...here is the opening that Ralph and I did for our movie, Dash Cunning. It's mostly ridiculous, but in a good way.
On a related note, I've been dying to redo the Real World spoof we did in my TV/Film class from senior year as a weekly thing. If anyone would like to be involved, let me know. I'll see what we can do.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
The election.
I saw a clip of McCain in Philly yesterday and he entered the stage to the theme from Rocky. Doesn’t he realize Rocky loses in the end? To the black guy?
Thursday, October 2, 2008
My fucked up dreams.
Well, first I woke up at 4:30 from one where I was alone at the bank. I went in the back to go to the bathroom and when I came out, the sky outside had clouded over darker than I had ever seen and all the shades had been drawn shut and the lights were out. Someone started coming in from outside and I realized that I was wearing only my boxers, so I started to panic. Then, the person walked up to me, and I thought it was a robber or something, but it turned out to be our daily courier. I woke up panting.
Then, I had another one in which I woke up laughing and I thought, “I need to remember that one.” Naturally I forgot.
Then, right before my alarm went off, I had one where I was doing laundry at some girls’ apartment where I had to ask them if I could borrow some detergent. Then I sat down with my laundry and proceeded to pick large pieces of fecal matter out of my clothes before putting them in the wash.
So, yeah, good times.
Then, I had another one in which I woke up laughing and I thought, “I need to remember that one.” Naturally I forgot.
Then, right before my alarm went off, I had one where I was doing laundry at some girls’ apartment where I had to ask them if I could borrow some detergent. Then I sat down with my laundry and proceeded to pick large pieces of fecal matter out of my clothes before putting them in the wash.
So, yeah, good times.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Motor Vehicles.
This morning I went to the lovely DMV to renew my driver's license. Four years ago, I had to scrounge up multiple pieces of documetary identification for the (then) new 6-Point System. Took me a while (my old license was only worth 1-point) but I did it. 6 points for the new digital license. Because that's how much it's worth.
Fast forward four years. On the list of acceptable ID on the 6-point system is your current digital license. Excellent! What's this? It's only worth 4 points? What happened to the 6 points it was worth four years ago? New licenses are still worth 6-points, so why did the old one depreciate in value almost immediately? If you spent all that time looking for 6-points the first time, why do you have to do it again?
Fast forward four years. On the list of acceptable ID on the 6-point system is your current digital license. Excellent! What's this? It's only worth 4 points? What happened to the 6 points it was worth four years ago? New licenses are still worth 6-points, so why did the old one depreciate in value almost immediately? If you spent all that time looking for 6-points the first time, why do you have to do it again?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I'm not dead.
Just wanted you all to know that. My usual angry rants have subsided in recent weeks. Not much to be angry about these days. Got a promotion. Been seeing someone. Life is good. It's totally gonna ruin my fan base, but whatever. I'm happy. Fuck stupid drama.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Pink Floyd's got nothing on my laser show!
Today, Ken and I decided it would be in the best interest of the bank to put more money in the ATM before he leaves on vacation, so that I wouldn't have to do it later on. Each cash drawer in said ATM requires two keys in order to be opened. We usually store these keys on the pull-out tray that holds the receipt printer. When I went to grab the keys today, however, I discovered that the motherboard that runs that printer is exposed underneath, and you get a spectacular light show when you touch it with something metal. Needless to say, I nearly pooped myself.
"Ken," I said. "You think that was bad?"
Ken does the shifty eyes bit. "No, I think we're good."
As a test, we printed the subtotals. Nothing happened. Fuck. I fried it! Just my luck.
Needless to say, I nearly pooped myself. Again. Ken ran a dignostic test on the printer to see if it truly was fried. It printed the test receipts as it should have. Just to be safe, I ran outside with the demo card to make sure it would print receipts for the common folk of Delran. Thankfully it did.
The last thing I need right now is to break the one thing that does the most amount of business at my branch.
"Ken," I said. "You think that was bad?"
Ken does the shifty eyes bit. "No, I think we're good."
As a test, we printed the subtotals. Nothing happened. Fuck. I fried it! Just my luck.
Needless to say, I nearly pooped myself. Again. Ken ran a dignostic test on the printer to see if it truly was fried. It printed the test receipts as it should have. Just to be safe, I ran outside with the demo card to make sure it would print receipts for the common folk of Delran. Thankfully it did.
The last thing I need right now is to break the one thing that does the most amount of business at my branch.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Chickie's and Pete's is the gayest restaurant name ever.
Original post: June 23, 2008
Saturday night I found myself at Chickie's and Pete's (the old Ground Round for those like me) with Vanessa, her roommate, and two other ladies I had never seen before. I was there for about 30 seconds when Jess walked in with her friend, Karen, from school. Karen is TOTALLY hot! Needless to say, I spent the majority of the evening at their table, chatting her up. Apparently, she's an English major, she lives around the corner from me, and she enjoys filthy words (she dropped the "C" word in front of me). All of that, plus the fact that she's a hot blonde, and I was ready to propose right then. Then she mentioned her boyfriend. Mother fucker! I thought. Ain't it always the way?! Once again I was struck down before I even had a chance. The surprising thing is I'm not mad. Usually I'd be fuming about it, but I just let it go for a change.
Uh... That is all.
Saturday night I found myself at Chickie's and Pete's (the old Ground Round for those like me) with Vanessa, her roommate, and two other ladies I had never seen before. I was there for about 30 seconds when Jess walked in with her friend, Karen, from school. Karen is TOTALLY hot! Needless to say, I spent the majority of the evening at their table, chatting her up. Apparently, she's an English major, she lives around the corner from me, and she enjoys filthy words (she dropped the "C" word in front of me). All of that, plus the fact that she's a hot blonde, and I was ready to propose right then. Then she mentioned her boyfriend. Mother fucker! I thought. Ain't it always the way?! Once again I was struck down before I even had a chance. The surprising thing is I'm not mad. Usually I'd be fuming about it, but I just let it go for a change.
Uh... That is all.
Taco Bell.
Original post: March 29, 2008
That's where I went for dinner tonight. As I went to order a Cheesy Beefy Melt, I almost ended up ordering a Jeezy Creezy Melt. I laughed silently to myself the whole ride home.That is all.
That's where I went for dinner tonight. As I went to order a Cheesy Beefy Melt, I almost ended up ordering a Jeezy Creezy Melt. I laughed silently to myself the whole ride home.That is all.
Friday, August 15, 2008
What I think about at lunch- Part 2.
Original post: April 3, 2008
Most of the people I know, when confronted with a situation where they’ve dropped a piece of food on the floor, will undoubtedly throw it out. Unless of course they’re a follower of the 5-second rule. But how about this for a scenario?
What if you manage, in an amazing show of gravity and physics, to drop several pieces of food. Like a plateful of things, for instance, or a bag of chips. Much to your astonishment, one of those chips ends up landing directly on top of another without ever touching the floor. Naturally, you would want to throw out that bottom chip, but what about the other? It’s never been in contact with that filthy floor. Is it safe to put it back in the bag to eat later, or is it guilty by association, having been seen hanging around with that dirty double-crosser? Or should you pick them both up and offer them to that friend nobody seems to like anyway.
For future reference, if I offer you potato chips at any time, be wary of it.
Most of the people I know, when confronted with a situation where they’ve dropped a piece of food on the floor, will undoubtedly throw it out. Unless of course they’re a follower of the 5-second rule. But how about this for a scenario?
What if you manage, in an amazing show of gravity and physics, to drop several pieces of food. Like a plateful of things, for instance, or a bag of chips. Much to your astonishment, one of those chips ends up landing directly on top of another without ever touching the floor. Naturally, you would want to throw out that bottom chip, but what about the other? It’s never been in contact with that filthy floor. Is it safe to put it back in the bag to eat later, or is it guilty by association, having been seen hanging around with that dirty double-crosser? Or should you pick them both up and offer them to that friend nobody seems to like anyway.
For future reference, if I offer you potato chips at any time, be wary of it.
Happy Easter!
Original post: March 23, 2008
The following takes place between 3:30 PM and 4:30 PM.
Here’s a story illustrating why I love my brother and sister-in-law. Since today was Easter, the three of us ended up having dinner with my parents. Typical family stuff; good food, idle chit-chat, etc. Sometime after the first round of stuffing my face, my mother gives us this gem:
Mom: (to Jeff) Did you know that Fritz (their oldest cat) will be 17 this June?
Jeff: No, actually, I didn’t know that...
Dad: You wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him. He still runs around, eats healthy...
Mom: And he still beats off the younger cats when they get too close.
That statement was followed by a minute and a half of uncomfortable silence while the three of us avoided eye contact. I stared at my plate, biting my tongue, so I’m not sure what Jeff and Renae were doing. But, then I heard one of them lose it, and all hell broke loose. We were laughing so hard, we all had to excuse ourselves from the table. I got up to refill my glass, and after I had calmed down, I returned to my seat. My mother was staring at me, so I grinned widely.
Mom: Someone gonna tell me what that was all about?
Me: (awkward pause) I’m not saying it...
Jeff: I just made a funny face, that’s all.
Mom: Oh, OK.
Whew. Crisis averted. Until the next holiday, at least.
The following takes place between 3:30 PM and 4:30 PM.
Here’s a story illustrating why I love my brother and sister-in-law. Since today was Easter, the three of us ended up having dinner with my parents. Typical family stuff; good food, idle chit-chat, etc. Sometime after the first round of stuffing my face, my mother gives us this gem:
Mom: (to Jeff) Did you know that Fritz (their oldest cat) will be 17 this June?
Jeff: No, actually, I didn’t know that...
Dad: You wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him. He still runs around, eats healthy...
Mom: And he still beats off the younger cats when they get too close.
That statement was followed by a minute and a half of uncomfortable silence while the three of us avoided eye contact. I stared at my plate, biting my tongue, so I’m not sure what Jeff and Renae were doing. But, then I heard one of them lose it, and all hell broke loose. We were laughing so hard, we all had to excuse ourselves from the table. I got up to refill my glass, and after I had calmed down, I returned to my seat. My mother was staring at me, so I grinned widely.
Mom: Someone gonna tell me what that was all about?
Me: (awkward pause) I’m not saying it...
Jeff: I just made a funny face, that’s all.
Mom: Oh, OK.
Whew. Crisis averted. Until the next holiday, at least.
Messing with Kate.
Original post: March 9, 2008
Have I mentioned lately how much I enjoy creeping Kate out? This is the conversation we had earlier, via text message:
Kate: You working?
Me: Yeah, why do you ask?
Kate: I thought I heard movement downstairs or on the stairs. Probably the neighbors. Don't put any scary thoughts in my head - I'm here alone.
Shouldn't she know not to lead me on like that?
Me: I'll refrain, then. Good luck!
Kate: Good luck...?
Me: ...?
Kate: ?
Me: Good luck!
Kate: What? Why do I need luck?
Me: You'll find out.
Kate: Fuck you.
Me: Haha. J/K You'll be fine if you don't make any sudden movements.
Kate: Again, fuck you. I'm leaving this house.
Me: It's fine. Don't be so paranoid. Nothing happens in the middle of the day, anyway.
Kate: Too late. I'm already at the 7-11.
Me: Fine.
The end.
Have I mentioned lately how much I enjoy creeping Kate out? This is the conversation we had earlier, via text message:
Kate: You working?
Me: Yeah, why do you ask?
Kate: I thought I heard movement downstairs or on the stairs. Probably the neighbors. Don't put any scary thoughts in my head - I'm here alone.
Shouldn't she know not to lead me on like that?
Me: I'll refrain, then. Good luck!
Kate: Good luck...?
Me: ...?
Kate: ?
Me: Good luck!
Kate: What? Why do I need luck?
Me: You'll find out.
Kate: Fuck you.
Me: Haha. J/K You'll be fine if you don't make any sudden movements.
Kate: Again, fuck you. I'm leaving this house.
Me: It's fine. Don't be so paranoid. Nothing happens in the middle of the day, anyway.
Kate: Too late. I'm already at the 7-11.
Me: Fine.
The end.
Hear no evil?
Original post: February 27, 2008
If any of you happened to watch the Academy Awards on Sunday night, you might've gotten the first glimpse of the list of celebrities that are scheduled to appear on the upcoming season of Dancing with the Stars. During one of the commercial breaks, they showed us such dancing hopefuls as Adam Corrolla, Shannon Elizabeth, and Marlee Matlin.
Wait a second. Marlee Matlin?! Why the fuck is she on there? She's deaf. She can't hear the music. How can someone possibly move their body in time to something they can't hear? Unless, they treat her like a snake, and turn the bass way up so she can feel the beat in the vibrations on the floor.
Do the producers of this show have an addendum to the contract that says they need someone with a handicap in each season, as part of some equal opportunity thing? We all remember when they had Heather Mills-McCartney and her peg-leg. I'll give her props (pun intended) though. In all fairness, she could fucking dance, stump and all. But at least she could hear the Goddamn music.
I wish I was in the room when they were thinking this one out.
If any of you happened to watch the Academy Awards on Sunday night, you might've gotten the first glimpse of the list of celebrities that are scheduled to appear on the upcoming season of Dancing with the Stars. During one of the commercial breaks, they showed us such dancing hopefuls as Adam Corrolla, Shannon Elizabeth, and Marlee Matlin.
Wait a second. Marlee Matlin?! Why the fuck is she on there? She's deaf. She can't hear the music. How can someone possibly move their body in time to something they can't hear? Unless, they treat her like a snake, and turn the bass way up so she can feel the beat in the vibrations on the floor.
Do the producers of this show have an addendum to the contract that says they need someone with a handicap in each season, as part of some equal opportunity thing? We all remember when they had Heather Mills-McCartney and her peg-leg. I'll give her props (pun intended) though. In all fairness, she could fucking dance, stump and all. But at least she could hear the Goddamn music.
I wish I was in the room when they were thinking this one out.
Fine lines.
Original post: February 5, 2008
.........................................................................................................................Oh, I seem to have wandered a bit off-topic at the end there. Sorry. I must be PMS-ing or something.
Anyway, nobody likes me for who I am. At least, not those who aren't already my friends. Now I think I see why I have such problems meeting women, or even making new friends. I do sound like a pretentious prick sometimes, but that's just to cover up my insecurities inside. I love my friends to death, but if I only talk to them, I'm never going to meet anyone new. Unfortunately, I just don't see how being my normal self is going to impress anyone into wanting to be my friend, let alone a love interest. I'm a nice, funny, handsome guy. Who wants that? It's boring. Well, that's only when I'm trying to make an impression. Otherwise, I'm sarcastic and self-deprivating. There's an awesome combination! No wonder nobody likes me.
Post-script: That rant wasn't about anyone in real life. I think I made her up, so nobody get mad at me, okay?
Last night, I escorted Kate out to the movies to see Juno and while on the way there I brought up the fact that I would not be able to buy a guitar with my tax refund as orginally planned, due to the fact that my tires keep deflating on me, and I shall have to purchase new ones. Safety first, I guess. I had told her that I was going to teach myself, and hope that it would help me get women, and she said it probably would.
After I told her I couldn't become a guitar god quite yet, it spurred another discussion. Kate said that she was talking with someone (her mom, I think. She'll have to correct me if I'm wrong) about what makes someone sexy. The main thing that they came up with is confidence.
Okay, I get that, but how much confidence? There's a very fine line between not confident enough ("Hi, I'm too shy to really talk to you, so I'm gonna sit in the corner and pretend like I'm not really here.") and too confident ("Hey, gorgeous. My penis is massive. Wanna touch it?") It would seem that girls want something that's right in between, and it's very difficult to pull that off.
So, I ask Kate, "Okay, then how does one show confidence in oneself and one's abilities without coming off like an egotistical asshole? You gotta be able to toot your own proverbial horn every once in a while, but if you do, you sound like you think you're better than everyone else."
That was followed by a long silence. Kate thought hard about it, and said, "Well, being passionate about something. Like, having strong opinions on things works."
Ah, but there's another snag. There is also a fine line between passion and obsession. You either have strong feelings for something or you have feelings that are too strong for something.
And I think that is another crux in my troubles. I don't have strong opinions about anything. I'm the type of person that wants to avoid confrontation at any cost. And yes, I think that includes talking to women as well. It also stems from that, too. Ever since I got out of high school, I haven't found anyone that likes me for the person I am. Why? Because I don't show enough confidence. But why do I not have enough confidence? Because I keep getting burned all the time. But, I keep getting burned because of the lack of confidence. It's a vicious Goddamn circle, and it's really hard to break from it.
Lately, I've even tried just being myself around people and not trying to impress them. People have told me that works, so I'll give it a shot. The problem with that is, if I act like I normally do, how are girls supposed to know I'm interested in them? I don't talk unless I have something funny to say, or if someone asks me a direct question. None of that correlates into the phrase, "Hey, I like you." If I'm not showing interest in someone, why should they show any interest back? Not that they do in any case. In any normal situation, I come across as hating everyone (which isn't true, really) and that's a bad image if you're trying to get dates.
Nobody's interested in me, and do you know why? Because they're all taken. That's right, I've only met about five single females in the past six and a half years. That's only an estimation, but it's probably close to correct. And out of those five single females, you know how many showed interest in me, even when I was trying? Zero. Zilch. Zippo. None. Nil. Nada. I mean, seriously, who would want to date a bank teller who's into sci-fi and can't get laid to save his life? He sounds like a real catch! It's too bad that he'd be the best person to spend the rest of your life with, but you're not gonna take the time to find that out. You're just gonna sit on your throne, high above everyone else, looking down your nose at me, like you're better than I am. You know something, princess? You're not. Everyone only thinks so highly of you because you put out. That's right. I said it. Your real name is Skanky McWhorebag. You may make more money than I do and have more friends, but I've got moral standards!
..........................
Anyway, nobody likes me for who I am. At least, not those who aren't already my friends. Now I think I see why I have such problems meeting women, or even making new friends. I do sound like a pretentious prick sometimes, but that's just to cover up my insecurities inside. I love my friends to death, but if I only talk to them, I'm never going to meet anyone new. Unfortunately, I just don't see how being my normal self is going to impress anyone into wanting to be my friend, let alone a love interest. I'm a nice, funny, handsome guy. Who wants that? It's boring. Well, that's only when I'm trying to make an impression. Otherwise, I'm sarcastic and self-deprivating. There's an awesome combination! No wonder nobody likes me.
Post-script: That rant wasn't about anyone in real life. I think I made her up, so nobody get mad at me, okay?
First impressions.
Original post: January 17, 2008
Okay, I should've written this earlier in the week when it was fresher in my mind, but I couldn't find the time (surprisingly).
Two Sundays ago, I got the chance to work with Jess from Sterling's Medford branch. It was fun. She's nice, and we ended up talking most of the time we were there. When we left that afternoon, I told her it was nice working with her, and I hoped we did it again sometime. Nothing wrong with that, right?
Well, this past Friday, Ken had to go to Medford for the day, and when he came back on Monday, he asked me how I liked working with her.
"She's cool. Except when she told me about her sudden food poisoning that she got the night before... Why?"
"Nothing. It's just, I asked how she liked working with you, and she goes, 'It was good...' Only with that inflection at the end, like there was something off."
"...What?"
"She was a little weirded out with what you said when you were leaving."
"...What?"
"It's okay. I smoothed it over. I said to her, 'Look, you don't know what's going on. We've worked the last two months with Linda from that other branch, and we're happy to be working with ANYBODY else...' She felt better after that."
"...She thinks I'm creepy?"
"No..."
"You just said it. I creeped her out by saying that I'd like to work with her again."
"Dude, I dunno... She did think you were cute, though."
As if that made me feel better. Here I was, thinking that I spent an entire shift with someone I hadn't met before and actually DIDN'T make an ass out of myself for a change, only to find out I actually did. Unknowingly. But just at the end. The rest of the day was fine. It seems like no matter what I do, in the end, I'm still hopeless.
"Okay... Whatever. She's got a boyfriend, anyway."
"No, she doesn't."
"She mentioned him several times..."
"Yeah, well... She kinda is and isn't. She was telling me about it. She says that they broke up, but she stupidly mentioned that they should still 'be friends.' So now, she's kinda stuck in dating limbo."
"Uh-huh..."
Now that I think back on it, mentioning him by using the title boyfriend was probably some subconscious way of getting me to stop flirting, which I will concede I was doing. I flirt with everybody, though. Especially the cute ones.
"Anyway, I see you're working with her again next month..."
Great... Now I'm gonna spend an entire Sunday shift in silence because I'll be self-conscious about everything I do. Ugh...
Okay, I should've written this earlier in the week when it was fresher in my mind, but I couldn't find the time (surprisingly).
Two Sundays ago, I got the chance to work with Jess from Sterling's Medford branch. It was fun. She's nice, and we ended up talking most of the time we were there. When we left that afternoon, I told her it was nice working with her, and I hoped we did it again sometime. Nothing wrong with that, right?
Well, this past Friday, Ken had to go to Medford for the day, and when he came back on Monday, he asked me how I liked working with her.
"She's cool. Except when she told me about her sudden food poisoning that she got the night before... Why?"
"Nothing. It's just, I asked how she liked working with you, and she goes, 'It was good...' Only with that inflection at the end, like there was something off."
"...What?"
"She was a little weirded out with what you said when you were leaving."
"...What?"
"It's okay. I smoothed it over. I said to her, 'Look, you don't know what's going on. We've worked the last two months with Linda from that other branch, and we're happy to be working with ANYBODY else...' She felt better after that."
"...She thinks I'm creepy?"
"No..."
"You just said it. I creeped her out by saying that I'd like to work with her again."
"Dude, I dunno... She did think you were cute, though."
As if that made me feel better. Here I was, thinking that I spent an entire shift with someone I hadn't met before and actually DIDN'T make an ass out of myself for a change, only to find out I actually did. Unknowingly. But just at the end. The rest of the day was fine. It seems like no matter what I do, in the end, I'm still hopeless.
"Okay... Whatever. She's got a boyfriend, anyway."
"No, she doesn't."
"She mentioned him several times..."
"Yeah, well... She kinda is and isn't. She was telling me about it. She says that they broke up, but she stupidly mentioned that they should still 'be friends.' So now, she's kinda stuck in dating limbo."
"Uh-huh..."
Now that I think back on it, mentioning him by using the title boyfriend was probably some subconscious way of getting me to stop flirting, which I will concede I was doing. I flirt with everybody, though. Especially the cute ones.
"Anyway, I see you're working with her again next month..."
Great... Now I'm gonna spend an entire Sunday shift in silence because I'll be self-conscious about everything I do. Ugh...
Why I suddenly like my cable box.
Original post: January 12, 2008
This morning, I slept until 10:00, then I planned on getting up to watch Transformers on Cartoon Network. (I know, I'm a dork, but that's not the point!) Anyway, I went downstairs to watch last week's episode that I DVR'ed and hadn't gotten around to watching. When I opened the menu of recorded programs, the entire first page was filled with all the softcore porn that was on both HBO and Cinemax last night. Righteous! I figured that someone was over last night and was playing some kind of prank, so I paid it no mind. Either that, or Zach and Dan have a HUGE problem... So, I watched my show, watched this week's that was on immediately after, then got a shower and ran some errands. When I got back, Dan was home, so I asked if someone was messing with us. "No, something's wrong with that cable box," he tells me. "It's always on Cinemax when I wake up in the morning, and we don't even get Cinemax." That's true. We don't. So, why is it suddenly just recording all these dirty things without our consent and putting on channels that we don't pay for and can't see? Who cares! It's awesome!
This morning, I slept until 10:00, then I planned on getting up to watch Transformers on Cartoon Network. (I know, I'm a dork, but that's not the point!) Anyway, I went downstairs to watch last week's episode that I DVR'ed and hadn't gotten around to watching. When I opened the menu of recorded programs, the entire first page was filled with all the softcore porn that was on both HBO and Cinemax last night. Righteous! I figured that someone was over last night and was playing some kind of prank, so I paid it no mind. Either that, or Zach and Dan have a HUGE problem... So, I watched my show, watched this week's that was on immediately after, then got a shower and ran some errands. When I got back, Dan was home, so I asked if someone was messing with us. "No, something's wrong with that cable box," he tells me. "It's always on Cinemax when I wake up in the morning, and we don't even get Cinemax." That's true. We don't. So, why is it suddenly just recording all these dirty things without our consent and putting on channels that we don't pay for and can't see? Who cares! It's awesome!
Another rant.
Original post: January 9, 2008
Why do girls enjoy making me feel like a complete failure at everything? I was talking to my friend Steph online (she's not the one that makes me feel bad) and she asked me if I was seeing anyone.
"No," I replied.
"Any prospects?" she asks.
"No," I responded.
"Nobody wants anything to do with me, and that's kinda hard on the old ego, you know?"
"I'm sure you're exaggerating..."
"You think?"
"You have to be..."
"I doubt it. I try CONSTANTLY. To no avail."
"Well, I think that people just don't give you enough of a chance. I think that you are great."
"Right, 'cause you took the time to get to know me. Nobody else wants to do that these days."
And then, it spiraled down into the nine circles of my own private hell. I informed her of all the bad luck I've had on the dating scene, which she responded to with the age-old "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'd date you if I was living there and I wasn't married."
Ain't that the story of my life? I hear that all the time... "I like you, I really do, but there's someone else I like (a) just a little bit more, or (b) less, but I don't want to ruin something that might not be good for me in the long run."
I told her that it's always one of two things:
1) They like me, but they're seeing someone else. (See above.)
Or 2) They like me, but I think they're actually some kind of giant slug in disguise. (and not a very good disguise, at that.)
Okay, I didn't say that, but it's true! I also mentioned the one time I found someone who actually WAS single and was flirting with me at a party once, then when I asked her out, she only said, "Thanks, but no."
Ouch, my pride... Apparently, she didn't even want to have a free meal around me, she couldn't stand me that much. "What did I do wrong that time?" I asked Steph.
"Nothing," she says.
EXACTLY! Why is it that I know that I'm funny, smart, attractive (mildly), charming, and yet women like to shun me like I'm some kind of a leper, highly contagious and yearning to pass it on to a new victim. I'm doing everything right, but nobody wants to see that. If it ain't broke, we can't fix it, I suppose they're thinking. I'm too perfect. That's it! I think we've solved it! Well, I guess I can stop worrying. I can live with a life of celibacy if I'm perfect in every way imaginable.
Why do girls enjoy making me feel like a complete failure at everything? I was talking to my friend Steph online (she's not the one that makes me feel bad) and she asked me if I was seeing anyone.
"No," I replied.
"Any prospects?" she asks.
"No," I responded.
"Nobody wants anything to do with me, and that's kinda hard on the old ego, you know?"
"I'm sure you're exaggerating..."
"You think?"
"You have to be..."
"I doubt it. I try CONSTANTLY. To no avail."
"Well, I think that people just don't give you enough of a chance. I think that you are great."
"Right, 'cause you took the time to get to know me. Nobody else wants to do that these days."
And then, it spiraled down into the nine circles of my own private hell. I informed her of all the bad luck I've had on the dating scene, which she responded to with the age-old "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'd date you if I was living there and I wasn't married."
Ain't that the story of my life? I hear that all the time... "I like you, I really do, but there's someone else I like (a) just a little bit more, or (b) less, but I don't want to ruin something that might not be good for me in the long run."
I told her that it's always one of two things:
1) They like me, but they're seeing someone else. (See above.)
Or 2) They like me, but I think they're actually some kind of giant slug in disguise. (and not a very good disguise, at that.)
Okay, I didn't say that, but it's true! I also mentioned the one time I found someone who actually WAS single and was flirting with me at a party once, then when I asked her out, she only said, "Thanks, but no."
Ouch, my pride... Apparently, she didn't even want to have a free meal around me, she couldn't stand me that much. "What did I do wrong that time?" I asked Steph.
"Nothing," she says.
EXACTLY! Why is it that I know that I'm funny, smart, attractive (mildly), charming, and yet women like to shun me like I'm some kind of a leper, highly contagious and yearning to pass it on to a new victim. I'm doing everything right, but nobody wants to see that. If it ain't broke, we can't fix it, I suppose they're thinking. I'm too perfect. That's it! I think we've solved it! Well, I guess I can stop worrying. I can live with a life of celibacy if I'm perfect in every way imaginable.
An afternoon at the movies.
Original post: December 24, 2007
Apparently, this Christmas season is the time for me to be disappointed by any movie I see in the theater. Chris and I went to see The Golden Compass today, and it was no exception. Be warned: This blog contains possible spoilers, so if you still insist on seeing this horrendous piece of garbage after what I have to say, shy away. Everyone else, read on.
I went into this film with a clear conscience: I haven't read the book. I was completely unbiased in my viewing of the movie. Even if I had, I'd still think this was a waste of two hours.
For starters, if you can find a plot somewhere in this film, please let me know. I found it to be quite lacking in that department. On top of that, there was no motivation for any of the characters to do anything that was happening. On top of that, there were no transitions between scenes.
With that said, let me elaborate. Even after discussing with Chris, we couldn't come up with a suitable answer to the question, "What is going on here?" Everything seemed very rushed, and they tried to cram as much as possible into it. Why? We don't know. What we do know is that it was very hard to follow.
And that leads to the next point. It started off with the girl's uncle getting a grant to start an expedition in Iceland in order to find... I'm not sure what. So, why's he going? Never explained. We'll have to wait for the sequels, I guess. So, after that, this crazy bitch named Mrs. Coulter shows up and decides that she's going to take the girl to Iceland herself. Why would she do such a thing? It turns out she's the girl's mother, but that really doesn't seem to make any difference to the story. And her "uncle" out on the expedition is really her father. So what? It's got nothing to do with anything. The heads at the college she lives at give her an althiometer, which has the ability to "tell the truth." Dumbest idea ever. After leaving England, the girl finds out that Mrs. Coulter is actually involved somehow with the Gobblers. Who are they? Good question. I'm sure that the reveal of Mrs. Coulter's involvement at that point would have been much more poignant if they had explained what they were, what they were doing, etc. Turns out they're kidnapping children and cutting out their souls, which are manifested outside the body in the form of an animal. After she finds that out, she ends up hooking up with the nomad group called the Gyptians. Seems they've been watching her on the order of her "uncle" but they never say why. While at a pit stop, the althiometer tells her she's going to find someone to help her at the town she's in. Suddenly, a cowboy pilot (played typecastedly by Sam Elliot) walks up and introduces himself. Why? Possible pedophile is my opinion. He then tells her that she should have an armored bear (wtf?!?!) with her if she's going somewhere dangerous. Just so happens there's one in town, but he's a drunk mess. (Confused yet?) The townspeople stole his armor, so he's basically stuck there. She uses the compass to find out where the armor is, and in return for that info, the polar bear is indebted to her. They continue their trek North, and she sees a lakehouse in the compass. She takes the bear to save her friend at the house and returns him to his Gyptian family. Then, for no apparent reason, she shows up by herself at the land of the icebears. While there, she manages to talk the king into fighting her bear friend, who happens to be the true heir to the throne, to the death. When he shows up, she cries and apologizes because there's no possible way for him to win. Why is she so sad for him? There was absolutely no character development between them. She met him in the town, got his armor, rode him to save her friend, then back again. They didn't do anything else. Why is she so attached all of a sudden?! And why is she going off on her own and picking fights with strange polar bears? Stupid little bitch. Anyway, the bears fight, and he ends up ripping the traitor's juggular out (which was pretty cool, I'll admit). Then she finds where they're hiding the kids, finds out Mrs. Coulter's her mother and Asriel is her father, then she runs away and rescues the kids. Then, there's the big fight between the Gyptians, with Sam Elliot and the bear, and the Russian army (?) whose daemons (souls) are all wolves (?!). They mop the floor with 'em with the help of the "witches" that show up out of nowhere and have no apparent motivation to do anything (they're a bit like the U.S. Calvary, coming in right at the end of the picture...), then they fly off in Sam Elliot's ship to give the compass to her "uncle", who has made a deal with the people who captured him (?!?) to do something for them. And they ended it there. Cliffhanger for a sequel that, I hope, won't get made. Now are you confused? I was in the first twenty minutes.
And after all that, they had no reason to go anywhere. They were at the college, then they went to Iceland for no reason, then they picked up a pedophile cowboy and a polar bear on a whim, then they picked a fight for no reason whatsoever, saved a bunch of kids, then flew off into the sunset, all with no explanation for doing it. "Hey, I'm feel like taking this girl who's secretly my daughter to the middle of nowhere with me, but you don't need to know why." What the fuck was I watching?
I thought it might be interesting to see what was getting the Catholics into such an uproar over it, but I didn't see much, if anything. Then again, I'm not much of a Catholic, so it'd be lost on me anyway.
I want my money back.
Apparently, this Christmas season is the time for me to be disappointed by any movie I see in the theater. Chris and I went to see The Golden Compass today, and it was no exception. Be warned: This blog contains possible spoilers, so if you still insist on seeing this horrendous piece of garbage after what I have to say, shy away. Everyone else, read on.
I went into this film with a clear conscience: I haven't read the book. I was completely unbiased in my viewing of the movie. Even if I had, I'd still think this was a waste of two hours.
For starters, if you can find a plot somewhere in this film, please let me know. I found it to be quite lacking in that department. On top of that, there was no motivation for any of the characters to do anything that was happening. On top of that, there were no transitions between scenes.
With that said, let me elaborate. Even after discussing with Chris, we couldn't come up with a suitable answer to the question, "What is going on here?" Everything seemed very rushed, and they tried to cram as much as possible into it. Why? We don't know. What we do know is that it was very hard to follow.
And that leads to the next point. It started off with the girl's uncle getting a grant to start an expedition in Iceland in order to find... I'm not sure what. So, why's he going? Never explained. We'll have to wait for the sequels, I guess. So, after that, this crazy bitch named Mrs. Coulter shows up and decides that she's going to take the girl to Iceland herself. Why would she do such a thing? It turns out she's the girl's mother, but that really doesn't seem to make any difference to the story. And her "uncle" out on the expedition is really her father. So what? It's got nothing to do with anything. The heads at the college she lives at give her an althiometer, which has the ability to "tell the truth." Dumbest idea ever. After leaving England, the girl finds out that Mrs. Coulter is actually involved somehow with the Gobblers. Who are they? Good question. I'm sure that the reveal of Mrs. Coulter's involvement at that point would have been much more poignant if they had explained what they were, what they were doing, etc. Turns out they're kidnapping children and cutting out their souls, which are manifested outside the body in the form of an animal. After she finds that out, she ends up hooking up with the nomad group called the Gyptians. Seems they've been watching her on the order of her "uncle" but they never say why. While at a pit stop, the althiometer tells her she's going to find someone to help her at the town she's in. Suddenly, a cowboy pilot (played typecastedly by Sam Elliot) walks up and introduces himself. Why? Possible pedophile is my opinion. He then tells her that she should have an armored bear (wtf?!?!) with her if she's going somewhere dangerous. Just so happens there's one in town, but he's a drunk mess. (Confused yet?) The townspeople stole his armor, so he's basically stuck there. She uses the compass to find out where the armor is, and in return for that info, the polar bear is indebted to her. They continue their trek North, and she sees a lakehouse in the compass. She takes the bear to save her friend at the house and returns him to his Gyptian family. Then, for no apparent reason, she shows up by herself at the land of the icebears. While there, she manages to talk the king into fighting her bear friend, who happens to be the true heir to the throne, to the death. When he shows up, she cries and apologizes because there's no possible way for him to win. Why is she so sad for him? There was absolutely no character development between them. She met him in the town, got his armor, rode him to save her friend, then back again. They didn't do anything else. Why is she so attached all of a sudden?! And why is she going off on her own and picking fights with strange polar bears? Stupid little bitch. Anyway, the bears fight, and he ends up ripping the traitor's juggular out (which was pretty cool, I'll admit). Then she finds where they're hiding the kids, finds out Mrs. Coulter's her mother and Asriel is her father, then she runs away and rescues the kids. Then, there's the big fight between the Gyptians, with Sam Elliot and the bear, and the Russian army (?) whose daemons (souls) are all wolves (?!). They mop the floor with 'em with the help of the "witches" that show up out of nowhere and have no apparent motivation to do anything (they're a bit like the U.S. Calvary, coming in right at the end of the picture...), then they fly off in Sam Elliot's ship to give the compass to her "uncle", who has made a deal with the people who captured him (?!?) to do something for them. And they ended it there. Cliffhanger for a sequel that, I hope, won't get made. Now are you confused? I was in the first twenty minutes.
And after all that, they had no reason to go anywhere. They were at the college, then they went to Iceland for no reason, then they picked up a pedophile cowboy and a polar bear on a whim, then they picked a fight for no reason whatsoever, saved a bunch of kids, then flew off into the sunset, all with no explanation for doing it. "Hey, I'm feel like taking this girl who's secretly my daughter to the middle of nowhere with me, but you don't need to know why." What the fuck was I watching?
I thought it might be interesting to see what was getting the Catholics into such an uproar over it, but I didn't see much, if anything. Then again, I'm not much of a Catholic, so it'd be lost on me anyway.
I want my money back.
A night at the movies.
Original post: December 22, 2007
A few weeks ago I had read the book I Am Legend, so needless to say, I was uber-psyched to see the movie once it came out. Chris and I decided tonight would be the night to check it out.
I don't know how I do it, but every time I go the theater, I manage to invite the most irritating person there to come sit next to me. It's either something in my mannerisms or it's just the pheromones I give off, but it's destined to happen.
So, both seats are open on either side of Chris and myself as the previews are starting. Naturally, this woman comes up to the seat next to the person who doesn't like sitting between people and sits her annoying ass down. I must've been asking for it.
Then the movie started. It wasn't as great as I was expecting. Basically, they took the story from the book, read it, rearranged some things, shit on it, then ultimately threw it all out the window and started from scratch. A lot of the parts that I found intriguing about the book were nowhere to be seen on film.
Even with all that said, I probably would've enjoyed it more had I not been sitting next to Ms. Typical Stereotype. Here's my impression of her throughout the whole movie:
Sad part: "Awww..." Repeat every five seconds.
Suspenseful part: "Oooohhh..." as she cringed up next to her boyfriend. Repeat every five seconds.
Will Smith gets a leg wound: "Oh, shit!" Repeat every five seconds.
Then I socked her in the cooch. Seriously, nothing shuts up stupid bitches better than a good beaver-punch. I felt a lot better afterwards.
A few weeks ago I had read the book I Am Legend, so needless to say, I was uber-psyched to see the movie once it came out. Chris and I decided tonight would be the night to check it out.
I don't know how I do it, but every time I go the theater, I manage to invite the most irritating person there to come sit next to me. It's either something in my mannerisms or it's just the pheromones I give off, but it's destined to happen.
So, both seats are open on either side of Chris and myself as the previews are starting. Naturally, this woman comes up to the seat next to the person who doesn't like sitting between people and sits her annoying ass down. I must've been asking for it.
Then the movie started. It wasn't as great as I was expecting. Basically, they took the story from the book, read it, rearranged some things, shit on it, then ultimately threw it all out the window and started from scratch. A lot of the parts that I found intriguing about the book were nowhere to be seen on film.
Even with all that said, I probably would've enjoyed it more had I not been sitting next to Ms. Typical Stereotype. Here's my impression of her throughout the whole movie:
Sad part: "Awww..." Repeat every five seconds.
Suspenseful part: "Oooohhh..." as she cringed up next to her boyfriend. Repeat every five seconds.
Will Smith gets a leg wound: "Oh, shit!" Repeat every five seconds.
Then I socked her in the cooch. Seriously, nothing shuts up stupid bitches better than a good beaver-punch. I felt a lot better afterwards.
What I've resorted to.
Original post: December 18, 2007
I've gotten to the point of desperation that makes me actually try the online dating sites. But, I haven't gotten to the point that I'll pay for it, though. Free dating websites are just one more place for me to put myself out there and have pretty much everyone make me feel like a loser.
For example: I have a profile on one site that is primarily for stupid quizzes that waste your time during the humdrum workday. A few weeks back, I saw someone's profile, and she seemed pretty interesting, so I ventured on a limb to send her a message. Surprise! (not sarcasm) She wrote me back. (told ya!) We wrote back and forth for two weeks, discussing common interests. Then, one day last week, she stopped. Didn't say anything about it, just up and ignored me. Fine, I can deal with that.
For another example: Same site, different day. I saw this other chick who proclaimed herself to be a huge nerd. She cited Firefly and Battlestar Galactica in her "likes." Jackpot! I thought. I sent out a message post-haste, introducing myself and my love of science fiction. Good common ground to start on. What do I get in return? Nothing. She looked at my page and must've realized she didn't want to associate at all with someone who is kind, has his own place and a job, enjoys some of the same things as her, etc., because everyone knows that all the guys that are on that site are chronically-lying sociopaths who are just looking for their next victim. Whatever. Eff her.
That's the last time I take advice about internet-dating. I don't need this shit.
I've gotten to the point of desperation that makes me actually try the online dating sites. But, I haven't gotten to the point that I'll pay for it, though. Free dating websites are just one more place for me to put myself out there and have pretty much everyone make me feel like a loser.
For example: I have a profile on one site that is primarily for stupid quizzes that waste your time during the humdrum workday. A few weeks back, I saw someone's profile, and she seemed pretty interesting, so I ventured on a limb to send her a message. Surprise! (not sarcasm) She wrote me back. (told ya!) We wrote back and forth for two weeks, discussing common interests. Then, one day last week, she stopped. Didn't say anything about it, just up and ignored me. Fine, I can deal with that.
For another example: Same site, different day. I saw this other chick who proclaimed herself to be a huge nerd. She cited Firefly and Battlestar Galactica in her "likes." Jackpot! I thought. I sent out a message post-haste, introducing myself and my love of science fiction. Good common ground to start on. What do I get in return? Nothing. She looked at my page and must've realized she didn't want to associate at all with someone who is kind, has his own place and a job, enjoys some of the same things as her, etc., because everyone knows that all the guys that are on that site are chronically-lying sociopaths who are just looking for their next victim. Whatever. Eff her.
That's the last time I take advice about internet-dating. I don't need this shit.
What I think about at lunch.
Original post: December 18, 2007
Did you ever notice how cherries are only wild when you use 'em to flavor other things? When you buy a jar of cherries at the store, they're just cherries. Tame cherries, at that. Where are they getting all these wild cherries from, anyway? Is there a place that just lets their un-neutered cherries run around before giving them away to add flavor to other things? 'Cause that's what they must be: Un-neutered. House animals are usually feral before you get 'em fixed, so that must also translate into the fruit world.
And another thing: It's only cherries. Have you ever seen something that's wild orange flavored, or even wild kiwi flavored? Why are all the other fruits so docile? Did cherry's parents beat them at a young age, and it's caused them to revert back to a primitive state that makes them delicious in soft drinks?
I should go back to work...
Did you ever notice how cherries are only wild when you use 'em to flavor other things? When you buy a jar of cherries at the store, they're just cherries. Tame cherries, at that. Where are they getting all these wild cherries from, anyway? Is there a place that just lets their un-neutered cherries run around before giving them away to add flavor to other things? 'Cause that's what they must be: Un-neutered. House animals are usually feral before you get 'em fixed, so that must also translate into the fruit world.
And another thing: It's only cherries. Have you ever seen something that's wild orange flavored, or even wild kiwi flavored? Why are all the other fruits so docile? Did cherry's parents beat them at a young age, and it's caused them to revert back to a primitive state that makes them delicious in soft drinks?
I should go back to work...
An interesting point.
Original post: December 15, 2007
This is a small excerpt from the conversation I was having with Chris last night:
"Chris Ferenzi" (8:33:11 PM): Why do we have no love lives?
"Chris Ferenzi" (8:33:29 PM): Well, I know why you don't. You're simply too awesome for every woman ever.
"Chris Ferenzi" (8:33:34 PM): FACT.
Truer words were never spoken. The end.
This is a small excerpt from the conversation I was having with Chris last night:
"Chris Ferenzi" (8:33:11 PM): Why do we have no love lives?
"Chris Ferenzi" (8:33:29 PM): Well, I know why you don't. You're simply too awesome for every woman ever.
"Chris Ferenzi" (8:33:34 PM): FACT.
Truer words were never spoken. The end.
So, which one of us is the asshole again...?
Original post: November 17, 2007
This morning, I had to trek up to Bordentown to get my final paycheck from Boyd's. When I opened it, they had included a flier about the annual pollyana for Christmas. What the hell am I going to need this for? I'm out. They know that. They're wasting paper. So I went to make a comment about it to Mark, the pharmacist.
"Why would they put this in my last paycheck?"
"You're quitting?"
"...Yeah. I haven't been here all week. Didn't you notice?"
"I did, but I didn't know you'd quit. How come?"
"'Cause Toni left."
"So what, you're infatuated with her?"
"No, but I don't want to have to work for them, you know?"
"Kinda childish, ain't it?"
I paused. Then, he repeated himself. "Well, I guess. I wouldn't have come back at all if I didn't need the money."
I didn't feel like I needed to explain myself further. I went into this job with the attitude that, if I didn't like what was happening, I was going to leave. Also, I came back because Toni asked me to. Yes, she's the only one there I would want to work for. So, when she said she was leaving, I put in my two weeks. The Boyds were replacing her with their kids, Jimmy and Lardner. Seriously, would you want to take orders from a guy who goes by Lardner? Fine, that may be your name, and you don't want to go by your middle name like your dad, but I'd make up a name if I were you. You might as well legally change your name to Dickhead and be done with it.
I don't know. Was it childish, or was I just being smart?
This morning, I had to trek up to Bordentown to get my final paycheck from Boyd's. When I opened it, they had included a flier about the annual pollyana for Christmas. What the hell am I going to need this for? I'm out. They know that. They're wasting paper. So I went to make a comment about it to Mark, the pharmacist.
"Why would they put this in my last paycheck?"
"You're quitting?"
"...Yeah. I haven't been here all week. Didn't you notice?"
"I did, but I didn't know you'd quit. How come?"
"'Cause Toni left."
"So what, you're infatuated with her?"
"No, but I don't want to have to work for them, you know?"
"Kinda childish, ain't it?"
I paused. Then, he repeated himself. "Well, I guess. I wouldn't have come back at all if I didn't need the money."
I didn't feel like I needed to explain myself further. I went into this job with the attitude that, if I didn't like what was happening, I was going to leave. Also, I came back because Toni asked me to. Yes, she's the only one there I would want to work for. So, when she said she was leaving, I put in my two weeks. The Boyds were replacing her with their kids, Jimmy and Lardner. Seriously, would you want to take orders from a guy who goes by Lardner? Fine, that may be your name, and you don't want to go by your middle name like your dad, but I'd make up a name if I were you. You might as well legally change your name to Dickhead and be done with it.
I don't know. Was it childish, or was I just being smart?
A rambling, incoherent response.
Original post: November 14, 2007
I've had two different people in the past two days ask me for an update about the girl in my blog, so I guess I'll have to write one.
After the events that took place in my last entry, I had invited her to the Halloween bash we had at my house (an excellent time, by the way. If you weren't there, you should've been, loser). She stated that it was her boyfriend's birthday that weekend, so she'd have to be with him. However, he only gets off from work one day a week. If it was Friday, she was going to skip the concert (the one we went to buy tickets for that day, but she decided not to until she knew about this) and hang out with him, then come to the bash on Saturday. But, if he was off Saturday, she'd go to the concert and hang out with him Saturday. Then, she made it sound as if she was going to show up anyway. Asking what time it started, stringing me along. I didn't get my hopes up, though. If she came by, great! If not, no big deal. She didn't show, of course.
Days passed and I didn't hear from her or try to contact her. I really didn't feel like it. I still don't, actually. The only thing I remember asking her was where a good place to get a tattoo is, but I really don't know if that was during the week of the party or after.
Since I've had people questioning me about it, I've gotten to thinking. I'm pretty sure I know why I go so crazy over her. She's the only person in six years to show any interest in me. Granted, it's a kind of shitty way to show interest, but it's interest nonetheless. I just want to be able to hold onto that as long as possible, because it's few and far between for me. One of the people who asked me about it said I shouldn't give up on finding someone. I'm a nice guy and there's someone waiting for me somewhere. Yeah, but do you know how frustrating it is to go six years with absolutely nothing, while all your friends are hooking up, getting married, having children?! I said in a bulletin the other day that my problem isn't that all the good ones are taken. They are, but that's not all of my anger. Even the bad ones are taken. That just leaves me with the creeps in between who, ultimately, don't want me either. I'm left to conclude that, yes, there is nobody for me, and I should just get used to it. I have a cousin in his fifties who's never been married, and he seems to be all right.
Truthfully, though, I'm tired of being alone. When I go out with friends, I'm always the third-, fifth-, sometimes seventh-wheel. I hate odd numbers. I always feel so awkward about it, too. Seriously, it's nice to see my friends, but I don't really want to be intruding on your date. I might feel better if it was a double, but unfortunately, it won't be a double. Ever.
Now that I think about it, I've had a few "dates." I put them in quotes because I don't count them. I had a blind date that some friends set me up on, but I screwed that up. I called her a couple days later after 10:00 pm 'cause I was working nights and she thought I was weird. Whatever. Eff her.
I went out a couple times with someone I met at Boyd's one night, but that ended tragically. She spent two separate occasions in jail while I was talking to her. One for unpaid traffic tickets, and the other for assault (she broke her aunt's nose). Needless to say, I avoided her like the Plague after that.
Lastly, the girl from the blog will say that the evening we spent together in March qualifies as a date, because we had dinner and a movie. We went to the pizza place a block from my house, (which she paid for) then we watched Zathura on cable. Then, we were both too nervous to go in for the kiss. That does not count.
So, yes, I'm hopeless. There's not much more I can say than that. I'm hopeless. I'm hopeless and lonely. Bad combination. I don't even know where I'd go to find someone. I've had suggestions. Bars: No. Picking up someone who probably won't remember who you are in the morning is not my cup of tea. Clubs: I don't dance. Conventions: (yes, someone told me this) I like Star Wars as much as the next nerd, but going to those things gives me the creeps. Plus, have you seen the people at those conventions? God-awful, ugly fat hags. Starbuck's: I don't drink coffee. Plus, they all would think they're better than me.
I'm at a loss for words.
The end.
Random thought of the day:
You know what word I really like? Vagabond.
I've had two different people in the past two days ask me for an update about the girl in my blog, so I guess I'll have to write one.
After the events that took place in my last entry, I had invited her to the Halloween bash we had at my house (an excellent time, by the way. If you weren't there, you should've been, loser). She stated that it was her boyfriend's birthday that weekend, so she'd have to be with him. However, he only gets off from work one day a week. If it was Friday, she was going to skip the concert (the one we went to buy tickets for that day, but she decided not to until she knew about this) and hang out with him, then come to the bash on Saturday. But, if he was off Saturday, she'd go to the concert and hang out with him Saturday. Then, she made it sound as if she was going to show up anyway. Asking what time it started, stringing me along. I didn't get my hopes up, though. If she came by, great! If not, no big deal. She didn't show, of course.
Days passed and I didn't hear from her or try to contact her. I really didn't feel like it. I still don't, actually. The only thing I remember asking her was where a good place to get a tattoo is, but I really don't know if that was during the week of the party or after.
Since I've had people questioning me about it, I've gotten to thinking. I'm pretty sure I know why I go so crazy over her. She's the only person in six years to show any interest in me. Granted, it's a kind of shitty way to show interest, but it's interest nonetheless. I just want to be able to hold onto that as long as possible, because it's few and far between for me. One of the people who asked me about it said I shouldn't give up on finding someone. I'm a nice guy and there's someone waiting for me somewhere. Yeah, but do you know how frustrating it is to go six years with absolutely nothing, while all your friends are hooking up, getting married, having children?! I said in a bulletin the other day that my problem isn't that all the good ones are taken. They are, but that's not all of my anger. Even the bad ones are taken. That just leaves me with the creeps in between who, ultimately, don't want me either. I'm left to conclude that, yes, there is nobody for me, and I should just get used to it. I have a cousin in his fifties who's never been married, and he seems to be all right.
Truthfully, though, I'm tired of being alone. When I go out with friends, I'm always the third-, fifth-, sometimes seventh-wheel. I hate odd numbers. I always feel so awkward about it, too. Seriously, it's nice to see my friends, but I don't really want to be intruding on your date. I might feel better if it was a double, but unfortunately, it won't be a double. Ever.
Now that I think about it, I've had a few "dates." I put them in quotes because I don't count them. I had a blind date that some friends set me up on, but I screwed that up. I called her a couple days later after 10:00 pm 'cause I was working nights and she thought I was weird. Whatever. Eff her.
I went out a couple times with someone I met at Boyd's one night, but that ended tragically. She spent two separate occasions in jail while I was talking to her. One for unpaid traffic tickets, and the other for assault (she broke her aunt's nose). Needless to say, I avoided her like the Plague after that.
Lastly, the girl from the blog will say that the evening we spent together in March qualifies as a date, because we had dinner and a movie. We went to the pizza place a block from my house, (which she paid for) then we watched Zathura on cable. Then, we were both too nervous to go in for the kiss. That does not count.
So, yes, I'm hopeless. There's not much more I can say than that. I'm hopeless. I'm hopeless and lonely. Bad combination. I don't even know where I'd go to find someone. I've had suggestions. Bars: No. Picking up someone who probably won't remember who you are in the morning is not my cup of tea. Clubs: I don't dance. Conventions: (yes, someone told me this) I like Star Wars as much as the next nerd, but going to those things gives me the creeps. Plus, have you seen the people at those conventions? God-awful, ugly fat hags. Starbuck's: I don't drink coffee. Plus, they all would think they're better than me.
I'm at a loss for words.
The end.
Random thought of the day:
You know what word I really like? Vagabond.
Nobody reads these things anyway...
Original post: November 2, 2007
This evening, I got to enjoy the comedy stylings of Demetri Martin at BCC. Lots of new material, like "A great way to propose to somebody is to break her finger. Then, have the doctor put the ring under the cast. When she takes it off three weeks later, you can say, 'Look, bitch, we've been engaged for almost a month!'" Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it, but I also had a lot of fun before the show started.
See, the BCC people handed out surveys to everyone in order to better serve their students. I know nobody takes those seriously, so I was no exception. Since Zach didn't want to fill his in, I got to do two of them! I'm pretty sure I can remember them all, but we'll see. I'll write the question, followed by my first answer, then the one I wrote on Zach's in parentheses.
Which of these best describes you:
0 BCC student
0 Friend of a BCC student
0 Family member of a BCC student
0 Other_____________
I, of course, filled in Other like this:
Awesome (All of the above)
How did you hear about the event?
Sorry, I don't speak English. (I don't know where I am...)
Did you know that BCC has a radio station?
No. (Yes)
Do you listen to Z88.9?
Yes. (wrote in "Hell no!")
How do you find out about BCC events?
The voices in my head. (None of your business.)
What kind of events would you like to see on campus?
Donkey shows. (Naked ones.)
In your opinion, what is BCC's greatest strength?
You teach people stuff. (The pool.)
What's BCC's greatest weakness?
I don't remember what I wrote on mine. (Not enough bars.)
If you were in charge of BCC, what would you do to make it better?
I don't remember this one, either. (Hire Don Imus.)
If you were running BCC, what would be your greatest worry?
Rape. (Carnies.)
I really wish I could remember those two answers, but I'll write another blog if I come up with 'em.
This evening, I got to enjoy the comedy stylings of Demetri Martin at BCC. Lots of new material, like "A great way to propose to somebody is to break her finger. Then, have the doctor put the ring under the cast. When she takes it off three weeks later, you can say, 'Look, bitch, we've been engaged for almost a month!'" Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it, but I also had a lot of fun before the show started.
See, the BCC people handed out surveys to everyone in order to better serve their students. I know nobody takes those seriously, so I was no exception. Since Zach didn't want to fill his in, I got to do two of them! I'm pretty sure I can remember them all, but we'll see. I'll write the question, followed by my first answer, then the one I wrote on Zach's in parentheses.
Which of these best describes you:
0 BCC student
0 Friend of a BCC student
0 Family member of a BCC student
0 Other_____________
I, of course, filled in Other like this:
Awesome (All of the above)
How did you hear about the event?
Sorry, I don't speak English. (I don't know where I am...)
Did you know that BCC has a radio station?
No. (Yes)
Do you listen to Z88.9?
Yes. (wrote in "Hell no!")
How do you find out about BCC events?
The voices in my head. (None of your business.)
What kind of events would you like to see on campus?
Donkey shows. (Naked ones.)
In your opinion, what is BCC's greatest strength?
You teach people stuff. (The pool.)
What's BCC's greatest weakness?
I don't remember what I wrote on mine. (Not enough bars.)
If you were in charge of BCC, what would you do to make it better?
I don't remember this one, either. (Hire Don Imus.)
If you were running BCC, what would be your greatest worry?
Rape. (Carnies.)
I really wish I could remember those two answers, but I'll write another blog if I come up with 'em.
The worst feeling in the world.
Original post: October 22, 2007
After a bit of consideration, I've decided it's safe to post this here after posting it on Facebook first. (10-21-07) Also, please note the addition at the end.
You wanna know what the worst feeling in the world is? It's not physical pain, like giving birth, or cracking your femur. No, it's going out and having a good time with someone you really like and knowing that, at the end of the day, you're not going to be the one she kisses good night.
It started last night. She texted me and asked if I wanted to go on a haunted hayride thing tonight with some of her friends. I agreed, but soon after, she changed her mind and wanted me to do a charity walk for Autism instead, which I found out later was because her boyfriend flaked out on her. Plus, she knew her other friend would flake out on the hayride, so she was covering all the bases. Sure, I like walking. And it's for a good cause. So, we met at the Starbuck's in Bordentown, 'cause she needed a fix, and we headed to Mercer County Community College.
Right from the start, we were having a great time. I really got to be myself around her. Sarcasm, puns, innuendo, double entendres. You name it, I had it in my bag of tricks. She loves that kind of stuff, so I was really charming the pants off of her (so to speak). And she was dishing it right back at me. And I was loving every second of it (she doesn't need to charm me to get my pants off, though...) We have such incredibly similar personalities, she's like a female version of me. Which is perfect. That's what I've been looking for my entire life. Of course, finding what you're looking for and actually getting it are two entirely different things. I digress...
After the walk, she wanted to get concert tickets at the Quakerbridge Mall. I'm all for spending more time with her, so I tagged along. We looked at the posters in F.Y.E., wandered around the Halloween store for a bit, then we headed out. It was on the way back to Bordentown that I dropped the bomb on her:
"Can I ask you something without you getting weird?"
"Uhh... I don't know if I can make that promise."
"Okay...."
Then, the awkward silence. I wanted to word it just right, and I'm very rarely at a loss for words, so we both got a little scared.
"Why is it you'll never give me a chance?"
"Well, I think it's mostly due to bad timing..."
Whenever she starts talking to me again after disappearing for a few months, she is always dating someone. Sometimes they're happy, other times they aren't. The fact is there's always someone, and I'd never wanna be the guy that helped her cheat. Ever. So, I'm basically stuck hanging out with her very rarely and hoping she realizes that she's amorously infatuated with me after all. Back to the conversation:
"Another reason is that I think you're so great, and I wouldn't want something to happen that would make me think less of you."
"Like what?"
"It turns out that most of the guys I date are okay in the beginning, but then they become jerks, and I don't wanna do that to you."
"Well, that means they were jerks to begin with..."
And that's another point I will never get across to her; I'm not a jerk. Unfortunately, with her experience, there's no way to convince her that it's true. So many guys have told her that in the past, then showed her what assholes they really are that it's skewed her idea of when people are speaking the truth.
"I don't change for anyone, in a good or bad way. Besides, you like me just the way I am..."
"I don't want to end up hurting you..."
"Technically, you've already done that."
Re: Last April, when I was there to help her decide to break up with her boyfriend. I suggested that she date me instead, and she almost went along with it. She wanted some time to be single, and I respected that. Then, she started dating one of her ex's again. That was the last time I lost touch with her until she found me on MySpace a couple months ago.
"All I'm asking you is to just give me a chance."
"It's not fair to say that while I'm seeing someone..."
"Well, whenever I see you, you're with someone, so if I don't say it now, it won't get said..."
Then we hugged and I got in my car. And I had the most depressing car ride of my life. Don't worry, I feel way better now that I wrote all this down.
I got to have a chat with my mother about what happened:
"Remember: Nice guys get the nice girls in the end."
"Yeah, but I'm so far back that I can't see anyone else in the race. I'm not even sure if I'm still in the race anymore."
Dad: "There's gotta be some single girls out there."
"You'd think that, but you'd be surprised."
And that's the real reason behind all this. I don't think it's her, per se, that I get so crazy over. It's the feelings that get brought up. Loneliness, mostly. Six years of girls turning you down because they're already seeing someone can send you in a spiral, if you let it. I was at the point for a while where I almost thought there was nobody left for me. Until I got rejected by a single gal I met at a party. Then I knew it was true.
In this case, however, it irritates me to know that, even though she likes me and thinks I'm awesome in every way imaginable, she'll date a bunch of guys that turn out to be douchebags because she doesn't want to tarnish the flawless image of me that she's created. That's really sweet, but in my head, it's like she'll give everyone but me a chance (a fact that I ultimately decided I shouldn't bring up to her, because it sounds like I'm calling her a whore, which is totally incorrect).
Later on, I texted her again:
"Just out of curiosity, if you were in the situation where you were single and you hadn't disappeared from my life, would you consider dating me?"
"Of course."
"Even though you don't wanna turn me into a jerk, as you put it?"
"I said I'd consider it..."
"I did word it like that, didn't I?"
"Yes, sir."
Sadly, I'm not sure if that situation will ever come up. ::sigh::
Oh, dear, I seem to have rambled for quite some time. Oops. I feel much better after getting this off my chest, though. Thanks for sticking with my rantings.
Editor's note:
Since I wrote this, I've decided that I'm not going to ask her all the hardball questions that I do anymore. I think I've actually got all the answers I was looking for, and you know what? I'm content with them. From now on, I'm just gonna cherish the time we actually get with each other. I'll work my usual charm, of course, and if something happens, it happens. We'll make the best of what we've got.
After a bit of consideration, I've decided it's safe to post this here after posting it on Facebook first. (10-21-07) Also, please note the addition at the end.
You wanna know what the worst feeling in the world is? It's not physical pain, like giving birth, or cracking your femur. No, it's going out and having a good time with someone you really like and knowing that, at the end of the day, you're not going to be the one she kisses good night.
It started last night. She texted me and asked if I wanted to go on a haunted hayride thing tonight with some of her friends. I agreed, but soon after, she changed her mind and wanted me to do a charity walk for Autism instead, which I found out later was because her boyfriend flaked out on her. Plus, she knew her other friend would flake out on the hayride, so she was covering all the bases. Sure, I like walking. And it's for a good cause. So, we met at the Starbuck's in Bordentown, 'cause she needed a fix, and we headed to Mercer County Community College.
Right from the start, we were having a great time. I really got to be myself around her. Sarcasm, puns, innuendo, double entendres. You name it, I had it in my bag of tricks. She loves that kind of stuff, so I was really charming the pants off of her (so to speak). And she was dishing it right back at me. And I was loving every second of it (she doesn't need to charm me to get my pants off, though...) We have such incredibly similar personalities, she's like a female version of me. Which is perfect. That's what I've been looking for my entire life. Of course, finding what you're looking for and actually getting it are two entirely different things. I digress...
After the walk, she wanted to get concert tickets at the Quakerbridge Mall. I'm all for spending more time with her, so I tagged along. We looked at the posters in F.Y.E., wandered around the Halloween store for a bit, then we headed out. It was on the way back to Bordentown that I dropped the bomb on her:
"Can I ask you something without you getting weird?"
"Uhh... I don't know if I can make that promise."
"Okay...."
Then, the awkward silence. I wanted to word it just right, and I'm very rarely at a loss for words, so we both got a little scared.
"Why is it you'll never give me a chance?"
"Well, I think it's mostly due to bad timing..."
Whenever she starts talking to me again after disappearing for a few months, she is always dating someone. Sometimes they're happy, other times they aren't. The fact is there's always someone, and I'd never wanna be the guy that helped her cheat. Ever. So, I'm basically stuck hanging out with her very rarely and hoping she realizes that she's amorously infatuated with me after all. Back to the conversation:
"Another reason is that I think you're so great, and I wouldn't want something to happen that would make me think less of you."
"Like what?"
"It turns out that most of the guys I date are okay in the beginning, but then they become jerks, and I don't wanna do that to you."
"Well, that means they were jerks to begin with..."
And that's another point I will never get across to her; I'm not a jerk. Unfortunately, with her experience, there's no way to convince her that it's true. So many guys have told her that in the past, then showed her what assholes they really are that it's skewed her idea of when people are speaking the truth.
"I don't change for anyone, in a good or bad way. Besides, you like me just the way I am..."
"I don't want to end up hurting you..."
"Technically, you've already done that."
Re: Last April, when I was there to help her decide to break up with her boyfriend. I suggested that she date me instead, and she almost went along with it. She wanted some time to be single, and I respected that. Then, she started dating one of her ex's again. That was the last time I lost touch with her until she found me on MySpace a couple months ago.
"All I'm asking you is to just give me a chance."
"It's not fair to say that while I'm seeing someone..."
"Well, whenever I see you, you're with someone, so if I don't say it now, it won't get said..."
Then we hugged and I got in my car. And I had the most depressing car ride of my life. Don't worry, I feel way better now that I wrote all this down.
I got to have a chat with my mother about what happened:
"Remember: Nice guys get the nice girls in the end."
"Yeah, but I'm so far back that I can't see anyone else in the race. I'm not even sure if I'm still in the race anymore."
Dad: "There's gotta be some single girls out there."
"You'd think that, but you'd be surprised."
And that's the real reason behind all this. I don't think it's her, per se, that I get so crazy over. It's the feelings that get brought up. Loneliness, mostly. Six years of girls turning you down because they're already seeing someone can send you in a spiral, if you let it. I was at the point for a while where I almost thought there was nobody left for me. Until I got rejected by a single gal I met at a party. Then I knew it was true.
In this case, however, it irritates me to know that, even though she likes me and thinks I'm awesome in every way imaginable, she'll date a bunch of guys that turn out to be douchebags because she doesn't want to tarnish the flawless image of me that she's created. That's really sweet, but in my head, it's like she'll give everyone but me a chance (a fact that I ultimately decided I shouldn't bring up to her, because it sounds like I'm calling her a whore, which is totally incorrect).
Later on, I texted her again:
"Just out of curiosity, if you were in the situation where you were single and you hadn't disappeared from my life, would you consider dating me?"
"Of course."
"Even though you don't wanna turn me into a jerk, as you put it?"
"I said I'd consider it..."
"I did word it like that, didn't I?"
"Yes, sir."
Sadly, I'm not sure if that situation will ever come up. ::sigh::
Oh, dear, I seem to have rambled for quite some time. Oops. I feel much better after getting this off my chest, though. Thanks for sticking with my rantings.
Editor's note:
Since I wrote this, I've decided that I'm not going to ask her all the hardball questions that I do anymore. I think I've actually got all the answers I was looking for, and you know what? I'm content with them. From now on, I'm just gonna cherish the time we actually get with each other. I'll work my usual charm, of course, and if something happens, it happens. We'll make the best of what we've got.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Original post: October 10, 2007
Once again, I've made it abundantly clear to myself that I'm destined to be single. At least for a little while longer.
While working at Boyd's tonight, I had the pleasure of working the counter the whole time. At one point, it was quiet, and I kind of zoned out, like you do. Then, this fine young lady walks in. I helped her find the chips and some soda. We made some idle chit chat, and she left. And the whole time, the back of my brain is screaming, Ask her out! Ask her out! I had all the words to use, too. She seemed like she was either new to town, or just visiting for the night, so I thought I should ask her if I could show her around. You know, in a non-creepy manner. Everything was going good, but I just couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud. It was right there, and it couldn't be uttered! What the fuck?! And I could tell she would have definitely agreed to it. Or at least put me down nicely. And I really REALLY thought that I had changed in that regard. I usually don't mind asking someone out, because there's not that many people I'm attracted to anymore.. But tonight, it got to the point that I was ANGRY at myself because I said nothing. If she was just visiting, then I'll never get the chance again. I seriously was hoping she came back in for another quick snack or something, 'cause I psyched myself up for it. But, of course, she didn't. So instead, I write this and sigh. Oh well. Maybe luck's just taking a break with me.
Once again, I've made it abundantly clear to myself that I'm destined to be single. At least for a little while longer.
While working at Boyd's tonight, I had the pleasure of working the counter the whole time. At one point, it was quiet, and I kind of zoned out, like you do. Then, this fine young lady walks in. I helped her find the chips and some soda. We made some idle chit chat, and she left. And the whole time, the back of my brain is screaming, Ask her out! Ask her out! I had all the words to use, too. She seemed like she was either new to town, or just visiting for the night, so I thought I should ask her if I could show her around. You know, in a non-creepy manner. Everything was going good, but I just couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud. It was right there, and it couldn't be uttered! What the fuck?! And I could tell she would have definitely agreed to it. Or at least put me down nicely. And I really REALLY thought that I had changed in that regard. I usually don't mind asking someone out, because there's not that many people I'm attracted to anymore.. But tonight, it got to the point that I was ANGRY at myself because I said nothing. If she was just visiting, then I'll never get the chance again. I seriously was hoping she came back in for another quick snack or something, 'cause I psyched myself up for it. But, of course, she didn't. So instead, I write this and sigh. Oh well. Maybe luck's just taking a break with me.
Ghosts of Bordentown.
Original post: September 21, 2007
First of all, you should be aware that since the time I left Boyd's two years ago, there's been several reports of paranormal activity in the stock room. Matt Ingham says he saw someone standing in the room through the gap between the door and the door frame, but when he walked all the way in, nobody was there. While Kate was filling the mop bucket, she heard what sounded like someone audibly breathing in her ear, like a hhhhhhuuuuuuuuu. Or someone breathing the word "hot." She's been creeped out ever since.
I tell you that so that I can tell you about her experience tonight. The two of us were working, along with the new girl, Amy. In order for you to truly know how terrified Kate was, I'm going to tell it from her point of view. These are mostly her words, but I might have to paraphrase a bit:
I was filling bags of ice in the back room. The ice machine is set up right next to the sink where I'd had my first encounter. I had gotten a few bags filled and I was working on another when I heard the sound again. My first thought was Oh no, not again. My heart started pounding out of my chest, and I turned to bolt out the door. Behind me, I see this form that shouldn't have been there. I let out this blood-curdling scream at the top of my lungs. I dropped the bag of ice because I was shaking so bad, and I was on the verge of tears. Then my brain registered that It was Ian.
I'm such a dick. I went back there on a completely unrelated task. Here's how my thought processes got me to that point:
I need to go back and get some boxed wine for the shelf.--->
Gee, my name tag is banging against my wallet chain in a rather loud fashion.--->
If I quiet that down, I might be able to sneak up on Kate.--->
Didn't she say something about ghosts...?--->
IDEA!
And, that was that. Seriously, I felt bad after I did it. For about thirty seconds. If I had known she gets THAT freaked out by ghostly things, I wouldn't have done it at all. I apologized, and she was fine after a few minutes. I'll probably get a beating one of these days for it, though...
First of all, you should be aware that since the time I left Boyd's two years ago, there's been several reports of paranormal activity in the stock room. Matt Ingham says he saw someone standing in the room through the gap between the door and the door frame, but when he walked all the way in, nobody was there. While Kate was filling the mop bucket, she heard what sounded like someone audibly breathing in her ear, like a hhhhhhuuuuuuuuu. Or someone breathing the word "hot." She's been creeped out ever since.
I tell you that so that I can tell you about her experience tonight. The two of us were working, along with the new girl, Amy. In order for you to truly know how terrified Kate was, I'm going to tell it from her point of view. These are mostly her words, but I might have to paraphrase a bit:
I was filling bags of ice in the back room. The ice machine is set up right next to the sink where I'd had my first encounter. I had gotten a few bags filled and I was working on another when I heard the sound again. My first thought was Oh no, not again. My heart started pounding out of my chest, and I turned to bolt out the door. Behind me, I see this form that shouldn't have been there. I let out this blood-curdling scream at the top of my lungs. I dropped the bag of ice because I was shaking so bad, and I was on the verge of tears. Then my brain registered that It was Ian.
I'm such a dick. I went back there on a completely unrelated task. Here's how my thought processes got me to that point:
I need to go back and get some boxed wine for the shelf.--->
Gee, my name tag is banging against my wallet chain in a rather loud fashion.--->
If I quiet that down, I might be able to sneak up on Kate.--->
Didn't she say something about ghosts...?--->
IDEA!
And, that was that. Seriously, I felt bad after I did it. For about thirty seconds. If I had known she gets THAT freaked out by ghostly things, I wouldn't have done it at all. I apologized, and she was fine after a few minutes. I'll probably get a beating one of these days for it, though...
And another thing...
Original post: August 15, 2007
Along the same lines of my mother going senile and telling me all these weird things, she also felt the need to inform me that I should go visit my cousins at their shore house, because their cousin is staying there also and I should go talk to her.
Excuse me? I hope I'm not the only one that finds that creepy. I know she's not related to me, however she is my cousins' cousin, and there's something incredibly disturbing about that. Like it would rip a hole in the space-time-continuum. And I don't have a DeLorean to get me back home again.
Along the same lines of my mother going senile and telling me all these weird things, she also felt the need to inform me that I should go visit my cousins at their shore house, because their cousin is staying there also and I should go talk to her.
Excuse me? I hope I'm not the only one that finds that creepy. I know she's not related to me, however she is my cousins' cousin, and there's something incredibly disturbing about that. Like it would rip a hole in the space-time-continuum. And I don't have a DeLorean to get me back home again.
22 Short Stories About Ian.
Original post: August 13, 2007
The following are several stories that were too short to fill up a regular blog, but combined create one super-blog. Enjoy!
1) After I wrote the blog about my mom wanting me to be gay, Chris and I were talking online, and this comment came up:
Chris: I'm gonna call you Queeran from now on, okay?
Me: Do I have a choice?
Chris: Not really.
Me: Fine, then.
2) Ralph and I have decided that doing an impression of Don Knotts is the funniest thing ever. At first, we just had him saying ridiculous things, like, "Hi, I'm Don Knotts. You might remember me from The Incredible Mister Limpet. Are you tired of being an incredible Mister Limpet? Try Viagra!" Then, we started getting into famous quotes from movies and songs. "I'm Spartacus!" "Oops, I did it, again." Etc. I hadn't laughed so hard since we were telling Kate all the "spoilers" for Harry Potter.
3) I was in Wendy's the other day, and as I perused the menu, the Ultimate Chicken Grill caught my eye. Not because it was particularly appetizing, but because of the note sitting next to the picture. Apparently, this sandwich is "Now Tastier." How the hell can they possibly back up this claim? Unless there's one person that is constantly tasting every sandwich ever made all across the country, (and outside of it) before they're given to the public, then they have no proof.
4) On my way to my parents' house on Friday, I passed a car that had a vanity license plate. It said "PRVRB 31". Being the definitive go-to Bible guy, I texted Ralph.
Me: Any idea what Proverbs 31 is?
Ralph: It's the epilogue titled "A Wife of Character." It highlights the proper role of a wife.
Me: Why the hell would someone put that on a license plate?
Ralph: Haha, no idea.
The following are several stories that were too short to fill up a regular blog, but combined create one super-blog. Enjoy!
1) After I wrote the blog about my mom wanting me to be gay, Chris and I were talking online, and this comment came up:
Chris: I'm gonna call you Queeran from now on, okay?
Me: Do I have a choice?
Chris: Not really.
Me: Fine, then.
2) Ralph and I have decided that doing an impression of Don Knotts is the funniest thing ever. At first, we just had him saying ridiculous things, like, "Hi, I'm Don Knotts. You might remember me from The Incredible Mister Limpet. Are you tired of being an incredible Mister Limpet? Try Viagra!" Then, we started getting into famous quotes from movies and songs. "I'm Spartacus!" "Oops, I did it, again." Etc. I hadn't laughed so hard since we were telling Kate all the "spoilers" for Harry Potter.
3) I was in Wendy's the other day, and as I perused the menu, the Ultimate Chicken Grill caught my eye. Not because it was particularly appetizing, but because of the note sitting next to the picture. Apparently, this sandwich is "Now Tastier." How the hell can they possibly back up this claim? Unless there's one person that is constantly tasting every sandwich ever made all across the country, (and outside of it) before they're given to the public, then they have no proof.
4) On my way to my parents' house on Friday, I passed a car that had a vanity license plate. It said "PRVRB 31". Being the definitive go-to Bible guy, I texted Ralph.
Me: Any idea what Proverbs 31 is?
Ralph: It's the epilogue titled "A Wife of Character." It highlights the proper role of a wife.
Me: Why the hell would someone put that on a license plate?
Ralph: Haha, no idea.
A short but entertaining story.
Original post: August 8, 2007
While talking to my mother a few days ago, she confessed to me that she always thought, after giving birth to three boys, that one of them would turn out to be gay.
"Umm, you do realize you're talking to the one that isn't married. Or even dating anyone, for that matter."
"Well, I'm not saying that."
"But you were implying that."
"Not that I would love you any less..."
"Do you know something I don't?"
"No, I was just saying..."
So, there you have it. My mom subconsciously wants me to be homosexual. That might explain why she always tells me that she wanted to name me Fiona if I was a girl... Maybe I should become a girl, then.
The handicapped are assholes, too.
Original post: July 27, 2007
On my way home from work today, I very nearly hit someone. Not a driving someone. A walking someone.
The way that I normally drive home, due to the way our streets are set up, involves me driving down Cooper past the Riverline station, then making a left on Hickory, the next street over from where I live, then basically making a U-turn to get to my place. As I drove down Hickory today, however, I noticed that there was a person wanting to cross the street from my left. Yes, he was handicapped. A little gimpy. He was probably on his way home from the train station after a long day. He had his little backpack on and a smile. And he still had a ways to go to in order to make it into the street. I was going fast enough that I could pass him quickly before he got there.
Or so I thought. As I got closer, he continued to walk into the street. I sped up only slightly to try and make it. He continued walking, with complete disregard to anything happening around him. I had to slam on my brakes in order to let him meander out of my way. All the while, he refused to look at anything having to do with the world around him.
I glared at him as he strode past. When there was enough room, I peeled rubber down the street. Seriously, I have nothing against handicapped people, but when you think you can do WHATEVER you want because of the way you are, you've got another thing coming. If you're going to be oblivious to the one ton piece of metal traveling down the street at a respectable speed, you deserve to be run over. People like that are dangerous, not only to themselves, but to the vehicles around them. They shouldn't be let out of the house unsupervised if they're going to do things like that.
That is all.
On my way home from work today, I very nearly hit someone. Not a driving someone. A walking someone.
The way that I normally drive home, due to the way our streets are set up, involves me driving down Cooper past the Riverline station, then making a left on Hickory, the next street over from where I live, then basically making a U-turn to get to my place. As I drove down Hickory today, however, I noticed that there was a person wanting to cross the street from my left. Yes, he was handicapped. A little gimpy. He was probably on his way home from the train station after a long day. He had his little backpack on and a smile. And he still had a ways to go to in order to make it into the street. I was going fast enough that I could pass him quickly before he got there.
Or so I thought. As I got closer, he continued to walk into the street. I sped up only slightly to try and make it. He continued walking, with complete disregard to anything happening around him. I had to slam on my brakes in order to let him meander out of my way. All the while, he refused to look at anything having to do with the world around him.
I glared at him as he strode past. When there was enough room, I peeled rubber down the street. Seriously, I have nothing against handicapped people, but when you think you can do WHATEVER you want because of the way you are, you've got another thing coming. If you're going to be oblivious to the one ton piece of metal traveling down the street at a respectable speed, you deserve to be run over. People like that are dangerous, not only to themselves, but to the vehicles around them. They shouldn't be let out of the house unsupervised if they're going to do things like that.
That is all.
The best laid plans.
Original post: July 26, 2007
Monday night, I discovered an inert fondness for practical jokes that I had no idea existed. While waiting for my shift to end, I got an idea for something to do to Dawn, my head teller. Unfortunately, I would have to wait until the next evening to implement it. Luckily, I enjoy the kind of jape that comes to fruition after a bit of time.
As soon as the lobby doors were locked on Tuesday and Dawn left, I set about my work. I took her paper clip container and proceeded to attach them all in a chain fashion. I then placed them all carefully back into their bin, with the exception of four. I then covered up the top with clear tape, placed the magnetic lid over that, and placed the four leftover clips on the magnet. This way, at the rate we go through paper clips, she wouldn't find it for days.
Two days passed. I got lunch from Wendy's because I got paid, and brought it back to work to eat in our kitchen. I was playing a bit of Solitaire with the deck of cards I brought in when I heard Dawn behind the teller line say, "Ken, did you tape my paper clips in here?"
"No, Ian did it," was the reply.
From where I was, I could look through the window towards the teller line, and I saw Dawn glaring in at me. I waved and continued to watch, because I knew the best part was coming. "Wow," she said to Ken, "he did this really well."
Then, she sat back pulling the chain out as far as her arm could stretch. "What the hell is this?!"
I got up to take the credit. "When did you do this?"
"Tuesday."
"Were you really that bored?"
"No, it was premeditative. I came up with the idea on Monday."
"Oh my God, I can jump rope with this."
For the next ten minutes, all that we heard from her teller station was the clink of individual paper clips being thrown angrily back into the plastic container.
Monday night, I discovered an inert fondness for practical jokes that I had no idea existed. While waiting for my shift to end, I got an idea for something to do to Dawn, my head teller. Unfortunately, I would have to wait until the next evening to implement it. Luckily, I enjoy the kind of jape that comes to fruition after a bit of time.
As soon as the lobby doors were locked on Tuesday and Dawn left, I set about my work. I took her paper clip container and proceeded to attach them all in a chain fashion. I then placed them all carefully back into their bin, with the exception of four. I then covered up the top with clear tape, placed the magnetic lid over that, and placed the four leftover clips on the magnet. This way, at the rate we go through paper clips, she wouldn't find it for days.
Two days passed. I got lunch from Wendy's because I got paid, and brought it back to work to eat in our kitchen. I was playing a bit of Solitaire with the deck of cards I brought in when I heard Dawn behind the teller line say, "Ken, did you tape my paper clips in here?"
"No, Ian did it," was the reply.
From where I was, I could look through the window towards the teller line, and I saw Dawn glaring in at me. I waved and continued to watch, because I knew the best part was coming. "Wow," she said to Ken, "he did this really well."
Then, she sat back pulling the chain out as far as her arm could stretch. "What the hell is this?!"
I got up to take the credit. "When did you do this?"
"Tuesday."
"Were you really that bored?"
"No, it was premeditative. I came up with the idea on Monday."
"Oh my God, I can jump rope with this."
For the next ten minutes, all that we heard from her teller station was the clink of individual paper clips being thrown angrily back into the plastic container.
Harry Potter spoilers. Or are they...?
Original post: July 22, 2007
Originally, I didn't understand why people would take something that others enjoyed, no matter how nerdy it may be, and proceed to ruin it for them. I was seriously thinking that Zach was going to find something on the internet and totally give away the ending. The only things I got were, "Did you get to the part where Harry gets laid, yet?" and, "Dude, Dumbledore dies." Obviously, both are inaccurate; Dumbledore is already dead, and J.K. Rowling most likely wouldn't delve into the birds and the bees as they occur in the wizarding world. I guess I was lucky.
I was up until 3:30 last night to finish it. When I got up later that morning, I realized Kate was with Dan at his cousin's house for the weekend. She probably hadn't gotten a chance to even skim a copy yet.
The Devil Ian popped up on my shoulder.
"Go ahead. Just a small little detail. She's gonna read it, anyway."
The Angel Ian appeared on the other.
"I don't agree with that. You yourself didn't want anyone to spoil it for you."
"Well, then, just lie. Tell her something that COULD happen, but ultimately doesn't."
"I'm not condoning this course of action, but if you must..."
That's when I sent the first text message.
"Dumbledore dies... Again."
"?!?! Wha...? Please don't spoil anything to me. I haven't even held my copy yet."
"I'm lying. Relax. People can't die twice, not even wizards."
"Haha true... but there was this fleeting hope... siiiigh... Dumbledore..."
And I left it at that, until Ralph and I went to Don Pablo's. We discussed some of it (he's only on Chapter Eight) and he gave some speculation about where it was going. On the way back, I told him about what I told Kate, and he decided he should do that, to.
"Did you read Harry Potter? I just got to the part where Dumbledore dies again."
Then, we discussed the langauge in the book, which was harsher than books past. That's when we started messaging her simultaneously with things that could never possibly happen. Ralph's included things about Harry hooking up with Draco, and Voldemort dying from AIDS in the end (to which my dad replied, "That's what he gets for putting his wand where it doesn't belong.") Kate and I had this to say:
"You should see the last page where Harry tells Voldemort to fuck off..."
"You're full of shit. Are you and Ralph hanging out? haha"
"No. Why?"
"Cuz he's txting me about Dumbledore dying & other crap. 'Did you read Harry Potter? I just got to the part where Dumbledore dies again.'"
"Oh, that's funny. You should see when Harry saves his parents by getting the Delorean and going back to kill Voldemort."
"HAHAHA! I can't wait."
"You think that's exciting, wait until (name withheld) dies. It's spectacular. Very graphic."
"Okay, okay... I'm done with this."
"Wait, I didn't tell you about Hogwarts transforming into Optimus Prime!"
I think she turned off her phone. Neither Ralph nor myself heard from her again. That was a good time, though. It's been a while since I laughed that hard at something. Now I see the fun in it, even though I didn't give away anything real. And yes, Kate, every word of it was a lie. Just so you know.
Originally, I didn't understand why people would take something that others enjoyed, no matter how nerdy it may be, and proceed to ruin it for them. I was seriously thinking that Zach was going to find something on the internet and totally give away the ending. The only things I got were, "Did you get to the part where Harry gets laid, yet?" and, "Dude, Dumbledore dies." Obviously, both are inaccurate; Dumbledore is already dead, and J.K. Rowling most likely wouldn't delve into the birds and the bees as they occur in the wizarding world. I guess I was lucky.
I was up until 3:30 last night to finish it. When I got up later that morning, I realized Kate was with Dan at his cousin's house for the weekend. She probably hadn't gotten a chance to even skim a copy yet.
The Devil Ian popped up on my shoulder.
"Go ahead. Just a small little detail. She's gonna read it, anyway."
The Angel Ian appeared on the other.
"I don't agree with that. You yourself didn't want anyone to spoil it for you."
"Well, then, just lie. Tell her something that COULD happen, but ultimately doesn't."
"I'm not condoning this course of action, but if you must..."
That's when I sent the first text message.
"Dumbledore dies... Again."
"?!?! Wha...? Please don't spoil anything to me. I haven't even held my copy yet."
"I'm lying. Relax. People can't die twice, not even wizards."
"Haha true... but there was this fleeting hope... siiiigh... Dumbledore..."
And I left it at that, until Ralph and I went to Don Pablo's. We discussed some of it (he's only on Chapter Eight) and he gave some speculation about where it was going. On the way back, I told him about what I told Kate, and he decided he should do that, to.
"Did you read Harry Potter? I just got to the part where Dumbledore dies again."
Then, we discussed the langauge in the book, which was harsher than books past. That's when we started messaging her simultaneously with things that could never possibly happen. Ralph's included things about Harry hooking up with Draco, and Voldemort dying from AIDS in the end (to which my dad replied, "That's what he gets for putting his wand where it doesn't belong.") Kate and I had this to say:
"You should see the last page where Harry tells Voldemort to fuck off..."
"You're full of shit. Are you and Ralph hanging out? haha"
"No. Why?"
"Cuz he's txting me about Dumbledore dying & other crap. 'Did you read Harry Potter? I just got to the part where Dumbledore dies again.'"
"Oh, that's funny. You should see when Harry saves his parents by getting the Delorean and going back to kill Voldemort."
"HAHAHA! I can't wait."
"You think that's exciting, wait until (name withheld) dies. It's spectacular. Very graphic."
"Okay, okay... I'm done with this."
"Wait, I didn't tell you about Hogwarts transforming into Optimus Prime!"
I think she turned off her phone. Neither Ralph nor myself heard from her again. That was a good time, though. It's been a while since I laughed that hard at something. Now I see the fun in it, even though I didn't give away anything real. And yes, Kate, every word of it was a lie. Just so you know.
My day has seriously just gone downhill.
Original post: July 19, 2007
After work, I had planned to go down to the only Beneficial Bank in New Jersey (until the merger takes effect) and open a checking account. You work in a bank, I hear you thinking. Why would you open an account elsewhere?
Because Sterling sucks, that's why. Cash deposits aren't available until the next business day. CASH!! Since Beneficial is soon to be right around the corner from my house, I figured that'd be a safe bet.
I looked up the hours on the 'net. Thursday and Friday: 9-7. I'll go after work. But, what do I find when I get there? Locked doors. Hours: 9-4.
Mother humpers! Fine, I'll double back, deposit the money into my Sterling account, and see if I can open a Beneficial one online.
Through an extraordinary stroke of luck, I got caught in a humongous line waiting at the train tracks. Where this train was, nobody could tell, but most of us did a K-turn and went back to Route 38. From there, I managed to get in the wrong lane and wound up on I-295 South. During rush hour.
Finally, I ended up by Don Pablo's, so I took the way home through Moorestown. All together, it took me an hour to get back to my work, roundtrip. I put the money in, quickly explained myself, and came home.
Beneficial's online account application was a breeze! I finished it in two minutes. At the end, it informs me to print out my signature card and mail it within ten days. I'm humped. I don't have a printer on my computer. They gave me an access code to check in on the progress, so I figured I could go to Zach's computer and do the old printout there.
That would've been all well and good, if you could access the page to sign in. Online banking is not the same as this code they gave me. In the meantime, I ended up stumbling onto the fact that CASH ISN'T AVAILABLE UNTIL THE NEXT BUSINESS DAY! Goddammit! What the hell is wrong with banks these days?! I had to fill out a form on the FAQ page to see if they could cancel the process. I'd need that money to go to Commerce and open one of their Cash-available-immediately accounts.
I seriously hate this country. Canada, anyone?
After work, I had planned to go down to the only Beneficial Bank in New Jersey (until the merger takes effect) and open a checking account. You work in a bank, I hear you thinking. Why would you open an account elsewhere?
Because Sterling sucks, that's why. Cash deposits aren't available until the next business day. CASH!! Since Beneficial is soon to be right around the corner from my house, I figured that'd be a safe bet.
I looked up the hours on the 'net. Thursday and Friday: 9-7. I'll go after work. But, what do I find when I get there? Locked doors. Hours: 9-4.
Mother humpers! Fine, I'll double back, deposit the money into my Sterling account, and see if I can open a Beneficial one online.
Through an extraordinary stroke of luck, I got caught in a humongous line waiting at the train tracks. Where this train was, nobody could tell, but most of us did a K-turn and went back to Route 38. From there, I managed to get in the wrong lane and wound up on I-295 South. During rush hour.
Finally, I ended up by Don Pablo's, so I took the way home through Moorestown. All together, it took me an hour to get back to my work, roundtrip. I put the money in, quickly explained myself, and came home.
Beneficial's online account application was a breeze! I finished it in two minutes. At the end, it informs me to print out my signature card and mail it within ten days. I'm humped. I don't have a printer on my computer. They gave me an access code to check in on the progress, so I figured I could go to Zach's computer and do the old printout there.
That would've been all well and good, if you could access the page to sign in. Online banking is not the same as this code they gave me. In the meantime, I ended up stumbling onto the fact that CASH ISN'T AVAILABLE UNTIL THE NEXT BUSINESS DAY! Goddammit! What the hell is wrong with banks these days?! I had to fill out a form on the FAQ page to see if they could cancel the process. I'd need that money to go to Commerce and open one of their Cash-available-immediately accounts.
I seriously hate this country. Canada, anyone?
So, here's what I'm gonna do.
Original post: July 11, 2007
I'm gonna actively search out one of those snobby, rich girls in Hollywood. Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Nicole Ritchie.... It doesn't matter. I'll find one. After they're found, most people, when they're as irritated as I am, would do the most horribly inexplicable thing they can imagine to them. Torture. Tar and feathering. Lynching. Drawn and quartered. I'm much worse. I'm gonna find one of 'em out for a night on the town. Make sure it's a public place. Gonna wait for them to go in the night club, or restaurant, or Mayo Clinic. When no one's looking, I'm gonna go over and key their car. That's the worst torture I think they can endure. Either one long swipe down the side, or if I have time, I'll put in a choice word or two. "Skanky McWhorebag" has a nice ring to it. Then, when they come out and see what I've done, I'm gonna watch from the shadows as they cry to their "friends" about how someone could say that without really knowing her. Oh, I know you. I know you real well. You're a brainless, self-absorbed cum bucket who's only popular because your vagina is open 24/7. Don't deny it. Then, I'm gonna scratch her off the list and go for the next one.
I'm gonna actively search out one of those snobby, rich girls in Hollywood. Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Nicole Ritchie.... It doesn't matter. I'll find one. After they're found, most people, when they're as irritated as I am, would do the most horribly inexplicable thing they can imagine to them. Torture. Tar and feathering. Lynching. Drawn and quartered. I'm much worse. I'm gonna find one of 'em out for a night on the town. Make sure it's a public place. Gonna wait for them to go in the night club, or restaurant, or Mayo Clinic. When no one's looking, I'm gonna go over and key their car. That's the worst torture I think they can endure. Either one long swipe down the side, or if I have time, I'll put in a choice word or two. "Skanky McWhorebag" has a nice ring to it. Then, when they come out and see what I've done, I'm gonna watch from the shadows as they cry to their "friends" about how someone could say that without really knowing her. Oh, I know you. I know you real well. You're a brainless, self-absorbed cum bucket who's only popular because your vagina is open 24/7. Don't deny it. Then, I'm gonna scratch her off the list and go for the next one.
Boosting your self-esteem.
Original post: June 28, 2007
So, it's been nearly a week since this incident occured, and it's already been covered by Chris in his blog, but I just had to give my account of the day. Also, I'd like to apologize for the gap in entries, and the fact that the last few tended to lean towards the melodramatic. I'm over things, now.
It was Saturday, and I had to work until 1:00. From there, I had to hightail it to Chris's abode, because the two of us plus Cathy were going to nerd out in Bryn Mawr, PA. A theater there was going to be playing six episodes of the (very) short-lived Fox sci-fi series, Firefly.
Three weeks prior:
Chris: "I found this thing on the internet that says they're showing Firefly on the big screen in PA. You're coming."
Me: "If you say so. I have to work, but I should be free in time. Bank's only open until 1."
Chris: "You're only open until 1."
Me: "Unless you get me drunk enough."
"Present" time: (meaning Saturday)
I wasn't sure how long the ride would be, and the show started at 3:00, so in an effort to save time, I told Chris I was going to change in his car on the way there. Apparently, I ended up changing on the way to Cathy's house, because we still had to pick her up. More time wasted. Oh well. The directions said we'd only need 50 minutes or so to get there, and it was only 1:30. We could risk it.
We all piled in, and the adventure began. Pretty uneventful getting there, except for the car two lengths in front of us at the EZ Pass lane that didn't have an EZ Pass on his car. You'd think that by now people would know how to navigate a toll booth with EZ Pass.
Pulling onto Route 30 East towards Bryn Mawr, I took a quick look at the directions. It said to pull on 30E, like we did, but that we were to end up at 824 Route 30 WEST. Hmmm, curious... To verify if we were going the right direction, I looked which way the numbers were going.
1024
Okay, good.
1026
Uh-oh.
1028
Shit...
"Chris, I think we're going the wrong way."
"We can't be. Directions say this way."
"No matter how much you want your precious Google directions to be right, I don't think they are."
I explained the situation fully, and he told me that we can't be going the wrong way. "Wait until we get into Bryn Mawr," he tells me.
To my astonishment, as soon as we pulled into town, the numbers went back to 1050 and starting decreasing in value. "...Sorry."
We found ourselves at the Bryn Mawr Film Institute, a crappy little theater that appeared to be mostly for college film courses. Pamphlets for upcoming classes hung in dividers on the wall next to posters of movies released within the last year or so. Upon entering the front door, you're immediately met with a hippie coffee shop that serves $4 muffins, as well as other ridiculously priced concoctions. Instead of a ceiling, there was a blue tarp protecting those in the main hallway from rain, snow, acts of God, etc.
Handing the receipt for our tickets (read: printout from Chris's computer) to the guy at the window, we were told to wait by the stairs. Ooh, it'll be shown in some balcony, away from the riff-raff, I thought.
Quite to the contrary, after being led upstairs, we were herded into what amounted to a conference room of sorts, with a widescreen, flat TV hanging from the ceiling on one side, and a slightly worn projector screen on the other. The chairs that we were forced into were placed uncomfortably close together. Uncomfortable all around, actually. High-backed, little padding. They expect us to sit here for six hours in these?!
Now, I'm a mildly attractive guy. I'll admit it. There's a part of me that looks in the mirror and says, "Hey, look at that sexy beast right there." I also know that I probably won't snag myself an Elisha Cuthbert or an Avril Lavigne, but I think I could do pretty well for myself. I'm also at the level where I can pick and choose most of the time. "You? No way," I could tell them. Pretty much average, I'd say. So, when I tell you that I was by far the most attractive person there (Chris and Cathy excluded. You're both hot) you'll know what I mean. I don't think I'd ever seen a more pathetic group of people in my life. And all of them were totally insane.
After sitting down, there were two "people" in front of us: a rotund lady, whom Chris has lovingly named Crazy Awkward Large Laughing Lady (or CALLL for short) and an amazingly ambiguous girl who looked more like Little Pete from The Adventures of Pete and Pete than she did a female. More on CALLL further down. Several of our "comrades" in the other seats were wearing shirts refering to the Browncoats (which is a group of characters in the show that was about to commence). Ambiguous Girl turns to CALLL and asks her something about said Browncoats. "Oh, I'm sure these young people would be better suited to answering that."
Chris and I cocked our eyebrows at each other. Ambiguous Girl mumbles the question to us. "What?" said Chris. "Zubba zubba zubba Browncoats...?" said Ambiguous Girl. "Are you trying to ask us a question?" said Chris. "Could you phrase the question in the form of a question, please?" I said. "Never mind," said Ambiguous Girl, and turned around. Nary a peep came from her while we were there.
As more "people" start to filter in, it's suggested that, instead of newcomers walking over others, everyone should just move down to fill in spots, and newcomers can fill in the end by the door. Claustrophobia kicks in right about now. Small seats, crammed together, surrounded by "people". That equals clenched fists and back spasms for Ian.
Suddenly, there was a flash to my left. One of the guys was actually taking pictures of us at this "event". Great, now there's going to be documented proof of me cavorting with this group of C.H.U.D.s Thanks, Chris.
Finally, they got the show started. "Hooray!" shouted the "people". Something was wrong, however. Everyone looked green. On the screen, not in the room. Apparently, they were using a faulty Red video wire. But, they just let it run. Halfway through the pilot episode (45 minutes, because it was a 2-part pilot) they finally decided to correct their mistake. "If you'll give us a few seconds, we'll switch DVD players." So, they did. Red abounded suddenly on both screens. "Hooray!" shouted the "people".
Anyway, back to CALLL. The reason she is named thusly is because not only would she laugh loudly, but in completely inappropriate spots. The rest of us would laugh together at things, then she would come in whenever the hell she felt like it. Towards the end of the episode, there's a scene where the preacher gets hit in the face with an iron by the lawman that's in their custody (please don't make me explain that). Being there, as she was, one would assume that she had seen the show at least once. Enough to know that it was coming. The scream that she released from her mouth made the whole audience jump. Completely uncalled for.
Speaking of uncalled for, one scene appears near the middle where Zoe is explaining what Reavers are and what they'll do if their ship was caught by said Reavers. "They'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sew our skins into their clothing. And if we're very lucky, they'll do it in that order." That is a very humorous line, and I wanted to let out at least a small chuckle of my own. Except for the fact that nobody else laughed. Very serious part of the story: true. Comical line to lighten the mood: also true. "People" taking the scene way too seriously: true as well. Lighten the fuck up, "people"!
Ending scene of the pilot comes to a close, and the lights come up.
"Chris, I need to get out of here."
"Why?"
"I'm very uncomfortable in these seats. We need to leave."
EmCee: "We'll take a ten minute break before the next episode."
Perfect! Several "people" went to use the bathroom to the left, while some worked their way downstairs to use the ones in the lobby. Chris and I waited in the main hallway for Cathy to use said facilities before leaving.
Chris: "You know, we probably could have just watched these on your widescreen TV at your place and saved a lot of aggravation."
Me: "I wholeheartedly agree."
As we walked back to the car, far from the prying ears of the gang of "people" we spent an hour and a half with, I had to say, "Boy, do I ever feel good about myself right now. I may like something that's a little out of the ordinary, but at least I don't look and act like that."
I also decided that it would be the last time I let Chris talk me into going somewhere with him. (see: Why I'll never be driving outside of the Garden State again.)
Random thought of the day:
Why are the food booths at sports arenas called "concession" stands? What exactly are they admitting defeat to?
So, it's been nearly a week since this incident occured, and it's already been covered by Chris in his blog, but I just had to give my account of the day. Also, I'd like to apologize for the gap in entries, and the fact that the last few tended to lean towards the melodramatic. I'm over things, now.
It was Saturday, and I had to work until 1:00. From there, I had to hightail it to Chris's abode, because the two of us plus Cathy were going to nerd out in Bryn Mawr, PA. A theater there was going to be playing six episodes of the (very) short-lived Fox sci-fi series, Firefly.
Three weeks prior:
Chris: "I found this thing on the internet that says they're showing Firefly on the big screen in PA. You're coming."
Me: "If you say so. I have to work, but I should be free in time. Bank's only open until 1."
Chris: "You're only open until 1."
Me: "Unless you get me drunk enough."
"Present" time: (meaning Saturday)
I wasn't sure how long the ride would be, and the show started at 3:00, so in an effort to save time, I told Chris I was going to change in his car on the way there. Apparently, I ended up changing on the way to Cathy's house, because we still had to pick her up. More time wasted. Oh well. The directions said we'd only need 50 minutes or so to get there, and it was only 1:30. We could risk it.
We all piled in, and the adventure began. Pretty uneventful getting there, except for the car two lengths in front of us at the EZ Pass lane that didn't have an EZ Pass on his car. You'd think that by now people would know how to navigate a toll booth with EZ Pass.
Pulling onto Route 30 East towards Bryn Mawr, I took a quick look at the directions. It said to pull on 30E, like we did, but that we were to end up at 824 Route 30 WEST. Hmmm, curious... To verify if we were going the right direction, I looked which way the numbers were going.
1024
Okay, good.
1026
Uh-oh.
1028
Shit...
"Chris, I think we're going the wrong way."
"We can't be. Directions say this way."
"No matter how much you want your precious Google directions to be right, I don't think they are."
I explained the situation fully, and he told me that we can't be going the wrong way. "Wait until we get into Bryn Mawr," he tells me.
To my astonishment, as soon as we pulled into town, the numbers went back to 1050 and starting decreasing in value. "...Sorry."
We found ourselves at the Bryn Mawr Film Institute, a crappy little theater that appeared to be mostly for college film courses. Pamphlets for upcoming classes hung in dividers on the wall next to posters of movies released within the last year or so. Upon entering the front door, you're immediately met with a hippie coffee shop that serves $4 muffins, as well as other ridiculously priced concoctions. Instead of a ceiling, there was a blue tarp protecting those in the main hallway from rain, snow, acts of God, etc.
Handing the receipt for our tickets (read: printout from Chris's computer) to the guy at the window, we were told to wait by the stairs. Ooh, it'll be shown in some balcony, away from the riff-raff, I thought.
Quite to the contrary, after being led upstairs, we were herded into what amounted to a conference room of sorts, with a widescreen, flat TV hanging from the ceiling on one side, and a slightly worn projector screen on the other. The chairs that we were forced into were placed uncomfortably close together. Uncomfortable all around, actually. High-backed, little padding. They expect us to sit here for six hours in these?!
Now, I'm a mildly attractive guy. I'll admit it. There's a part of me that looks in the mirror and says, "Hey, look at that sexy beast right there." I also know that I probably won't snag myself an Elisha Cuthbert or an Avril Lavigne, but I think I could do pretty well for myself. I'm also at the level where I can pick and choose most of the time. "You? No way," I could tell them. Pretty much average, I'd say. So, when I tell you that I was by far the most attractive person there (Chris and Cathy excluded. You're both hot) you'll know what I mean. I don't think I'd ever seen a more pathetic group of people in my life. And all of them were totally insane.
After sitting down, there were two "people" in front of us: a rotund lady, whom Chris has lovingly named Crazy Awkward Large Laughing Lady (or CALLL for short) and an amazingly ambiguous girl who looked more like Little Pete from The Adventures of Pete and Pete than she did a female. More on CALLL further down. Several of our "comrades" in the other seats were wearing shirts refering to the Browncoats (which is a group of characters in the show that was about to commence). Ambiguous Girl turns to CALLL and asks her something about said Browncoats. "Oh, I'm sure these young people would be better suited to answering that."
Chris and I cocked our eyebrows at each other. Ambiguous Girl mumbles the question to us. "What?" said Chris. "Zubba zubba zubba Browncoats...?" said Ambiguous Girl. "Are you trying to ask us a question?" said Chris. "Could you phrase the question in the form of a question, please?" I said. "Never mind," said Ambiguous Girl, and turned around. Nary a peep came from her while we were there.
As more "people" start to filter in, it's suggested that, instead of newcomers walking over others, everyone should just move down to fill in spots, and newcomers can fill in the end by the door. Claustrophobia kicks in right about now. Small seats, crammed together, surrounded by "people". That equals clenched fists and back spasms for Ian.
Suddenly, there was a flash to my left. One of the guys was actually taking pictures of us at this "event". Great, now there's going to be documented proof of me cavorting with this group of C.H.U.D.s Thanks, Chris.
Finally, they got the show started. "Hooray!" shouted the "people". Something was wrong, however. Everyone looked green. On the screen, not in the room. Apparently, they were using a faulty Red video wire. But, they just let it run. Halfway through the pilot episode (45 minutes, because it was a 2-part pilot) they finally decided to correct their mistake. "If you'll give us a few seconds, we'll switch DVD players." So, they did. Red abounded suddenly on both screens. "Hooray!" shouted the "people".
Anyway, back to CALLL. The reason she is named thusly is because not only would she laugh loudly, but in completely inappropriate spots. The rest of us would laugh together at things, then she would come in whenever the hell she felt like it. Towards the end of the episode, there's a scene where the preacher gets hit in the face with an iron by the lawman that's in their custody (please don't make me explain that). Being there, as she was, one would assume that she had seen the show at least once. Enough to know that it was coming. The scream that she released from her mouth made the whole audience jump. Completely uncalled for.
Speaking of uncalled for, one scene appears near the middle where Zoe is explaining what Reavers are and what they'll do if their ship was caught by said Reavers. "They'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sew our skins into their clothing. And if we're very lucky, they'll do it in that order." That is a very humorous line, and I wanted to let out at least a small chuckle of my own. Except for the fact that nobody else laughed. Very serious part of the story: true. Comical line to lighten the mood: also true. "People" taking the scene way too seriously: true as well. Lighten the fuck up, "people"!
Ending scene of the pilot comes to a close, and the lights come up.
"Chris, I need to get out of here."
"Why?"
"I'm very uncomfortable in these seats. We need to leave."
EmCee: "We'll take a ten minute break before the next episode."
Perfect! Several "people" went to use the bathroom to the left, while some worked their way downstairs to use the ones in the lobby. Chris and I waited in the main hallway for Cathy to use said facilities before leaving.
Chris: "You know, we probably could have just watched these on your widescreen TV at your place and saved a lot of aggravation."
Me: "I wholeheartedly agree."
As we walked back to the car, far from the prying ears of the gang of "people" we spent an hour and a half with, I had to say, "Boy, do I ever feel good about myself right now. I may like something that's a little out of the ordinary, but at least I don't look and act like that."
I also decided that it would be the last time I let Chris talk me into going somewhere with him. (see: Why I'll never be driving outside of the Garden State again.)
Random thought of the day:
Why are the food booths at sports arenas called "concession" stands? What exactly are they admitting defeat to?
A continuation.
Original post: March 30, 2007
I think some congratulations are in order. The doctors have ruled me "Bank-Free!" Incredibly liberating.
On that note, I'd like to update yesterday's lists after having paid attention to the customers today.
More people that I will miss at Farmers:
Nobody. I spent too much time thinking about who I'd put on the OTHER list, which is much easier.
More people I will NOT miss at Farmers:
That lady who used to come into Boyd's with the post office envelopes full of weird things for Bruce.
The lady who cashes her paycheck and requests four rolls of quarter that she never uses. She holds onto them and brings them back at the end of the month to deposit into her account.
The guys from Quick Stop that hold all their deposits for the week and bring them in at once and waste thirty minutes of my time.
The pervert who comes inside to see if Sherry's working, and then goes outside to the walk-up if she isn't. He stood in line for five minutes while I had no other customer because he didn't want a guy to wait on him.
The clerk from Fieldsboro who insists that we print an extra carbon copy of their deposits, but it's not good enough to just place it underneath when I print the first one, because it isn't "clear enough." I have to go back into my journal after each transaction and reprint it.
The foreign guy who runs the gas station down the street and makes a wire transfer everyday.
The guy who hands me his deposit, says "I want to deposit this," then hands me his checks and says, "and cash these." That's not what you're doing. You're depositing part of your checks and getting back cash. Really, I don't know why that one's so irritating, but it is.
The guy who comes to the walk-up every day and asks to change a 20 into a roll of quarters and ten singles. What the hell does he need that for every day!?
That guy's friend and his girlfriend who hang outside of the deli when I go on my lunch break everyday like Jay and Silent Bob.
The lady who calls me "Eon."
The lady who calls me "Ivan."
That chick that has a note on her account to make us cash her son's paycheck against her account without a hold even though he's not a signer. Why doesn't he just open his own fucking account?
The guy who comes in from Mastori's to make a TT&L payment. That's the only time he comes in. All deposits are done at the main branch. Why can't they take them there as well?
The kid who drives up in his Beamer, parks, then comes over to the walk-up window.
The lady that works at the Acme who doesn't drive and has her parents drive her to the window and she does her transactions from the backseat. She's thirty-something with at least two kids.
The people who don't take the time to learn ANY part of their account number. "I think it starts with 280..." Yeah, they all do that, buddy.
The people who smoke at the drive-thru, then hand you their transaction with the hand holding the cigarette so all the smoke goes right in your face.
The people who drive up to the window like they're in a hurry, but have nothing prepared. You've just turned a quick convenience into a waste of time 'cause you don't feel like getting off your lazy ass.
ANYONE who comes to the walk-up window. Totally pointless, in my opinion.
Finally, the people who have moved away from Burlington County, but still insist on banking with us. We get deposits mailed to us from California. Just find a bank in your part of the country already!
On that note, I've decided I'm going to be a dick and start mailing in my deposits as well, even though there's a branch exactly one block from my house.
I think some congratulations are in order. The doctors have ruled me "Bank-Free!" Incredibly liberating.
On that note, I'd like to update yesterday's lists after having paid attention to the customers today.
More people that I will miss at Farmers:
Nobody. I spent too much time thinking about who I'd put on the OTHER list, which is much easier.
More people I will NOT miss at Farmers:
That lady who used to come into Boyd's with the post office envelopes full of weird things for Bruce.
The lady who cashes her paycheck and requests four rolls of quarter that she never uses. She holds onto them and brings them back at the end of the month to deposit into her account.
The guys from Quick Stop that hold all their deposits for the week and bring them in at once and waste thirty minutes of my time.
The pervert who comes inside to see if Sherry's working, and then goes outside to the walk-up if she isn't. He stood in line for five minutes while I had no other customer because he didn't want a guy to wait on him.
The clerk from Fieldsboro who insists that we print an extra carbon copy of their deposits, but it's not good enough to just place it underneath when I print the first one, because it isn't "clear enough." I have to go back into my journal after each transaction and reprint it.
The foreign guy who runs the gas station down the street and makes a wire transfer everyday.
The guy who hands me his deposit, says "I want to deposit this," then hands me his checks and says, "and cash these." That's not what you're doing. You're depositing part of your checks and getting back cash. Really, I don't know why that one's so irritating, but it is.
The guy who comes to the walk-up every day and asks to change a 20 into a roll of quarters and ten singles. What the hell does he need that for every day!?
That guy's friend and his girlfriend who hang outside of the deli when I go on my lunch break everyday like Jay and Silent Bob.
The lady who calls me "Eon."
The lady who calls me "Ivan."
That chick that has a note on her account to make us cash her son's paycheck against her account without a hold even though he's not a signer. Why doesn't he just open his own fucking account?
The guy who comes in from Mastori's to make a TT&L payment. That's the only time he comes in. All deposits are done at the main branch. Why can't they take them there as well?
The kid who drives up in his Beamer, parks, then comes over to the walk-up window.
The lady that works at the Acme who doesn't drive and has her parents drive her to the window and she does her transactions from the backseat. She's thirty-something with at least two kids.
The people who don't take the time to learn ANY part of their account number. "I think it starts with 280..." Yeah, they all do that, buddy.
The people who smoke at the drive-thru, then hand you their transaction with the hand holding the cigarette so all the smoke goes right in your face.
The people who drive up to the window like they're in a hurry, but have nothing prepared. You've just turned a quick convenience into a waste of time 'cause you don't feel like getting off your lazy ass.
ANYONE who comes to the walk-up window. Totally pointless, in my opinion.
Finally, the people who have moved away from Burlington County, but still insist on banking with us. We get deposits mailed to us from California. Just find a bank in your part of the country already!
On that note, I've decided I'm going to be a dick and start mailing in my deposits as well, even though there's a branch exactly one block from my house.
A correction, a conversation, and a collection.
Original post: March 29, 2007
First off, I'd like to print a correction. In yesterday's blog, I mentioned that cats were having sex. I've since found out that it was Zach having sex. With the cat. Thank you.
Anyway, I think some good news would be good at this point. My I'veOnlyGotTwoMoreDaysofWorkingatMyCrappyJob-itis has been upgraded by doctors to I'veOnlyGotONEMoreDayofWorkingatMyCrappyJob-itis. Yes, the inflammation has gone down considerably, thanks for asking.
Speaking of Farmers, I got to speak with my regional manager today about my career choice. She didn't try to talk me out of it or anything, just wanted to inform me. Much like my father did not four days ago. She explained that her son worked overnight at Target and he only lasted two weeks. Not that I'd quit after that amount of time either, but she wanted me to be aware that they're not going to be hiring anyone until after the Beneficial merger is settled in for good. So, in case I did want to come back, she wouldn't be able to help me until at least September. That was awfully nice of her. She also said she was gonna talk to Zach about going to Commerce, and I gave him the head's up.
(Ed. Note: If I haven't given Zach the head's up before he reads this, Zach: Fiona's gonna talk to you about quitting and going to Commerce. Nootch.)
After that nice little chat she mentioned that she just wanted to make sure I'm happy. She had heard from many people that I had been depressed lately, which is odd, 'cause I didn't think I was. I'm generally quiet all the time. Was I being extra-quiet and introspective? Not only did she hear it from my branch, but she said other branches have said it too. Was my "depression" really that noticeable that people who don't see me on a regular basis were concerned as well? Oh well...
For my last bit here, I'd like to leave you with a couple of lists I've made. Unfortunately, to protect their privacy, I won't be allowed to mention them by name, so I will need to describe them to you. Enjoy!
People that I will miss at Farmers: (Somehow this list sounds more chauvinistic and shorter than I anticipated.)
My co-workers. (Except Zach)
That one blonde who works at the salon down the street (I assume) and comes in for change all the time.
The older (than I am) redhead that I've had a crush on since I started there, but has since gotten into heroin or something and now looks like Ghost Rider. (flaming skull, get it?!)
The kids from Boyd's. (Except Kate)
Any girl that wears something low-cut in the summer and I can successfully negotiate the "short-drawer" with. (Zach and John know what I'm talking about)
The ladies that work for the City of Bordentown. They're all so nice.
The old guy who comes in the morning from EJA. He's awesome.
The Bordentown City Public Works guys. Hilarious.
People that I will NOT miss at Farmers:
The deaf guy who parks in the handicapped spot.
The lady who comes first thing in the morning and three more times throughout the day.
The guy with the lazy eye who only comes to the walk-up and thinks I'm his "buddy."
ANYBODY who thinks I'm their "buddy..."
The old whore who gets her statements mailed to our branch and never picks them up, and who interupts you on the phone when you're trying to recite the novel they make you say when answering it.
The people who come to the drive-thru asking for a printout without calling ahead.
The people who get a printout at least once a week.
The people who ask for their balance after cashing a check from their account.
The Bordentown City cops. Well, most of them.
The people who come in for their social security checks once a month and no other time.
The people who want $700 in "small bills."
The guy whose wife died and he refused to take her name off the account, and henceforth bounced checks due to a "Deceased" flag on his account, then proceeded to yell at me on the phone when I tried to explain calmly what happened. He's just a dick.
The people who bring ten transactions to the drive-thru. The limit is three.
The people who don't write their account number on the back of their checks no matter how many times you tell them.
The people who complain about being charged a fee for bouncing a check. That's why it's there: to deter you from doing it again. We almost always reverse the fee, and it pisses me off.
And so forth. I could go on, but my typing fingers are killing me. Maybe I'll put some more in another blog if I get enough positive feedback from this.
First off, I'd like to print a correction. In yesterday's blog, I mentioned that cats were having sex. I've since found out that it was Zach having sex. With the cat. Thank you.
Anyway, I think some good news would be good at this point. My I'veOnlyGotTwoMoreDaysofWorkingatMyCrappyJob-itis has been upgraded by doctors to I'veOnlyGotONEMoreDayofWorkingatMyCrappyJob-itis. Yes, the inflammation has gone down considerably, thanks for asking.
Speaking of Farmers, I got to speak with my regional manager today about my career choice. She didn't try to talk me out of it or anything, just wanted to inform me. Much like my father did not four days ago. She explained that her son worked overnight at Target and he only lasted two weeks. Not that I'd quit after that amount of time either, but she wanted me to be aware that they're not going to be hiring anyone until after the Beneficial merger is settled in for good. So, in case I did want to come back, she wouldn't be able to help me until at least September. That was awfully nice of her. She also said she was gonna talk to Zach about going to Commerce, and I gave him the head's up.
(Ed. Note: If I haven't given Zach the head's up before he reads this, Zach: Fiona's gonna talk to you about quitting and going to Commerce. Nootch.)
After that nice little chat she mentioned that she just wanted to make sure I'm happy. She had heard from many people that I had been depressed lately, which is odd, 'cause I didn't think I was. I'm generally quiet all the time. Was I being extra-quiet and introspective? Not only did she hear it from my branch, but she said other branches have said it too. Was my "depression" really that noticeable that people who don't see me on a regular basis were concerned as well? Oh well...
For my last bit here, I'd like to leave you with a couple of lists I've made. Unfortunately, to protect their privacy, I won't be allowed to mention them by name, so I will need to describe them to you. Enjoy!
People that I will miss at Farmers: (Somehow this list sounds more chauvinistic and shorter than I anticipated.)
My co-workers. (Except Zach)
That one blonde who works at the salon down the street (I assume) and comes in for change all the time.
The older (than I am) redhead that I've had a crush on since I started there, but has since gotten into heroin or something and now looks like Ghost Rider. (flaming skull, get it?!)
The kids from Boyd's. (Except Kate)
Any girl that wears something low-cut in the summer and I can successfully negotiate the "short-drawer" with. (Zach and John know what I'm talking about)
The ladies that work for the City of Bordentown. They're all so nice.
The old guy who comes in the morning from EJA. He's awesome.
The Bordentown City Public Works guys. Hilarious.
People that I will NOT miss at Farmers:
The deaf guy who parks in the handicapped spot.
The lady who comes first thing in the morning and three more times throughout the day.
The guy with the lazy eye who only comes to the walk-up and thinks I'm his "buddy."
ANYBODY who thinks I'm their "buddy..."
The old whore who gets her statements mailed to our branch and never picks them up, and who interupts you on the phone when you're trying to recite the novel they make you say when answering it.
The people who come to the drive-thru asking for a printout without calling ahead.
The people who get a printout at least once a week.
The people who ask for their balance after cashing a check from their account.
The Bordentown City cops. Well, most of them.
The people who come in for their social security checks once a month and no other time.
The people who want $700 in "small bills."
The guy whose wife died and he refused to take her name off the account, and henceforth bounced checks due to a "Deceased" flag on his account, then proceeded to yell at me on the phone when I tried to explain calmly what happened. He's just a dick.
The people who bring ten transactions to the drive-thru. The limit is three.
The people who don't write their account number on the back of their checks no matter how many times you tell them.
The people who complain about being charged a fee for bouncing a check. That's why it's there: to deter you from doing it again. We almost always reverse the fee, and it pisses me off.
And so forth. I could go on, but my typing fingers are killing me. Maybe I'll put some more in another blog if I get enough positive feedback from this.
I think I've got Spring Fever...
Original post: March 28, 2007
....No, wait. Hay Fever. That's it. Or maybe I'veOnlyGotTwoMoreDaysofWorkingatMyCrappyJob-itis. But that would imply I've got swelling of my I'veOnlyGotTwoMoreDaysofWorkingatMyCrappyJob... Never mind.
Has it really been over a month since my last post? You guys must be starved for all the news of Ian that's fit to print.
Like I said, Farmers and Mechanics will no longer be my employer after Friday. I'll be working overnight at Target, so, no, I can't get you a discount while I'm working. That would be nice, wouldn't it? T.S.
Dave yelled at me for doing that, too. "I thought you'd be better off applying at another bank. They'd hire you in a heartbeat with your experience, and you'd be good at it." I have no doubt about either of those, however, I don't want to be a banker anymore. Or deal with asshole customers. Hence, the reason for going overnight. Lifting boxes to help get the muscles I so desperately want, plus the added bonus of not listening to people ask me why they bounced a check for the thirtieth time. Seriously, people, you should keep better track of your purchases. And no, asking for a printout of your transactions everyday does not count as "keeping better track." I don't want to do that, either.
But, I digress. I've been having the worst time trying to sleep this last week, maybe week and a half. Most likely it's from stress of changing jobs, amongst other things. Last night, however, there was definitely another cause. Through my open windows I could hear the sounds of cats either having sex or killing each other. Maybe both? Who knows...
And yes, I do know I've titled my journal "Adventures in (Not) Dating," and I would discuss what's happening in that department, but really, I don't have that much to say. Plus, I don't want to jinx myself.
Anyway, Legend of Zelda is calling my name. Gotta go play it. Thanks for visiting, faithful reader!
....No, wait. Hay Fever. That's it. Or maybe I'veOnlyGotTwoMoreDaysofWorkingatMyCrappyJob-itis. But that would imply I've got swelling of my I'veOnlyGotTwoMoreDaysofWorkingatMyCrappyJob... Never mind.
Has it really been over a month since my last post? You guys must be starved for all the news of Ian that's fit to print.
Like I said, Farmers and Mechanics will no longer be my employer after Friday. I'll be working overnight at Target, so, no, I can't get you a discount while I'm working. That would be nice, wouldn't it? T.S.
Dave yelled at me for doing that, too. "I thought you'd be better off applying at another bank. They'd hire you in a heartbeat with your experience, and you'd be good at it." I have no doubt about either of those, however, I don't want to be a banker anymore. Or deal with asshole customers. Hence, the reason for going overnight. Lifting boxes to help get the muscles I so desperately want, plus the added bonus of not listening to people ask me why they bounced a check for the thirtieth time. Seriously, people, you should keep better track of your purchases. And no, asking for a printout of your transactions everyday does not count as "keeping better track." I don't want to do that, either.
But, I digress. I've been having the worst time trying to sleep this last week, maybe week and a half. Most likely it's from stress of changing jobs, amongst other things. Last night, however, there was definitely another cause. Through my open windows I could hear the sounds of cats either having sex or killing each other. Maybe both? Who knows...
And yes, I do know I've titled my journal "Adventures in (Not) Dating," and I would discuss what's happening in that department, but really, I don't have that much to say. Plus, I don't want to jinx myself.
Anyway, Legend of Zelda is calling my name. Gotta go play it. Thanks for visiting, faithful reader!
The more things change...
Original post: February 25, 2007
I was doing laundry at my parents' house today, and my mother had been cleaning out a drawer of old pictures and things. She came across a note I had written her when I was rather young and she felt compelled to show it to me. I refused at first, thinking it would be something horribly embarrassing, but eventually caved. This is what I wrote:
Dear Mom,
I'm sorry you have to work to much, but when Dad's not here, you still have me to love. And when your not here, I have to try and like Jeff.
Love,
Ian
I'm adorable. I also noted that my handwriting looks exactly the same as it did then. I write like a seven year old.
I was doing laundry at my parents' house today, and my mother had been cleaning out a drawer of old pictures and things. She came across a note I had written her when I was rather young and she felt compelled to show it to me. I refused at first, thinking it would be something horribly embarrassing, but eventually caved. This is what I wrote:
Dear Mom,
I'm sorry you have to work to much, but when Dad's not here, you still have me to love. And when your not here, I have to try and like Jeff.
Love,
Ian
I'm adorable. I also noted that my handwriting looks exactly the same as it did then. I write like a seven year old.
Repercussions.
Original post: February 25, 2007
I'm sure by now that most, if not all, of you have seen the commercial where the little girl is shopping with her mom and wants to get the can of Chef Boyardee , but her mom says no and puts it back, then the can falls off the shelf and rolls all the way to her house. Am I the only person who noticed that she's probably going to get accused of stealing that can and punished accordingly? That can's a dick, getting that little girl in trouble like that. Who does he think he is?
I'm sure by now that most, if not all, of you have seen the commercial where the little girl is shopping with her mom and wants to get the can of Chef Boyardee , but her mom says no and puts it back, then the can falls off the shelf and rolls all the way to her house. Am I the only person who noticed that she's probably going to get accused of stealing that can and punished accordingly? That can's a dick, getting that little girl in trouble like that. Who does he think he is?
Abusing the system.
Original post: February 22, 2007
At Farmer's and Mechanic's Bank, we happen to have a customer that is deaf. There's nothing funny about that. It's actually kind of sad that he can't appreciate the sound of a classical symphony, or hear perfect comedic timing. I do, however, find him to be a jerk, not only because he insists on reminding all of us of the fact that he's deaf every single time that he comes in, but also because he parks in the spot reserved for handicapped people. I realize that he is handicapped, obviously, but that spot is reserved for people who have a difficult time moving long distances. That's why it's closest to the building. This guy, while he can't hear if there is a car coming at him, is certainly able to walk the full length of the parking lot if necessary. Furthermore, he has no license plates or tags of any kind indicating that he is, in fact, handicapped in anyway. Yet he still parks there. Am I wrong in thinking that he shouldn't be allowed to park there? The symbol on the sign is a guy in a wheelchair for Christ's sake! Also, I find it amusing that he wears earmuffs. Don't ask why.
At Farmer's and Mechanic's Bank, we happen to have a customer that is deaf. There's nothing funny about that. It's actually kind of sad that he can't appreciate the sound of a classical symphony, or hear perfect comedic timing. I do, however, find him to be a jerk, not only because he insists on reminding all of us of the fact that he's deaf every single time that he comes in, but also because he parks in the spot reserved for handicapped people. I realize that he is handicapped, obviously, but that spot is reserved for people who have a difficult time moving long distances. That's why it's closest to the building. This guy, while he can't hear if there is a car coming at him, is certainly able to walk the full length of the parking lot if necessary. Furthermore, he has no license plates or tags of any kind indicating that he is, in fact, handicapped in anyway. Yet he still parks there. Am I wrong in thinking that he shouldn't be allowed to park there? The symbol on the sign is a guy in a wheelchair for Christ's sake! Also, I find it amusing that he wears earmuffs. Don't ask why.
Standards.
Original post: February 7, 2007
I was informed in yesterday's blog that I didn't mention my standards for picking a date. So everyone can understand where I'm coming from, I'll list them here:
1) On the incredibly superficial level, they have to be at least mildly attractive. Remember, though, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder (me).
2) They need a sense of humor that parallels mine. This will include a wide knowledge of pop culture references.
3) Intelligence. I don't want to have to explain everything to you. Unless it's something complicated, and I'll get to show off.
4) A passion for reading. We could spend our evenings with a good book. No, not THE good book...
5) A knowledge of fine wines.
6) An understanding of Quantum Physics.
7) The ability to play the accordian.
8) Without their hands.
9) An ex-boyfriend who was a midget.
10) A picture of said boyfriend as proof.
11) A pet hippopotamus named Spartacus.
I don't see why that's so hard to find. People aren't trying hard enough to aspire to my tastes.
I was informed in yesterday's blog that I didn't mention my standards for picking a date. So everyone can understand where I'm coming from, I'll list them here:
1) On the incredibly superficial level, they have to be at least mildly attractive. Remember, though, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder (me).
2) They need a sense of humor that parallels mine. This will include a wide knowledge of pop culture references.
3) Intelligence. I don't want to have to explain everything to you. Unless it's something complicated, and I'll get to show off.
4) A passion for reading. We could spend our evenings with a good book. No, not THE good book...
5) A knowledge of fine wines.
6) An understanding of Quantum Physics.
7) The ability to play the accordian.
8) Without their hands.
9) An ex-boyfriend who was a midget.
10) A picture of said boyfriend as proof.
11) A pet hippopotamus named Spartacus.
I don't see why that's so hard to find. People aren't trying hard enough to aspire to my tastes.
A few reasons why I am the self-proclaimed Dateless Wonder.
Original post: February 6, 2007
For the longest time, I thought that girls weren't interested in me because I wasn't funny, smart, or attractive. I was thinking earlier today, (I do that a lot these days) and I realized that's not the case. While I may have the characteristics listed above, as well as charm (and modesty), I've come to the obvious conclusion that women don't look for those qualities in a man, otherwise they'd be dating me. See, anytime I find someone who comes close to my standards, they are always happily dating someone else. Always. Happily. Obviously, their tastes in the opposite sex involve neanderthal douchebags whose idea of a good time involves beer and scratching. Why be with someone who can make you laugh, make you dinner, and make you feel good about yourself when you can have someone who'll hit you in the face with a pan when you're out of line. That's okay. I've already decided that I'm perfectly comfortable being single. Even though there's still that part of me that doesn't want to be alone, it's much quieter than it used to be.
Speaking of my standards, I've been told by one or two people that my problem is having ones that are too high. I have a very specific idea of what I'm looking for in a girlfriend, and I don't see anything wrong with that. Still, they insist I'm being too "picky." Do you agree? Should I lower my standards because my idea of perfection seems to be just out of reach? Or should I keep at it until that perfect idea manifests itself?
Random thought of the day: Smooth Jazz has to be the love spunk of Satan himself. Seriously, if I hear the theme songs from Taxi and Hill Street Blues one more time, I'm going to rape someone.
For the longest time, I thought that girls weren't interested in me because I wasn't funny, smart, or attractive. I was thinking earlier today, (I do that a lot these days) and I realized that's not the case. While I may have the characteristics listed above, as well as charm (and modesty), I've come to the obvious conclusion that women don't look for those qualities in a man, otherwise they'd be dating me. See, anytime I find someone who comes close to my standards, they are always happily dating someone else. Always. Happily. Obviously, their tastes in the opposite sex involve neanderthal douchebags whose idea of a good time involves beer and scratching. Why be with someone who can make you laugh, make you dinner, and make you feel good about yourself when you can have someone who'll hit you in the face with a pan when you're out of line. That's okay. I've already decided that I'm perfectly comfortable being single. Even though there's still that part of me that doesn't want to be alone, it's much quieter than it used to be.
Speaking of my standards, I've been told by one or two people that my problem is having ones that are too high. I have a very specific idea of what I'm looking for in a girlfriend, and I don't see anything wrong with that. Still, they insist I'm being too "picky." Do you agree? Should I lower my standards because my idea of perfection seems to be just out of reach? Or should I keep at it until that perfect idea manifests itself?
Random thought of the day: Smooth Jazz has to be the love spunk of Satan himself. Seriously, if I hear the theme songs from Taxi and Hill Street Blues one more time, I'm going to rape someone.
Hypothetically speaking...
Original post: December 31, 2006
Time for some reader feedback. I'm going to pose to you a totally hypothetical situation, and I'd like to hear how you would handle it.
Let's say that you met this girl a while back. A friend of a friend. She seemed really great, and you were sure that she felt the same about you. But, after several unsuccessful attempts at asking her out (she didn't respond to any emails or instant messages, even though you indicated that it was in fact you, and you tried not to sound like a stalker of some type, but it may have come across that way anyway) she started dating someone else. After said incident, you figured she really wasn't interested in you after all, and you kind of stopped talking to her. A few months later, your mutual friend informs you that she did like you, and nobody really knows why she ended up dating that other guy. It just sort of happened.
Anyway, you recently found out that the two of them have broken up, after about a year and a half. You'd like to talk to her, but you feel it would be kind of awkward and obvious what your intentions were, after a year and a half of silence. Would you try to get ahold of her, or would you leave it alone, as if it were not meant to be, which is the impression that you got in the first place?
Random thought: I hope she's not reading this right now.... Hypothetically speaking, of course...
Time for some reader feedback. I'm going to pose to you a totally hypothetical situation, and I'd like to hear how you would handle it.
Let's say that you met this girl a while back. A friend of a friend. She seemed really great, and you were sure that she felt the same about you. But, after several unsuccessful attempts at asking her out (she didn't respond to any emails or instant messages, even though you indicated that it was in fact you, and you tried not to sound like a stalker of some type, but it may have come across that way anyway) she started dating someone else. After said incident, you figured she really wasn't interested in you after all, and you kind of stopped talking to her. A few months later, your mutual friend informs you that she did like you, and nobody really knows why she ended up dating that other guy. It just sort of happened.
Anyway, you recently found out that the two of them have broken up, after about a year and a half. You'd like to talk to her, but you feel it would be kind of awkward and obvious what your intentions were, after a year and a half of silence. Would you try to get ahold of her, or would you leave it alone, as if it were not meant to be, which is the impression that you got in the first place?
Random thought: I hope she's not reading this right now.... Hypothetically speaking, of course...
Because I was told to.
Original post: October 24, 2006
Due to both the lack of personal stories and a high demand from my roommate to post a new blog, I've decided to write one about a funny dream I had one time.
Now, this was several months ago, but while I was at work, some people came in with kittens in a basket that they wished to give away. I was down in the drive, and Zach told me to come look at them.
"Oh, how adorable!" I exclaimed. "I really shouldn't bring these home. Our landlord doesn't know about the eight we already have."
So, after I petted the kitties and gave them a lot of attention, the kitten-vendors went on their merry way.
"Dude, that guy gave you the funniest look."
"What?"
"He must've thought you were gay."
"Why do you say that?"
"'Cause of the way you said the kittens were adorable."
"I see..."
"Also, you're wearing that purple shirt."
"Well, of course, those two small instances make me gay in a stranger's mind. Whatever."
Anyway, that night, I had a dream where I was at a party with a bunch of friends and family. I kept trying to talk to the ladies and try to get my hands in some of their panties, but all they wanted to talk to me about was how I came out of the closet and how brave I was for it. I had no idea where they had got that idea from. After a few minutes, I started getting annoyed and screamed out, "Why does everybody think I'm gay?! I'M NOT GAY!!!"
Then I woke up. I told some people the next day at work, and it got quiet right before I said the "I'm not gay" part.
Sherry: "What are you yelling about down there?"
Me: "Sorry. Was that loud?"
Sherry: "Yeah, you're too funny."
Me: "Well, I'm not."
Sherry: "Funny?"
Me: "No, gay."
Don't get me wrong, I have no question about my sexuality, but every once in a while, I get the feeling that the ladies might think I don't swing their way. Anyone wanna prove my theory wrong?
Due to both the lack of personal stories and a high demand from my roommate to post a new blog, I've decided to write one about a funny dream I had one time.
Now, this was several months ago, but while I was at work, some people came in with kittens in a basket that they wished to give away. I was down in the drive, and Zach told me to come look at them.
"Oh, how adorable!" I exclaimed. "I really shouldn't bring these home. Our landlord doesn't know about the eight we already have."
So, after I petted the kitties and gave them a lot of attention, the kitten-vendors went on their merry way.
"Dude, that guy gave you the funniest look."
"What?"
"He must've thought you were gay."
"Why do you say that?"
"'Cause of the way you said the kittens were adorable."
"I see..."
"Also, you're wearing that purple shirt."
"Well, of course, those two small instances make me gay in a stranger's mind. Whatever."
Anyway, that night, I had a dream where I was at a party with a bunch of friends and family. I kept trying to talk to the ladies and try to get my hands in some of their panties, but all they wanted to talk to me about was how I came out of the closet and how brave I was for it. I had no idea where they had got that idea from. After a few minutes, I started getting annoyed and screamed out, "Why does everybody think I'm gay?! I'M NOT GAY!!!"
Then I woke up. I told some people the next day at work, and it got quiet right before I said the "I'm not gay" part.
Sherry: "What are you yelling about down there?"
Me: "Sorry. Was that loud?"
Sherry: "Yeah, you're too funny."
Me: "Well, I'm not."
Sherry: "Funny?"
Me: "No, gay."
Don't get me wrong, I have no question about my sexuality, but every once in a while, I get the feeling that the ladies might think I don't swing their way. Anyone wanna prove my theory wrong?
My life's in the shitter right now, and if you don't mind, I'd like to stew a bit.
Original post: August 24, 2006
I really wish I knew why I'm the way I am. Talking to girls has never been easy for me, but I've managed to do it in the past. I've been in a slump for the past five years or so. No matter how much I want to think so, I've never gotten myself back into the dating field. I've written blogs about why that is in the past, so I'm not going to repeat myself here.
My biggest problem lately has been the fact that I get high expectations whenever I find a girl even the slightest bit attractive. It doesn't help that my friends are there to boost those expectations even higher. When I find out they have a boyfriend, I crash like I just quit Heroin cold turkey. Everything always seems to collapse around it, even though it really had nothing to do with my life. I put everything up on this pedestal, and then it topples over after one meaningless fact is revealed.
Well, no more. I've had it. No more actively searching for girls that I know are not going to have any interest in me. I can't continue to live my life as if someone's going to miraculously decide they want to spend the rest of their life with yours truly. Fuck all of you. I'll die alone, thank you very much.
I really wish I knew why I'm the way I am. Talking to girls has never been easy for me, but I've managed to do it in the past. I've been in a slump for the past five years or so. No matter how much I want to think so, I've never gotten myself back into the dating field. I've written blogs about why that is in the past, so I'm not going to repeat myself here.
My biggest problem lately has been the fact that I get high expectations whenever I find a girl even the slightest bit attractive. It doesn't help that my friends are there to boost those expectations even higher. When I find out they have a boyfriend, I crash like I just quit Heroin cold turkey. Everything always seems to collapse around it, even though it really had nothing to do with my life. I put everything up on this pedestal, and then it topples over after one meaningless fact is revealed.
Well, no more. I've had it. No more actively searching for girls that I know are not going to have any interest in me. I can't continue to live my life as if someone's going to miraculously decide they want to spend the rest of their life with yours truly. Fuck all of you. I'll die alone, thank you very much.
The only person keeping you from doing anything is you.
Original post: August 10, 2006
After working until 7:00 tonight, I was quite content to sit in my room and watch DVD's the rest of the evening. Ralph had already asked if I wanted to go to Don Pablo's after his meeting, but I thought it would be too late, so I declined. At 8:40, he texted me, asking if I wanted to go then. I had some major thinking to do. Greasy food that will make me sick in the morning, or Beast Wars on DVD.
"Sure, let's go to Don Pablo's. Come get me."
Upon arrival, Ralph checked to see how much money was left on the gift card he received. He stated there was only $11 left, and I should pick up the rest.
"I thought you were supposed to be treating me with that."
"I was, but I must've spent it on other people."
Great, I thought I was getting a free meal tonight. So, we go in and get a table. We ordered our very simple meals, just like always. Then, Ralph lays this on me:
"You know, Diana and I are becoming real friendly."
"Who?"
"The waitress here that you like."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I came here with Anna the other day, and Diana came over and started talking to us. She wasn't even our waitress."
"How nice for you."
"Something wrong?"
"People just flock to you. It's incredible. There's some days where I wish I could be like you... Only better looking."
"Well, you gotta be more outgoing. Annoying, even."
"Yeah, well, I can't."
"Why not? What's stopping you?"
"Upbringing?"
"No. You. The only person keeping you from doing anything is you."
That's the truest statement I've ever heard. Even truer than, "This is a sentence." Take this situation, for instance. Yeah, I've got a crush on Diana, but I'm not going to do anything about it. Why? Because I know she has a boyfriend. "What if you didn't know that fact?" you may ask. Well, I would still be nervous as anything trying to talk to her, but I could overcome that. That's not a problem. I've been getting better about that sort of thing. However, I know she's already seeing somebody, so I don't want to be the reason behind someone's breakup. That would be something I'd always feel guilty about if it were to happen. So, I just avoid it at all costs. Which is most of my problem, I think. I don't want to be single anymore, and I've already proven that there are no single girls my age. But, I don't want to be a catalyst in something that would ultimately make me happy, but hurt somebody else. I can't seem to get out of this circular track I call my mind.
Anyway, Ralph spent the rest of our time there trying to get Diana's attention by yelling, "Diana's a big, fat loser!" I suggested we get the waiter from the next table over to go tell her for him.
"That's a great idea, 'Excuse me, I know you're not our waiter, but would you tell Diana she's a big fat loser? Thanks.'"
"That would be great."
Right about then, I started to eat slowly, feeling like everything on my inside wanted to be on my outside. Ralph became concerned.
"You gonna throw up or something?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"That would be terrible. To finally get Diana to come over here, and have you promptly vomit on her."
"But, she'd remember me, then."
"Nothing more memorable than getting puked on."
Our waitress: "Everything all right over here?"
I proceeded to revisit my dinner all over her.
At least, I would have, if I knew how to take a perfect comedic cue like that one.
So, as we were waiting for the bill, Diana finally came over, and I spent the whole time avoiding eye contact. The whole situation depressed me, and I just didn't want to talk to her right then. I wanted to get out of the building as quickly as my legs would take me. I'm sure the way I was acting totally ruined any kind of good impression I may have made on her at any point in the past, but I don't really care anymore. I've already decided that I'm not going to do anything about this. That's just my nature. I can't change it.
I want to just sleep the rest of my life away.
After working until 7:00 tonight, I was quite content to sit in my room and watch DVD's the rest of the evening. Ralph had already asked if I wanted to go to Don Pablo's after his meeting, but I thought it would be too late, so I declined. At 8:40, he texted me, asking if I wanted to go then. I had some major thinking to do. Greasy food that will make me sick in the morning, or Beast Wars on DVD.
"Sure, let's go to Don Pablo's. Come get me."
Upon arrival, Ralph checked to see how much money was left on the gift card he received. He stated there was only $11 left, and I should pick up the rest.
"I thought you were supposed to be treating me with that."
"I was, but I must've spent it on other people."
Great, I thought I was getting a free meal tonight. So, we go in and get a table. We ordered our very simple meals, just like always. Then, Ralph lays this on me:
"You know, Diana and I are becoming real friendly."
"Who?"
"The waitress here that you like."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I came here with Anna the other day, and Diana came over and started talking to us. She wasn't even our waitress."
"How nice for you."
"Something wrong?"
"People just flock to you. It's incredible. There's some days where I wish I could be like you... Only better looking."
"Well, you gotta be more outgoing. Annoying, even."
"Yeah, well, I can't."
"Why not? What's stopping you?"
"Upbringing?"
"No. You. The only person keeping you from doing anything is you."
That's the truest statement I've ever heard. Even truer than, "This is a sentence." Take this situation, for instance. Yeah, I've got a crush on Diana, but I'm not going to do anything about it. Why? Because I know she has a boyfriend. "What if you didn't know that fact?" you may ask. Well, I would still be nervous as anything trying to talk to her, but I could overcome that. That's not a problem. I've been getting better about that sort of thing. However, I know she's already seeing somebody, so I don't want to be the reason behind someone's breakup. That would be something I'd always feel guilty about if it were to happen. So, I just avoid it at all costs. Which is most of my problem, I think. I don't want to be single anymore, and I've already proven that there are no single girls my age. But, I don't want to be a catalyst in something that would ultimately make me happy, but hurt somebody else. I can't seem to get out of this circular track I call my mind.
Anyway, Ralph spent the rest of our time there trying to get Diana's attention by yelling, "Diana's a big, fat loser!" I suggested we get the waiter from the next table over to go tell her for him.
"That's a great idea, 'Excuse me, I know you're not our waiter, but would you tell Diana she's a big fat loser? Thanks.'"
"That would be great."
Right about then, I started to eat slowly, feeling like everything on my inside wanted to be on my outside. Ralph became concerned.
"You gonna throw up or something?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"That would be terrible. To finally get Diana to come over here, and have you promptly vomit on her."
"But, she'd remember me, then."
"Nothing more memorable than getting puked on."
Our waitress: "Everything all right over here?"
I proceeded to revisit my dinner all over her.
At least, I would have, if I knew how to take a perfect comedic cue like that one.
So, as we were waiting for the bill, Diana finally came over, and I spent the whole time avoiding eye contact. The whole situation depressed me, and I just didn't want to talk to her right then. I wanted to get out of the building as quickly as my legs would take me. I'm sure the way I was acting totally ruined any kind of good impression I may have made on her at any point in the past, but I don't really care anymore. I've already decided that I'm not going to do anything about this. That's just my nature. I can't change it.
I want to just sleep the rest of my life away.
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