Today I was an ass...

But, believe me, it was unintentional, and I regret it.

One of my best friends gave me my birthday gift today and I looked like an ungrateful prick when I accepted it.

Now let's backtrack a bit. Steve and Roman, my coworkers and best friends, have kicked ass when it comes to gifts. Before any of my other friends get in a hussy, you guys kick ass with the gifts, too, but this isn't about you - that will be another blog. Anyway, for my birthday last year, these two cats got together and bought me an X-Box. That's the type of friends they are.

Another thing to keep in mind before I go into this is Steve is great at thinking ahead. He's probably one of the best people I've ever worked with because of his ability to see things that, well, just aren't there (or aren't there yet) -- and planning for them for when they are there.

Me? I'm not quite as good. Hell, I try, but when I'm trying to think what's going to happen one week down the road, Steve already has the plan for the next year.

So he came in today and called me over to his desk. I knew he had picked me up a CD case from Microcenter for me, so I was expecting that. What I wasn't expecting was my birthday present. He handed me that as well.

It was this iPod car charger/FM modulator. Basically, you put it all together, plug it into the cigarette lighter, find an unused FM frequency, drop in your iPod and you got your tunes through your car speakers while it's iCharging.

Well, the look on my face when I saw it originally must have said something because he immediately said, "Dude! You don't want that!"

"My stereo is an MP3 player." I said. Still not thinking.

"Not a 40gig one," he replied.

I looked pretty ungrateful, but it wasn't that. I was just confused. I felt it was like giving someone a portable CD adapter for their car when their car had a CD player. But I only thought that because I wasn't thinking ahead. Call me stupid.

Well, good thing Steve was doing the thinking.

When I got to my truck after work, I put it all together, found a frequency on the FM dial and iPowered it up. Oh Lord, is this thing gonna come in handy. Quite simply, it rocks, and I wish I had seen its potential when I first got it.

Put it this way, a CD will hold 750mb of music. My iPod holds 40Gigs. And playlists. I have unlimited iMusic from numerous sources. I should have never have doubted my boy.

So, Steve, I apologize. I apologize a thousand times. I know I said it to you earlier, but here it is for the world to see. I feel like an ass. I should have never have doubted you. Once again you came through with a kick ass gift. And I thank you for it.

It's rare I post twice the same day...

As a matter of fact, I can't really remember I time that I have (posting pics doesn't count).

But what happened today was so funny and so cool that I had to get it out there.

So, kids are on spring break, so every family on the east coast decided to spend time in DC this week. And with complete disregard to those of us that actually have to work. What makes it worse is they obviously never bothered to read my post on the metro rules.

Anyway, I was stuck behind not one, not two, but FOUR families today trying to figure out how to use the metro tickets to go through the gates. Thank God I had my headphones because Iron Maiden was, ironically enough, keeping me fairly calm. Also, I could hear the mumblings of my fellow DC employeed brothers and sisters, so I knew I wasn't in this Hell alone.

Eventually, they figured out how to put the card through the slot that says "CARD HERE" (with a picture) and the family of 40 started plowing through.

As I was finally going through the gate, one thought went through my mind.

"Fucking tourists."

Wait a minute. That was verbal. And I don't sound like a woman.

I turned my head I saw a woman with headphones on, too. Her mouth formed a little "o" because I don't think she realized she could be heard.

I just busted out laughing.

"Fucking tourists." She said again.

We both laughed and went to our seperate trains.

That would have been a good ending to a good day if when I got to my truck about 45 minutes later I had my keys.

But, nope, I left them at work.

So when I could have been home by 6, I got home at 8:30.

But you know what? It was still a good day.

Sometimes, some people don't suck.

Out with the old...

Money can't buy you happiness.

Who ever said that should be punched in the face.

Then, when they go to the hospital for the concussion I gave them, we'll see how happy they are when the hospital refuses treatement for not having money.

Money can buy you any damn thing you want. You just have to know how to spend it. The guy who said it can't buy you happiness was the worst investor ever and should have kept his mouth shut.

You can't have your cake and eat it to.

Huh? What? Excuse me? What in the fuck, exactly, does that mean?

"Happy Birthday, Johnny! 7 is an important age! Whoa, there, Johnny! What are you doing with that cake? Son, you can't have your cake and eat it too!"

Sounds like somone should call CPS on mommie or daddy dearest. Dicks.

Never put off tomorrow what you can do today.

Shutup asskisser. Some of my best term papers were written the day they were due.

A penny saved is a penny earned.

I have 3,000 pennies in a jug I started about four years ago. That's about thirty bucks.

I've earned thirty bucks in four years. Yeah, I've earned some pennies, but it doesn't seem to be worth the time invested.

He who laugh last laughs best.

That's cause he's an idiot and he still doesn't know why he's laughing.

We need better slang or anecdotes or whatever the hell you want to call them. They're old, they're dated and they just don't make any sense anymore.

I've come up with a few that you should start using in your day-to-day life. Maybe they'll catch on and be as popular as the ones above.

If you see OJ, kill him.

You know, if enough people say it, and it becomes popular, someone just might do it. Don't think it will happen? Tell me you've never had a coke and a smile.

A cult always ends up badly.

That one could save you some heartache the next time your new friends want to pass your 13 year old daughter around the commune like the town Harlot -- all in the name of Bob. Something to think about.

Don't jump from high places.

Take it from me, that's why they have stairs and elevators. No need to hurt yourself.

Now all I have to do is wait for the fuckwad to tell me that may examples aren't the same as the examples that have been around forever.

Before you do, I don't give a fuck.


And, on a side note, I'm still dicking around with this Picasa program, so here is a kick ass picture of me and Steve f'ing Railsback (not to be confused with Lance f'ing Henrickson).

 

Go figure...

I am one of the people I write about. The other day I did something so damn asinine, I decided to write a blog about it. But I am going to write it as if I saw someone else doing what I was doing.

For the slower ones out there, whenever I refer to the “guy,” it’s me. This next part is all me.

I call it…


The wind beneath that ass's brush...


The other day was beautiful. Simply beautiful. It was a perfect day to set the cruise control, turn down the windows, turn up the radio and drive. A taste of spring was in the air, and since it’s been awhile since I’ve been able to throw down the windows more than an inch.

But not that day. No sir. It was so nice, both windows were down. And I was cruising a steady 70. Good times.

As I was driving, I noticed a guy up ahead of me had his windows down, too. Right on, my brother! Appreciate the day! It will be another couple weeks before we see another day like this, so live it up!

Then I saw what he was doing—or rather, what he was trying to do.

Brush his hair.

I wanted to roll up parallel to him and yell at the window…

“HEY DUMBASS! YOUR WINDOW IS DOWN! WIND IS COMING IN THE CAR, BLOWING YOUR HAIR! BRUSHING YOUR HAIR IN THE WIND DOES NO GOOD!”

Dumb ass.

People are stupid.


So there it is. I was trying to brush my hair with both windows rolled down and having a time with it.

Go figure.

The Hand of God and the Vatican

At the end of Stephen King's The Stand, there is this great scene where the "hand of God" comes down from the heavens, touches a nuclear warhead and Las Vegas is destroyed.

I wish that would happen to Vatican City... if only for the irony.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing at all against God. I've even been known to pray on a few occasions. Well, not really "known to pray" because, for me, praying is a private thing. But, the point is, I love God and I hate the church.

I've always disliked organized religion, but it's only recently that I've really started to hate the Vatican -- in particular the Pope and his flunkies. Seriously, when will this assclown die?

Wait. Wait. Wait.

Yes, I want the Pope dead. But he's lucky. Usually, I wish cancer and/or Aids on people I wish dead. He's just getting the death wish -- quick and painless is fine. Just die already. Seriously. I'm tired of every time this cat opens his mouth, nothing but hate spews first.

Among other things, he's compared abortion to the holocaust in the same breath. Let's be realistic, regardless of what you feel about abortion, it's not comparable to the holocaust. For one, like it or not, an embryo is not a human. Yes, it's life, but a thinking, functioning human it is not. And to compare it to the pain and torture of the Jews, gypsies, homosexuals and other groups went through is deplorable.

He's also considers gay marriage "evil." Nice one, asshole. I can really tell you are living up to the bible's teachings of brotherly love. How in the fuck does it affect you who a man or woman marries? I mean, other than the fact you don't like it. And the irony is, the church is so good at damning things like homosexuality and abortion, but at the same time they are accepting of pedophilia.

That's right. You heard me. The church accepts pedophilia.

How many times have child molesting priests been moved from one town to another to protect the church from scandal? I'm betting that's a number we will never know.

And, at one time, the church told law enforcement that they would not release the names of suspected/known pedophiles -- they would handle the incidents internally.

Excuse me?

Huh?

Who in the fuck do you think you are?

It is not your job to handle the "incidents" -- either internally or, well, AT ALL! This is not theft of office supplies. But hey, I understand. You don't want the bad press. Just remember, tolerance is acceptance. And, believe me, you are only fooling yourselves if you think your are not just tolerating it.

Now, to get on track, back to the pope.

Seriously dude, just die. It would be one thing if you were a crazy man on the street preaching hate. But millions of people, for some reason, revere you as if you speak for God. Which, man, I pray that you don't. If you do, we are all in for a shitty afterlife. Because your God is a bastard and I don't want to be part of him.



One day, I hope the Hand of God introduces itself to the Vatican.

It's all fun and games until someone gets an eye poked out...

I have two different colored eyes.

No, it's not a birth defect. No, I'm not a dog (although that may be debatable in a year or so). No, I don't buy two different colored contacts. It's because of an eye injury I received about 25 years ago.

When I was seven, two friends and I were in a backyard throwing rocks and sticks into the woods. Eventually, we started running low on "ammo" and Keith (whose parents owned said yard) ventured into the woods to get some more stuff to throw.

While he was collecting the goods, Joshua and I continued to throw rocks. And I'm fairly certain it was the general direction we saw Keith head off too. Sure enough, we soon heard a yell as my rock found its target.

"Sorry!" I yelled out. But let's face it, I wasn't sorry. It was funny. I hit a target I couldn't even see. Plus, Keith wasn't crying, so no harm, no foul.

Keith came out of the woods a short time later carrying just one stick. WTF?

"All that time and you could only find one stick?" I asked.

"Yeah. It's for you." He said. And he threw it at me.

I shit you not, I was probably less than four feet away from him and he threw it like a damn pitcher. Not a softball pitcher, either. And yeah, it went into my eye.

His parents rushed me home (my house was like two doors down from theirs) and my parents rushed me to the hospital. Apparently, one of the top eye doctors in the county just happened to be visiting area hospitals that day. Either he was just leaving or had just left, but was called back when I was admitted. My eye was operated on that night to try and repair the damage that was done.

I don't know how many total operations I had, but I think it was at least three. The damage was massive - a detached retina and a collapsed cornea are two of the thing I know they worked on. To this day I am legally blind in it.

So how did I end up with two different colored eyes? I have no idea.

I will say this, though...

Before the eye accident, I had two hazel eyes that changed color (this is normal). I guess, depending on my mood, they go from blue to green - usually hovering around blue.

After the accident, they still change colors, but the right either stays dark green or brown while, like I said, the left one hovers around blue.

I don't harbor any ill-will towards Keith. Hell, he was only five or six, he didn't know any better. Plus, I got to wear an eye patch for school for a bit, so that was pretty cool. And, as a consolation prize, I have two different colored eyes.

The moral of the story?

Don't throw things, someone will get an eye poked out.

Boo-yah! *rimshot*

Shut the fuck up, fanboy. Part two.

Now that the "books as original source" discussion is officially closed, it's time to talk about the second type of remake - or what I consider the only type of remake. That is movies whose original source was another movie.

Fanboys, grab a tissue because you aren't going to like what I am about to say regarding remakes of movies whose original source was a movie...

Who. Fucking. Cares.

There seems to be a lot coming out lately, but, reality check #231422, there have ALWAYS been remakes. And there will ALWAYS be remakes.

I'm going to go ahead and start with the two most recent (popular) horror remakes. Dawn of the Dead (DotD) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (TCM). But I'm gonna stick with TCM for a moment.

TCM, the original, did a LOT of good for the horror genre. It was dirty, it was gritty and it introduced Leatherface; one kick ass horror icon.

When the remake word came out, oh God, the fanboys went fucking crazy!

"blah blah blah not going to see this piece of garbage!"
"blah blah blah is a classic, how could they blah blah blah..."
"blah blah blah Hooper's masterpiece will be ruined!"

blah.
fucking.
blah.

Okay, first things first, Tobe Hooper, while he has done a few movies and deserves credit where credit is due, hasn't done anything ground breaking since TCM. So, yes, it may be his masterpiece, but what does that really mean if the rest of his stuff is so mediocre (with the exception of Lifeforce).

Whoa there, sport - I know what's next. You are going to throw Poltergeist at me. Nope, sorry sunshine, Poltergeist was all Spielberg. All you have to do is actually watch it to know that. If you don't agree, watch it again. If you still don't agree, pull your head out of your ass and give it another go. Got that? Good. Moving on...

Now, back to the TCM remake. What made matters worse (supposedly) for the remake was Michael Bay was a producer! *gasp* *shock*

Michael Bay?!?

The Rock Michael Bay? Armageddon Michael Bay? Bad Boys Michael Bay?

How could it possibly be good? What does he know about horror? (Hey, he did direct Pearl Harbor *rimshot*)

Well, low and behold, when all was said and done, the remake was good. Damn good. It was dark, it was violent and you cared a helluva lot more for the characters than the original. The Hitman said it best in his review of the movie....

"At its best, it is a gritty, dirty, bloody film filled with suspense and its share of scares that is more entertaining and enjoyable than Hooper’s original.

There. It’s been said.

There is no good reason horror movie fans won’t enjoy the 2003 TCM — whether they are fans of the original or not."

...and he was 100% correct.

The best part of the whole TCM remake fiasco was when many of the naysayers ate their words and conceded that the movie was actually pretty good. Good luck convincing them that it was better - even if some thought it was, they would never admit it. But that's neither here nor there as it is simply a matter of taste. The bottom line is, they jumped the gun and were proven wrong.

Now for DotD.

When the remake plans were announced for DotD, it was the same reaction as TCM. And, like TCM, it ended up being a good movie that many fans liked.

DotD was a remake in name only. The only things it had in common with the original was zombies and a mall. Its only mistake (if you want to call it one) was calling it DotD. Personally, I think it was a smart movie as it drummed up free publicity. But that's another topic for another day.

Now, there's something that DotD did that the fan boys either chose to ignore just don't care. I'd bet a paycheck it's the former because they really, really do care - but I'm getting ahead of myself.

George Romero's fourth installment in the Dead series had been on hold for what seemed like forever. He just couldn't get investors. But after the releases of TCM and DotD, guess what? He got the money for his movie. Why don't fanboys ever bring that up?

Kids, let's give credit where the credit is due. Those remakes you love to hate pave the way for the original movies that you love.

Hollywood is a business and, unfortunately, they aren't in the business of taking chances anymore. What remakes do (particularly horror) is test the water of the horror market and, if the remake turns a big enough profit, the "original" horror movies get to see the light of day.

Listen, if you are so against the idea of a remake, don't see it. But see it or not, do everyone a favor and shut the fuck up about it, fanboys.

Shut the fuck up, fanboy.
Part one


Word on the net is Don Coscarelli has been talking about remaking his classic Phantasm movies (parts 1 - 3).

Uh oh.

Fanboys are going to be pissed.

Brace yourself.

The shit is going to hit the fan.

Now, let's take a minute to talk about remakes.

As I see it, there are two types of remakes. And since one type doesn't even count as a remake in the first place, I'll tackle that one first…

A remake of a movie who's original source was a book.

When The Shining TV mini-series was announced, fanboys all across the globe were in a rage. If you listened close enough, you could hear their cheeto cheese coated fingers punching angry diatribes on the computer.

"How could they?!?"
"Why would they mess with perfection?!?"
"Mick Garris is a hack!"
"I want to suck Kubrick's dick! Who else do I need to suck to do that?"

And my personal favorite…

"How can they make it better than the original?!?"

Okay, first of all, fucknuts, the movie may be also known as "Stanley Kubrick's The Shining," but it was based on Stephen King's book. And by based, I mean both shared characters of the same name and both took place in a hotel. That's about it.

Reality check: The movie was not a Kubrick original.

And, as far as following the book (which is one of the main reasons King himself wanted the remake done), the miniseries far surpassed the "original." Note the sarcastic quotes around "original." Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed Kubrick's Shining quite a bit. But, as a movie based on a book, it sucks more than your mother pulling a train.

So, shut the fuck up, fanboys. Movies based on books don't count as remakes. I don't care if they are filmed 100 times, if the original source is a book, keep you mouth shut because when you open it, you are only showing your ignorance.

Now, prepare your tissues, boys. Here are some movies that can be remade (and I left out the obvious ones like Dracula and Frankenstein).

A Clockwork Orange
The Exorcist
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
The Godfather

And I wish next year they relase all of those movies above as remakes with Ice Cube and Queen Latifah as the lead stars of each. Why? Because I like Ice Cube and Queen Latifah. Plus, I would think it would sound kind of cool as twelve million elitist prick fanboy's heads all exploded at once.

Stay tuned for part two.

Just tooling around with a new program.


My friend turned me on to this excellent tool from google called Picassa. It makes uploading pics to the blog soooooooo much easier.

So, to test this damn thing out, here are some pics from my trip to Berlin (if you click on the pics, they get bigger)...


Me and my buddy Steve contemplating the next artistic shot. I'm the round eyes and round belly. 

The top of the Sony center. That roof would light up blue and purple. Right now, it is obviously purple. 

I just ordered a sausage platter. It was all good. 

I thought the women in Germany would be hotter, but sometimes you do what you have to do. 

Might as well make it worth my while...

I remember this one time when I peed on my sister.

Growing up, my sister and I did everything we could to get the other in trouble. It is the first chapter in the unwritten book on sibling rivalry, "Get the other in trouble as much as you can." However, the problem was that she was better at getting me in trouble because, one, I did more stupid things and, two, she lied more and she lied better than me.

So one day I had been running around outside doing God knows what and, suddenly, I realized I had to pee. Bad. You know, the kind of pee that just sneaks up on you. One second your fine, the next your bladder is about to explode. It still happens to me now when I’ve been playing X-Box for too long. I’ll be playing a game for a while, pause it to get a drink or something to eat, then suddenly it’s like “HOLY SHIT! I GOTTA GO!”

Anyway, on that particular day back in 1978 or ’79, I didn’t think I could make it all the way into the house — especially all the way upstairs to the bathroom. That was just too far. So, I did what I had to do…

I started peeing on the side of the house.

Low and behold, just as the stream started flowing, my sister comes running around from the other side and punches me in the arm. “Ooooohhhhhhh! I’m tellinnnnnnn’! You are going to get in so much trouble when I tell mom what you are doing.”

There wasn’t much thought in my next action. I just figured if I was going get in trouble, I might as well make it worth my while.

So I turned and pissed on her.

Yeah, I got in trouble. But it was worth it.

Holiday spirit...

Christmas sucks.

That's right. I said it.

Christmas. Sucks.

I used to like Christmas, but after 10 years of working retail (again, thank God for my current job), I've developed a hatred for most, if not all, of the holidays.

Christmas.
Halloween.
Easter.
Back to School.

I can't really explain why I hate Christmas because of my lengthy retail prison stint, but those who worked retail for any extended period of time know exactly what I'm talking about.

Now this isn't going to be a diatribe on why Christmas sucks, I'm just letting you know my feelings on it.

However, back in my youth, I loved Christmas. Loved it. I loved the food. I loved seeing my family ( by family, I mean my Uncle Leslie and family, the rest of them I could do without). I loved making my Christmas list. And I loved opening my gifts. Especially when they were from my sister.

See, growing up, my parents always had my sister and I make lists of the things we wanted and they would buy from that list. Sure, there may have been a deviation or two from the list, but for the most part, I got most - if not all - the things on it. Some people would frown upon that, saying it's about the thought and all that bullshit, but lets be realistic, if someone buys you something you either don't need, don't want or both, they weren't being very fucking thoughtful - with a list, everyone is happy.

That said, my sister used to get me the coolest Christmas gifts ever because they were always original as hell. Some of the gifts she gave me...

A stolen stop sign. You might think that is cheesy, but she went out of her way to steal it and give it to me on the day Christ was born. That should say something.
Glasses, that when you put them on, made you feel like you were tripping. I've never tripped, but I can say I almost did. Got those when I was 12 or so.
A squirrel that she had shot herself, skinned herself and treated herself. You could even see the bullet-hole.

I mean sure, you look at those gifts now, they may seem cheesy. But damn, as a teenager, they rocked.

So, one year I asked her what she planned on buying me for Christmas. She was about 19 at the time, I was 16. She told me she couldn't afford to get me anything because she wasn't working and didn't have any money (I guess she had outgrown larceny by this time). Since I was employeed at the time, I pulled twenty bucks out of my wallet and handed it over to her. I said, "You always buy me the best gifts, so just pick something cool out and use my money." It's amazing how dense I can be.

Christmas morning came around and, after all the gifts were opened, I noticed there was nothing from my sister. I was a little perplexed since I had given her the money to buy me a gift, but I just chalked it up to her not getting a chance to buy me anything yet. Either that or she was looking for the ultimate hella-cool gift and she just hadn't found it yet.

I was wrong on both assumptions.

After about a week and no gift, I went to her and asked her about it. "I didn't buy you anything," she said.

"But what about the twenty dollars I gave you!" I yelled.

"Oh, that?" She laughed. "I got a carton of cigarettes with it. You can have a cigarette if you want."

I was pissed. And the thing was, I couldn't do anything about it. My dad found out and he just laughed at me. My mom didn't care, either.

But it gets better.

The next year, I was smart enough not to give my sister any money to buy me any gifts, nor did I buy her anything because of her actions the year before. Yes, I hold grudges. And, yes, I'm proud of my ability to do so.

Yet, imagine my surprise when, after all the gifts had been opened and the mess cleaned up, my sister handed me an envelope.

"Merry Christmas," she said as she walked upstairs to her room.

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a twenty.