. Probably for the first time in its entirety since 1996. Some of you know that I just couldn't for a very long time. The album was a favorite of mine at a time in my life when my emotional state coincided too closely with the of Trent Reznor at the time when he wrote it. Literally, the album would bring me to tears.
So, after some time I came to terms with the girl who was the object of the album to me. We became really good friends again. She was in my wedding. Recently I was at hers. So, since the point of her wedding, I figured I could deal with the album again. I figured I had to give it another chance, I consider it one of the best albums of the early nineties. To give it up forever would be unfair.
So, I put the album in my CD player in my car. I've gotten from start to finish on it. (Took me a couple days, my commute is pretty short.) No tears, no emotions. Not even any bad memories. It's just the music again. Trent is still angry about his love life of the time, but I'm not. It's good again... except for one thing...
It's not. Although I still recognize the significance of the album when it came out, I just don't find it good anymore. It's so very dated now. It's beginning to sound now like it was produced entirely on a single Casio keyboard. I don't mean to knock it, it was a great album. But now I feel like a shelved it for so long, I missed a lot of the opportunity to enjoy it. And now it is just flat.
Currently listening :
Pretty Hate Machine
By Nine Inch Nails
Release date: 24 September, 1991
So, after some time I came to terms with the girl who was the object of the album to me. We became really good friends again. She was in my wedding. Recently I was at hers. So, since the point of her wedding, I figured I could deal with the album again. I figured I had to give it another chance, I consider it one of the best albums of the early nineties. To give it up forever would be unfair.
So, I put the album in my CD player in my car. I've gotten from start to finish on it. (Took me a couple days, my commute is pretty short.) No tears, no emotions. Not even any bad memories. It's just the music again. Trent is still angry about his love life of the time, but I'm not. It's good again... except for one thing...
It's not. Although I still recognize the significance of the album when it came out, I just don't find it good anymore. It's so very dated now. It's beginning to sound now like it was produced entirely on a single Casio keyboard. I don't mean to knock it, it was a great album. But now I feel like a shelved it for so long, I missed a lot of the opportunity to enjoy it. And now it is just flat.
Currently listening :
Pretty Hate Machine
By Nine Inch Nails
Release date: 24 September, 1991
04 February 2005
Pizza City, USA
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: full
*Disclaimer: for the purposes of this blog, "pizza" actually means pizza*
So for lunch today I'm having pizza. Bacon and Mozz from Amato's. Garlic bread with Mozz. Foxon Park Kola. And I'm thinking, if I ever left this area, I'd really miss the Pizza.
Say what you will about pizza from your hometown, but for me, New Haven pizza is the best. New York style, big and floppy, is a decent 2nd place, but nothing beats New Haven.
Its a great place to be if you love pizza. Pepe's, Sally's, Modern, Bar, Abate's, Amato's, Tolli's, the list goes on and on.
I've lived in Boston, and I've lived in Montreal, and one of the things I really missed was pizza. I'd miss it so much I'd order pizza there, and not surprisingly, I'd be utterly disgusted.
So, now is the group participation part. Drop a comment, and answer next few questions about pizza (yes, about actual pizza, Firecracker). And since most of the people who read my blog are from, or live, down here in Southern CT, I'm gonna keep some of it regional. Oh, and remove my answers. I want to hear yours, not just mine again. Here goes:
1.) Best pizza topping(s): Bacon and Onion (sometimes known as the Irish Pie)
2.) Define "plain": Sauce, no cheese, sometimes a bit of oregano or basil
3.) Most ridiculous pizza topping: Probably the Everything + Smoked Meat + Meat Sauce from the place down the street from my grandfather in Montreal. One slice made me full for days.
4.) Worst Pizza you've ever had: Possibly T-Anthony's in Boston. Yet we still went there all the time
5.) Best city to get pizza: New Haven, CT
6.) Best Pizzaria: Modern Apizza, State Street, New Haven
7.) Best Delivery that serves your home: Pizza di Roma, West Haven
8.) Pepe's or Sally's: Pepe's
9.) If not Pepe's or Sally's, best place to get "New Haven Pizza": Modern, or Bar
10.) Donal Logue's unfinished thoughts about pizza: (for those of you who watch I love the 90's)
Currently listening :
Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Release date: 08 June, 2004
Current mood: full
*Disclaimer: for the purposes of this blog, "pizza" actually means pizza*
So for lunch today I'm having pizza. Bacon and Mozz from Amato's. Garlic bread with Mozz. Foxon Park Kola. And I'm thinking, if I ever left this area, I'd really miss the Pizza.
Say what you will about pizza from your hometown, but for me, New Haven pizza is the best. New York style, big and floppy, is a decent 2nd place, but nothing beats New Haven.
Its a great place to be if you love pizza. Pepe's, Sally's, Modern, Bar, Abate's, Amato's, Tolli's, the list goes on and on.
I've lived in Boston, and I've lived in Montreal, and one of the things I really missed was pizza. I'd miss it so much I'd order pizza there, and not surprisingly, I'd be utterly disgusted.
So, now is the group participation part. Drop a comment, and answer next few questions about pizza (yes, about actual pizza, Firecracker). And since most of the people who read my blog are from, or live, down here in Southern CT, I'm gonna keep some of it regional. Oh, and remove my answers. I want to hear yours, not just mine again. Here goes:
1.) Best pizza topping(s): Bacon and Onion (sometimes known as the Irish Pie)
2.) Define "plain": Sauce, no cheese, sometimes a bit of oregano or basil
3.) Most ridiculous pizza topping: Probably the Everything + Smoked Meat + Meat Sauce from the place down the street from my grandfather in Montreal. One slice made me full for days.
4.) Worst Pizza you've ever had: Possibly T-Anthony's in Boston. Yet we still went there all the time
5.) Best city to get pizza: New Haven, CT
6.) Best Pizzaria: Modern Apizza, State Street, New Haven
7.) Best Delivery that serves your home: Pizza di Roma, West Haven
8.) Pepe's or Sally's: Pepe's
9.) If not Pepe's or Sally's, best place to get "New Haven Pizza": Modern, or Bar
10.) Donal Logue's unfinished thoughts about pizza: (for those of you who watch I love the 90's)
Currently listening :
Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Release date: 08 June, 2004
02 February 2005
And I'd hoped this would be the good year
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: disillusioned
Reading Pete’s blogs, and his references to the Lizard Boss – God, I haven’t heard that in years since I listened to the WigMaster religiously – reminded my of my own waddling superior. But, if I get into that here, I’ll be writing for days.
So, this year has opened up in an interesting form. A watermain break on the Saturday of the blizzard has rendered 2/3 of our office space non-usable. 8 employees are dislocated, phones and computers destroyed, and we no longer have a bathroom.
So today I decide actually I need to use the bathroom, so I go to the public men's room. Big mistake. Not only because of its publicness – those of you who know where I would know that I generally deal with only the scummy underbelly of human life – but because when I went in, I discovered that "the office" was already being used for a random urinalysis. Bloody lovely. I so fucking less than 3 my job!
Its just been like this all year, and its only February. Every stupid thing that can go wrong just does. 2 of my favourite co-workers – the kind of people who actually make the place bearable – are leaving, and I found out I'm dreadfully under-qualified for any of the jobs I thought of as my ticket out.
So, I don't know. I'm grumbley, I'm aware of that. My current pattern is work 5 days, commiserate with my other disheartened friends about 4 days, talk to my friends in Europe about once a week, and once a week go out and commit random acts of drunken self-destruction. I've gotten to the point that if I can drag my ass to work on Thursday I feel like I've accomplished something that week.
I'm pathetic.
I need a change, but I'm not sure what it is. I looked into going back to school today, that turned into a roadblock. I don't exactly have $16,000 in disposable income these days. New Dimensions is a crock. Its great if you're independently wealthy and want a degree in Business Management only. If I was that wealthy, I'm sure I could "buy" a BSBM from just about any school I wanted. I'm about this close to inventing a degree for myself. Nobody checks anyway. At 28 years old I could easily have a bachelors by now. I could have a doctorate by now, but I needed to get a job some time ago.
OK, I'm running away on a bizarre tangent. What was I saying? I don't know. Don't mind me. Maybe I just need to grab a slice of pizza?
Current mood: disillusioned
Reading Pete’s blogs, and his references to the Lizard Boss – God, I haven’t heard that in years since I listened to the WigMaster religiously – reminded my of my own waddling superior. But, if I get into that here, I’ll be writing for days.
So, this year has opened up in an interesting form. A watermain break on the Saturday of the blizzard has rendered 2/3 of our office space non-usable. 8 employees are dislocated, phones and computers destroyed, and we no longer have a bathroom.
So today I decide actually I need to use the bathroom, so I go to the public men's room. Big mistake. Not only because of its publicness – those of you who know where I would know that I generally deal with only the scummy underbelly of human life – but because when I went in, I discovered that "the office" was already being used for a random urinalysis. Bloody lovely. I so fucking less than 3 my job!
Its just been like this all year, and its only February. Every stupid thing that can go wrong just does. 2 of my favourite co-workers – the kind of people who actually make the place bearable – are leaving, and I found out I'm dreadfully under-qualified for any of the jobs I thought of as my ticket out.
So, I don't know. I'm grumbley, I'm aware of that. My current pattern is work 5 days, commiserate with my other disheartened friends about 4 days, talk to my friends in Europe about once a week, and once a week go out and commit random acts of drunken self-destruction. I've gotten to the point that if I can drag my ass to work on Thursday I feel like I've accomplished something that week.
I'm pathetic.
I need a change, but I'm not sure what it is. I looked into going back to school today, that turned into a roadblock. I don't exactly have $16,000 in disposable income these days. New Dimensions is a crock. Its great if you're independently wealthy and want a degree in Business Management only. If I was that wealthy, I'm sure I could "buy" a BSBM from just about any school I wanted. I'm about this close to inventing a degree for myself. Nobody checks anyway. At 28 years old I could easily have a bachelors by now. I could have a doctorate by now, but I needed to get a job some time ago.
OK, I'm running away on a bizarre tangent. What was I saying? I don't know. Don't mind me. Maybe I just need to grab a slice of pizza?
31 January 2005
The Continuing Tale of Buddy Bartender
So its Saturday... about 10:00 p.m. I'm at my friend's new place, after having just busted my ass helping him move at a whirlwind pace. (We unpacked a full, stuffed, UHaul truck in 59 minutes to get it back on time.)
So we're sitting around, and my phone rings. I take a look... "Incoming Call: M______ D_______". So, I turn to my friend, "It's my buddy that owns the bar. Oh, he left a voicemail, you gotta listen to this!"
So I check my voicemail on speakerphone so my friend and his wife can hear just how pathetic Buddy Bartender is.
"Hey! Its M____. Yeah... I haven't heard from you in a while. What're you up to. If you're not doing anything, why don't you come on down. I'm workin' tonight."
Now at this point, I'm thinking 'Wow, is it pathetic or what when the bartender is calling individual patrons to come down on a Saturday night', and the message continues...
"Yeah, we should hang out."
Really, when your friend asks you to hang out, are you paying him $4 a beer?
"Oh, and we should talk about the Benefit. Yeah, its all set for the 27th. Yeah, so if your not doing anything, you should come on down. Gimme a call."
So, I did offer to help him with the benefit. I don't know what help I can give him. I've got his media hook-up all set, but what's to promote when he can't even get one band I'd actually listen to?
So I explain this to my friends, about the benefit, and what a loser he's become, and how we sort of abandoned his bar, and then it hits me...
The voicemail was crystal clear, no background noise whatsoever. No band, no noisy patrons, nothing. Nothing at all.
So we're sitting around, and my phone rings. I take a look... "Incoming Call: M______ D_______". So, I turn to my friend, "It's my buddy that owns the bar. Oh, he left a voicemail, you gotta listen to this!"
So I check my voicemail on speakerphone so my friend and his wife can hear just how pathetic Buddy Bartender is.
"Hey! Its M____. Yeah... I haven't heard from you in a while. What're you up to. If you're not doing anything, why don't you come on down. I'm workin' tonight."
Now at this point, I'm thinking 'Wow, is it pathetic or what when the bartender is calling individual patrons to come down on a Saturday night', and the message continues...
"Yeah, we should hang out."
Really, when your friend asks you to hang out, are you paying him $4 a beer?
"Oh, and we should talk about the Benefit. Yeah, its all set for the 27th. Yeah, so if your not doing anything, you should come on down. Gimme a call."
So, I did offer to help him with the benefit. I don't know what help I can give him. I've got his media hook-up all set, but what's to promote when he can't even get one band I'd actually listen to?
So I explain this to my friends, about the benefit, and what a loser he's become, and how we sort of abandoned his bar, and then it hits me...
The voicemail was crystal clear, no background noise whatsoever. No band, no noisy patrons, nothing. Nothing at all.
22 January 2005
Snowed in
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: cold
... well not really. I do have a decent SUV, and could get out if I need to. But nonetheless, I hate the feeling. I would say I need or want to be anywhere today, but knowing that I probably couldn't or shouldn't go out bothers me anyway.
Its very cold. The gas company left about an hour ago after fixing my furnace. We called them at 3:00 am. Great service in 12 hours. But anyway, we have heat again. Its just taking a while for the house to warm up.
So, I feel cold and trapped. but I guess my day is better than it began. I'll get over it. There's gotta be something fun to do today. Maybe a good movie. I have 200 channel digital cable that I really never use; time to see what's on.
Currently listening :
Countdown to Extinction
By Megadeth
Release date: 14 July, 1992
Current mood: cold
... well not really. I do have a decent SUV, and could get out if I need to. But nonetheless, I hate the feeling. I would say I need or want to be anywhere today, but knowing that I probably couldn't or shouldn't go out bothers me anyway.
Its very cold. The gas company left about an hour ago after fixing my furnace. We called them at 3:00 am. Great service in 12 hours. But anyway, we have heat again. Its just taking a while for the house to warm up.
So, I feel cold and trapped. but I guess my day is better than it began. I'll get over it. There's gotta be something fun to do today. Maybe a good movie. I have 200 channel digital cable that I really never use; time to see what's on.
Currently listening :
Countdown to Extinction
By Megadeth
Release date: 14 July, 1992
20 January 2005
random thoughts of the drive home (with 11 hour delay)
I will try to keep this honest and shut off the filter called sobriety. So, I will now attempt to make this post in vino veritas after the fact.
I think at this point I'm going to say that, contrary to the opinions of those who knew him before me, Charlie isn't actually a douchebag. He's kinda growing on me as a person. But that doesn't change the fact that as a KJ, he sort of sucks. I don't see any reason to tolerate that anymore.
Which brings me to "Buddy Bar-Owner"... The longer I know him, the more I think he kinda is a douchebag. He's maybe more like the friend that you know is a bad person. I had a friend like that a while back, he was a great friend, but really not a good person. The fact that my buddy owns a bar is no longer a reason to go to a bad bar. If he had a shred of integrity, and could keep to a promise, maybe. But then again, I wouldn't be going to see him at his bar at that point, I'd be going to work, or going to see Firecracker at work.
So, we made a good choice. Open Mic was a better scene. Cool to see Old-Friend-Bassist-Dude. Cool to see Firecracker's "brother". The rest seemed cool people, and although I hadn't known then for years, I felt pretty welcomed. Maybe next time I'll make the attempt to sing. Might check out Friday's show.
Have to admit, the competition for Firecracker's attention was a little thick. Maybe I'm only bothered by it because I was one of the competitors. Its sad that there are scores of guys who'd like nothing more than to have her to themselves, but at the same time are just the wrong guys. And so they are the endless stream of big brothers and Stanford Blatches, who but for the wrong time and place...
Human self image is such a strange thing. Why is it that we only see ourselves as being good enough, good looking enough, worthy of a certain level of person, and really understand our wants and value at a time when it no longer matters. Its funny how no one is out of your league when your no longer playing. But I have the feeling that if you were to come out of retirement, all the old insecurities would just come rushing back.
OK, I lied. There was another part from the random stream of thoughts as I drove that I think I'll have to cut. Another time perhaps, but not here right now. Sorry, I guess "indeed my hypocrisy knows no bounds."
Currently listening :
Nobody's Home
By Avril Lavigne
Release date: 15 November, 2004
I think at this point I'm going to say that, contrary to the opinions of those who knew him before me, Charlie isn't actually a douchebag. He's kinda growing on me as a person. But that doesn't change the fact that as a KJ, he sort of sucks. I don't see any reason to tolerate that anymore.
Which brings me to "Buddy Bar-Owner"... The longer I know him, the more I think he kinda is a douchebag. He's maybe more like the friend that you know is a bad person. I had a friend like that a while back, he was a great friend, but really not a good person. The fact that my buddy owns a bar is no longer a reason to go to a bad bar. If he had a shred of integrity, and could keep to a promise, maybe. But then again, I wouldn't be going to see him at his bar at that point, I'd be going to work, or going to see Firecracker at work.
So, we made a good choice. Open Mic was a better scene. Cool to see Old-Friend-Bassist-Dude. Cool to see Firecracker's "brother". The rest seemed cool people, and although I hadn't known then for years, I felt pretty welcomed. Maybe next time I'll make the attempt to sing. Might check out Friday's show.
Have to admit, the competition for Firecracker's attention was a little thick. Maybe I'm only bothered by it because I was one of the competitors. Its sad that there are scores of guys who'd like nothing more than to have her to themselves, but at the same time are just the wrong guys. And so they are the endless stream of big brothers and Stanford Blatches, who but for the wrong time and place...
Human self image is such a strange thing. Why is it that we only see ourselves as being good enough, good looking enough, worthy of a certain level of person, and really understand our wants and value at a time when it no longer matters. Its funny how no one is out of your league when your no longer playing. But I have the feeling that if you were to come out of retirement, all the old insecurities would just come rushing back.
OK, I lied. There was another part from the random stream of thoughts as I drove that I think I'll have to cut. Another time perhaps, but not here right now. Sorry, I guess "indeed my hypocrisy knows no bounds."
Currently listening :
Nobody's Home
By Avril Lavigne
Release date: 15 November, 2004
18 January 2005
As time flies by
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: hungry
Wow, its January 18th... already. Only 18 days into the new year, but it feels like yesterday I was shoulder-blocking mall patrons trying to finish up the last of my Christmas shopping.
The good news is, having made no real resolutions, I have gone back on none of them. As for my change of attitude, I think I've been doing a decent job of making this year about me. Not selfish or self absorbed; I think I'll call my new attitude "self-interested".
Its very cold today. For the first time in a long time even I'm complaining its cold. Usually its 30 degrees, I'm in shorts, and bitching about the heat being up too much. Its supposed to get colder as the week goes on. So now my challenge is to find a way to keep my ears warm without screwing up my fabulous hair. Either that or contemplate the ear-less look as I lose them to frostbite.
It has the feelings of becoming a long week. Luckily we had yesterday off, and its already Tuesday. A long 4-day week is still better than a short 5-day week.
So, I'll hold to that thought for now.
Current mood: hungry
Wow, its January 18th... already. Only 18 days into the new year, but it feels like yesterday I was shoulder-blocking mall patrons trying to finish up the last of my Christmas shopping.
The good news is, having made no real resolutions, I have gone back on none of them. As for my change of attitude, I think I've been doing a decent job of making this year about me. Not selfish or self absorbed; I think I'll call my new attitude "self-interested".
Its very cold today. For the first time in a long time even I'm complaining its cold. Usually its 30 degrees, I'm in shorts, and bitching about the heat being up too much. Its supposed to get colder as the week goes on. So now my challenge is to find a way to keep my ears warm without screwing up my fabulous hair. Either that or contemplate the ear-less look as I lose them to frostbite.
It has the feelings of becoming a long week. Luckily we had yesterday off, and its already Tuesday. A long 4-day week is still better than a short 5-day week.
So, I'll hold to that thought for now.
13 January 2005
Self destruction
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: groggy
Hung over... still.
I made the mistake of deciding to call in sick while I while I was still out. In a way, I guess I knew I needed a day, but the effect was sort of giving myself permission to get fucking retarded. I remember last night, but it is a bit blurry.
In my cloistered (right word, I think) existence, I build up, then go out and release. Unfortunately, if I'm not out drinking, I'm working, or at home doing absofuckinglutely nothing. I should build a macro of the 5 or 6 email accounts, PHP boards, and other websites I check religiously in sequence.
If I'm not in front of my computer, I'm watching some Discovery Channel program about building or rebuilding cars or bikes. I'd really like to get out there and actually try some of this stuff, but I don't have the budget to start such a project. So, I sit around thinking how cool it would be to do this or that thing to my Golf. I could probably do most of it myself if not for the lack of tools and facilities. So I wonder how ridiculously expensive it would be to have it done, and usually resign myself to completing the mod only in Photoshop. (The rallye stripes look awesome on the jpeg, but will probably never make it on my car.)
So I have all this pent up desire to be constructive, but all I get to do is think about it. I need a change. My job is frustrating, and my life is becoming equally so. So, once a week, I go out and unload it all, and have a good time (I think), and realize the next day that I really didn't. What am I doing?
Maybe I need to find a better down time. What does a 28 year old guy do to unwind. I've thought about it. Of the evening entertainments out there, is there one better suited for me than drinking? I'm fairly certain my liver hopes so. I really want to bartend -- all the fun, less alcohol consumption.
I'm losing focus, both in this blog entry, and in my life. Am I where I want to be right now? Do I know where I'm supposed to be? A year ago, I was living this same life, but I found it fun; I really felt like I was living. Now, I feel like I'm buying time, going through the motions. But what the heck am I waiting for? What great thing is going to happen to give my life purpose?
And will I survive until then?
Currently listening :
Audioslave
By Audioslave
Release date: 19 November, 2002
Current mood: groggy
Hung over... still.
I made the mistake of deciding to call in sick while I while I was still out. In a way, I guess I knew I needed a day, but the effect was sort of giving myself permission to get fucking retarded. I remember last night, but it is a bit blurry.
In my cloistered (right word, I think) existence, I build up, then go out and release. Unfortunately, if I'm not out drinking, I'm working, or at home doing absofuckinglutely nothing. I should build a macro of the 5 or 6 email accounts, PHP boards, and other websites I check religiously in sequence.
If I'm not in front of my computer, I'm watching some Discovery Channel program about building or rebuilding cars or bikes. I'd really like to get out there and actually try some of this stuff, but I don't have the budget to start such a project. So, I sit around thinking how cool it would be to do this or that thing to my Golf. I could probably do most of it myself if not for the lack of tools and facilities. So I wonder how ridiculously expensive it would be to have it done, and usually resign myself to completing the mod only in Photoshop. (The rallye stripes look awesome on the jpeg, but will probably never make it on my car.)
So I have all this pent up desire to be constructive, but all I get to do is think about it. I need a change. My job is frustrating, and my life is becoming equally so. So, once a week, I go out and unload it all, and have a good time (I think), and realize the next day that I really didn't. What am I doing?
Maybe I need to find a better down time. What does a 28 year old guy do to unwind. I've thought about it. Of the evening entertainments out there, is there one better suited for me than drinking? I'm fairly certain my liver hopes so. I really want to bartend -- all the fun, less alcohol consumption.
I'm losing focus, both in this blog entry, and in my life. Am I where I want to be right now? Do I know where I'm supposed to be? A year ago, I was living this same life, but I found it fun; I really felt like I was living. Now, I feel like I'm buying time, going through the motions. But what the heck am I waiting for? What great thing is going to happen to give my life purpose?
And will I survive until then?
Currently listening :
Audioslave
By Audioslave
Release date: 19 November, 2002
12 January 2005
People confuse me
I have to wonder why people ask certain things when they don't want an answer. Sometimes I wonder why people speak at all.
We recently relocated at work. Those who weren't effected believe it's the greatest thing for us. Those of us who moved think it's horrible. And we're not even complaining because we liked our old space, or because the desks are smaller. There are legitimate issues of efficiency in the new location.
So every day, twice to thrice a day, someone asks me, "So how do you like the new space? It's nice, right?" But the problem is, they don't want an answer. And, I seem to be pissing people off with my candor because I don't think they want the answer I have to give.
I have decided for my own sanity, to stop placating people. I've noticed a lot of people have. 2005 seems to be a year of brutal honesty. So, since I don't want to lie, and say "Oh yeah, it's great", what do I do?
How do you answer the question that really is "So how do you like the new space? It's nice, right? I've been convinced of that, so don't disagree with me."?
I don't know how to deal with this, but if I have to one more time, I think I'm gonna lose my shit.
We recently relocated at work. Those who weren't effected believe it's the greatest thing for us. Those of us who moved think it's horrible. And we're not even complaining because we liked our old space, or because the desks are smaller. There are legitimate issues of efficiency in the new location.
So every day, twice to thrice a day, someone asks me, "So how do you like the new space? It's nice, right?" But the problem is, they don't want an answer. And, I seem to be pissing people off with my candor because I don't think they want the answer I have to give.
I have decided for my own sanity, to stop placating people. I've noticed a lot of people have. 2005 seems to be a year of brutal honesty. So, since I don't want to lie, and say "Oh yeah, it's great", what do I do?
How do you answer the question that really is "So how do you like the new space? It's nice, right? I've been convinced of that, so don't disagree with me."?
I don't know how to deal with this, but if I have to one more time, I think I'm gonna lose my shit.
10 January 2005
Do you have your sign?
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: cynical
My new profile image is this sign. I'm certain it's a Photoshop manipulation, but it rings so true nonetheless. My job in many ways reminds me of this sign. Today I suggested hanging a sign outside my office that read as follows:
Oddly, most people who heard this suggestion received it pretty well, and took it fairly seriously. I guess we're all sort of burnt.
To steal a rant from a friend, it’s like the silica gel shipped with electronics and leather goods to prevent moisture. There is a warning printed on it that reads "Do Not Eat". Why? Did some idiot think his CD player came with free mints? Do we really want to remind the stupid of the obvious? I don't. I think Darwinism says they should have been killed by a rampaging mammoth by now.
The signs only make us dumber. The fact that I put up my last office sign in English and Spanish only perpetuates the idea that people in this country need not learn English. The average Dutchman speaks 4 languages and smokes marijuana. Are people who put mayonnaise on french fries our intellectual superiors?
You can sue someone in this country if you spill hot coffee on your own crotch. But... not if the cup is labeled "Warning! Hot Coffee may be Hot!" We are no longer expected to comprehend the obvious unless it’s written down for us. So, buy deduction, it's now culturally acceptable to be an imbecile, but not to be illiterate. Hmm.
Perhaps the true meaning of it all is you can get away with anything if you're the first one to do it. I think I'll try suing the company who made my tailpipe for nearly asphyxiating myself when I try to playing it like a musical instrument. I'll collect 2.6 million dollars, and next week we'll all have warning labels that say "Caution! Tailpipe is not a Musical Instrument. Do Not put in Mouth!". But now I have to act quickly, before one of you out there steals my lawsuit.
My favourite comedian, Eddie Izzard has a joke about the Catholics and "Original Sin", like it’s a contest to impress the priest with a sin he's never heard before. It may not quite work that way in the Church of Rome, but it seems to in a court of law.
In the mean time, I have to go. I have more signs to put up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And again, I'm listening to a CD that isn't available from Amazon, so I'll have to type it in.
Currently listening:
Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Released: 2004
Current mood: cynical
My new profile image is this sign. I'm certain it's a Photoshop manipulation, but it rings so true nonetheless. My job in many ways reminds me of this sign. Today I suggested hanging a sign outside my office that read as follows:
This is the Prosecutors' Office.
Our main duty is to attempt to put people in jail.
Please keep this in mind before asking your question.
Our main duty is to attempt to put people in jail.
Please keep this in mind before asking your question.
Oddly, most people who heard this suggestion received it pretty well, and took it fairly seriously. I guess we're all sort of burnt.
To steal a rant from a friend, it’s like the silica gel shipped with electronics and leather goods to prevent moisture. There is a warning printed on it that reads "Do Not Eat". Why? Did some idiot think his CD player came with free mints? Do we really want to remind the stupid of the obvious? I don't. I think Darwinism says they should have been killed by a rampaging mammoth by now.
The signs only make us dumber. The fact that I put up my last office sign in English and Spanish only perpetuates the idea that people in this country need not learn English. The average Dutchman speaks 4 languages and smokes marijuana. Are people who put mayonnaise on french fries our intellectual superiors?
You can sue someone in this country if you spill hot coffee on your own crotch. But... not if the cup is labeled "Warning! Hot Coffee may be Hot!" We are no longer expected to comprehend the obvious unless it’s written down for us. So, buy deduction, it's now culturally acceptable to be an imbecile, but not to be illiterate. Hmm.
Perhaps the true meaning of it all is you can get away with anything if you're the first one to do it. I think I'll try suing the company who made my tailpipe for nearly asphyxiating myself when I try to playing it like a musical instrument. I'll collect 2.6 million dollars, and next week we'll all have warning labels that say "Caution! Tailpipe is not a Musical Instrument. Do Not put in Mouth!". But now I have to act quickly, before one of you out there steals my lawsuit.
My favourite comedian, Eddie Izzard has a joke about the Catholics and "Original Sin", like it’s a contest to impress the priest with a sin he's never heard before. It may not quite work that way in the Church of Rome, but it seems to in a court of law.
In the mean time, I have to go. I have more signs to put up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And again, I'm listening to a CD that isn't available from Amazon, so I'll have to type it in.
Currently listening:
Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Released: 2004
09 January 2005
And the night played on...
So I went out last night, to my buddy's bar, to see a couple bands. The headlining band was awesome. The opening band was good for a group of 14 and 15 years olds (who books 14 & 15 year olds???). Didn't stay much past the 1st song of the 3rd band; I was just beat from the day and the week.
Generally a good show, and a good night out; the Guinness was flowing pretty freely. But the interesting point of the night came on about 12. That's when I had to say to myself, "Who invited the hookers?"
I love watching people, seeing what kinds of people come to places, and what crazy things that actually costume themselves in before they arrive. And these three where great. With their entourage of "Vinny the Super-Guid'", "Paco the Busboy", and the 2 old gay dudes, these three evoked questions such as “Is that a skirt or a belt?”, “Can human hair actually be bleached that much or is she an albino with a bad perm?”, and “Gee, when I’m not looking, does my mom actually dress that bad?”
They were a sight to behold! Makes me wish I had a camera-phone.
Earth is a fascinating place.
Currently listening:
Brethren
By Ink
Release date: 2004
Generally a good show, and a good night out; the Guinness was flowing pretty freely. But the interesting point of the night came on about 12. That's when I had to say to myself, "Who invited the hookers?"
I love watching people, seeing what kinds of people come to places, and what crazy things that actually costume themselves in before they arrive. And these three where great. With their entourage of "Vinny the Super-Guid'", "Paco the Busboy", and the 2 old gay dudes, these three evoked questions such as “Is that a skirt or a belt?”, “Can human hair actually be bleached that much or is she an albino with a bad perm?”, and “Gee, when I’m not looking, does my mom actually dress that bad?”
They were a sight to behold! Makes me wish I had a camera-phone.
Earth is a fascinating place.
Currently listening:
Brethren
By Ink
Release date: 2004
07 January 2005
Mr. Murphy and his damn law
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: exhausted
Just got home from work. 3 hrs and 45 minutes later. Bad enough day at work... Bad enough week, really...
But 3 hours and 45 minutes between my job and home -- usually 20 minutes. For what? A stupid flat tire.
A flat tire should be resolved in less than 3 hours and 45 minutes. No? Not today, I guess.
So I'm a half mile from my exit. Hear an odd noise. Like the noise a vibration would make, but without the vibration. So I pull off at the gas station... its flat. Well not very flat. There isn't much flat a 45 series (low profile) tire can get.
Air. Nope. Tire is losing air faster than the pump can put it in. OK, call wife. Have wife come to gas station with my extra tires. What the heck, I have 5 spares! Wife calls back. Her truck covered in ice. Where's ice scraper? Windshield wiper is... Cell phone dies!
Now I have my phone on me every day. Charge it every night. Battery lasts 3 days. Nope. Cell phone will always die when tire is flat.
Wife arrives at gas station with spare tires. With the full-size spare in my trunk I now have 9 tires with me. Jack in hand, trusty VW tool kit at the ready... VW lug wrench doesn't fit after market BBS wheels!
Back home. Change out of work clothes into jeans. Get lug wrench. Call tire place. Road hazard: yes, tire in stock: no, get it tomorrow: possibly. OK, I can deal with that. Phone on charger, back to gas station.
Round 2- Lug wrench: check, Jack: check, Spare tire: check check check check check. Jack up car. Jack crank is of course longer than ground clearance. Bust knuckle. Ow! Still going. Wheel off. Other wheel... What the ?!? How does the OEM wheel not fit?!?
Inspect hub. Inspect wheel. Inspect other wheel. Hmmm... Oh, hub spacer. Hub spacer? Weird after market BBS wheels. Just... take... off... Damn! Hub spacer won't come off.
Contemplate. Car up on flimsy roadside jack in gas station parking lot. Flat tire fits, spare tire doesn't. Could take flat tire to tire shop and have flat replaced, but can't leave car in parking lot on flimsy jack. Could put on spare and drive car to tire shop, but spare tire won't go on. What do I... Wait! Roadside Assistance!!
Call VW roadside assistance. Flat tire. Yes, I have a spare. No, I can't put it on. No, I don't think he could put it on either. Flat bed? One hour? OK. Mmm... gas station dinner.
OK, well, the towing went OK, and hopefully I'll have a new tire tomorrow. Got no car until then. But damn you, Mr. Murphy. Did if have to be today? I'm tired.
Current mood: exhausted
Just got home from work. 3 hrs and 45 minutes later. Bad enough day at work... Bad enough week, really...
But 3 hours and 45 minutes between my job and home -- usually 20 minutes. For what? A stupid flat tire.
A flat tire should be resolved in less than 3 hours and 45 minutes. No? Not today, I guess.
So I'm a half mile from my exit. Hear an odd noise. Like the noise a vibration would make, but without the vibration. So I pull off at the gas station... its flat. Well not very flat. There isn't much flat a 45 series (low profile) tire can get.
Air. Nope. Tire is losing air faster than the pump can put it in. OK, call wife. Have wife come to gas station with my extra tires. What the heck, I have 5 spares! Wife calls back. Her truck covered in ice. Where's ice scraper? Windshield wiper is... Cell phone dies!
Now I have my phone on me every day. Charge it every night. Battery lasts 3 days. Nope. Cell phone will always die when tire is flat.
Wife arrives at gas station with spare tires. With the full-size spare in my trunk I now have 9 tires with me. Jack in hand, trusty VW tool kit at the ready... VW lug wrench doesn't fit after market BBS wheels!
Back home. Change out of work clothes into jeans. Get lug wrench. Call tire place. Road hazard: yes, tire in stock: no, get it tomorrow: possibly. OK, I can deal with that. Phone on charger, back to gas station.
Round 2- Lug wrench: check, Jack: check, Spare tire: check check check check check. Jack up car. Jack crank is of course longer than ground clearance. Bust knuckle. Ow! Still going. Wheel off. Other wheel... What the ?!? How does the OEM wheel not fit?!?
Inspect hub. Inspect wheel. Inspect other wheel. Hmmm... Oh, hub spacer. Hub spacer? Weird after market BBS wheels. Just... take... off... Damn! Hub spacer won't come off.
Contemplate. Car up on flimsy roadside jack in gas station parking lot. Flat tire fits, spare tire doesn't. Could take flat tire to tire shop and have flat replaced, but can't leave car in parking lot on flimsy jack. Could put on spare and drive car to tire shop, but spare tire won't go on. What do I... Wait! Roadside Assistance!!
Call VW roadside assistance. Flat tire. Yes, I have a spare. No, I can't put it on. No, I don't think he could put it on either. Flat bed? One hour? OK. Mmm... gas station dinner.
OK, well, the towing went OK, and hopefully I'll have a new tire tomorrow. Got no car until then. But damn you, Mr. Murphy. Did if have to be today? I'm tired.
03 January 2005
On the New Year
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: hopeful
Well, its that time of year again, when we all make promises to ourself that we have no hope of keeping. So I'm saving myself the guilt this year. I don't resolve to quit anything, start doing anything, or try harder at anything. My only resolution is to do my best have a good year.
I know I don't have the final authority on that one; fate has its way of intervening on such things. But, I will do everything in my power toward such ends. I'm resolved to have a good time whenever possible, and not to put up with as much negative attitude. If as Firecracker said, 2004 was the Year of the Douchebag, 2005 will be the year of telling the douchebags to go to hell.
I've spoken to a lot of people about their thoughts on the New Year, and most have the same feelings: "This year I'm going to be a bit more selfish. No one else is looking out for me but me." I know I have to agree with that, I lost a lot of 2004 looking after and looking out for other people. Not that I'm going to stop caring for and about my loved ones, but many of us went a bit too far last year, and this year we need to put ourselves first.
Current mood: hopeful
Well, its that time of year again, when we all make promises to ourself that we have no hope of keeping. So I'm saving myself the guilt this year. I don't resolve to quit anything, start doing anything, or try harder at anything. My only resolution is to do my best have a good year.
I know I don't have the final authority on that one; fate has its way of intervening on such things. But, I will do everything in my power toward such ends. I'm resolved to have a good time whenever possible, and not to put up with as much negative attitude. If as Firecracker said, 2004 was the Year of the Douchebag, 2005 will be the year of telling the douchebags to go to hell.
I've spoken to a lot of people about their thoughts on the New Year, and most have the same feelings: "This year I'm going to be a bit more selfish. No one else is looking out for me but me." I know I have to agree with that, I lost a lot of 2004 looking after and looking out for other people. Not that I'm going to stop caring for and about my loved ones, but many of us went a bit too far last year, and this year we need to put ourselves first.
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