A collection of random diatribes.


Thursday, June 30, 2005

The States I've been to...

I ripped this off of Ms. Spinster's blog.

Hopefully, by the end of next year, I can add Nevada to the list.

And, if the stars align and fall perfectly into place, I will have a bunch more between California and Maryland by the end of this year.

But for now, here's where I've been...



Create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out our California travel guide

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

How lazy do you have to be...

It's a bitch thinking of things to write on here, sometimes.

Last week I hit a random blog and it was funny as hell. Unfortunately, it hadn't been updated in a month, so I dropped a comment.

Her reply, which was as equally witty as the blog, was...

I think about writing in this damn thing every day, but then I start thinking about cheese (or something equally important) and forget to jumpstart the computer and get ta writin'.


For me, that is spot on.

Everyday I think of something I should write in here, and every time I go to do it, either the words fail me, or I forget.

But sometimes, sometimes man, people make it easy. Like yesterday.

Yesterday I hit Charbucks to do a little coffee drinking and a little brainstorming for a blog. I had three themes rolling in my head...

-The first time I remember being told I love you - not as hokey as it sounds.
-My attraction to women that are unobtainable - as hokey as it sounds and not what you think.
-The day I found God - not a chance, fuckers. Oh, I believe in God. I have a close relationship with Him. I just hate the church. Passionately.

And none of these themes were working for me. So I left empty handed.

And that's when I saw it. My blog entry.

I was heading to my truck when I noticed a lady waiting for a car to leave so she could park. That in itself seems okay, but there were things she was doing that were just flat out ignorant.

The first was she wasn't even in the parking lane waiting for this car to leave. She was on the main strip (the spot she was waiting for was a front-row-Joe). Normally not much of an issue, but the people leaving were taking their time, thus causing people to line up Ms. Ignorance.

Now, normally this would no big deal. Hell, she's waiting for a good spot. But when the jeep that was behind her pulled around her and parked TWO SPOTS DOWN from the car leaving, I just watched in amazement. I know, I know, I shouldn't be surprised, but it gets worse.

The car behind the jeep went around this dumb bitch and parked in a spot FOUR SPOTS DOWN from the car leaving (who, by the way, was still sitting there, occupants outside of the vehicle, still dicking around).

I got in my truck, which was five spots down from the car leaving, and left. My spot was immediately taken by the car behind the car behind the jeep.

And that bitch was still waiting for the spot.

Seriously, how fucking lazy do you have to be to hold up traffic so you don't have to walk about ten extra feet.

Good thing breathing is automatic or this bitch would have suffocated long ago.

Oh. Wait. Maybe that's not a good thing. It would get rid of some of the riffraff.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

She's to blame, or thank...

I was over my sister's house last weekend for a cookout and one of her friends took this picture for me.

I honestly can't remember the last time my sister and I took a picture together.

She made my first 16 years a living hell, so she's the one to blame (or thank) for some of the stories on this blog.




Why she's shoving her baps at me, I have no idea.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

What I should tell the police...

My roommate is going to a concert in Atlantic City this weekend.

She is supposed to come back Saturday afternoon and catch a movie with a bunch of us and she informed me that if she didn't call me before the movie started, with some legitimate reason why she was going to be late, for me to call the police.

I asked what she would like me to tell the police, if I had to call them.

Her reply...

Say, “My roommate went to Atlantic City and thinks I actually care about her whereabouts. She hasn’t returned home, and said if she didn’t for some legitimate reason, she would call. She hasn’t. I’m supposed to think the worst and get someone looking for her. Really, I don’t give a shit, I’m just worried that she WILL eventually return home okay, and then sic her brother and father on me for not calling you guys. Now I’ve made the call, and my hands are clean. It’s on you. When you find her, please tell her I expect to be compensated for the money this phone call is going to cost me, plus an hour of my time at my overtime rate. Please don’t call me with any info, as I have a life and don’t want to be disturbed, unless it’s to tell me she’s dead so I can kick her cats out. Thanks.”

Yeah. I'm good with that.

I couldn't help but laugh...

I saw a car yesterday with a flat tire. The tire that was flat was the spare tire.

Think about it, what the hell did this poor bastard do to piss off the gods to deserve that?

I figure he was one of those idiots that rides the left lane without passing--holding people up--and he was smote down for it.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Safety glasses over the contacts...

A few blogs back I explained why I have two different colored eyes.

I don't know if I mentioned it or not--you are lucky to get the link--but the vision in the bad eye is horribly bad. It can only be corrected to 20/40. I couldn't even tell you what it is uncorrected, but I'm legally blind in it, so that should be enough.

About two years ago I went to Sears Optical* to get my vision checked so I could get some new contacts and glasses.

It's always amusing when opticians check out my eye for the first time because they always do a double take. Apparently, I have a lot of scaring on the bad eye, due to the operations I have had on it. And it's always the same conversation...

"Hmmmmm," they'll say, as they use the super-duper magnifying lens on my eyes.

"If you are wondering, then yes, it's scar tissue. I've had a few operations on it." I'll say.

"How did..." they'll start.

Then it's my cue to go through the same old story--not that I mind, people seem to find it entertaining and, apparently, I am here to entertain.

So I go through the rigmarole with the new doc and get the scripts from him so I can pick out my glasses and order my contacts.

Then he said something never said to me before.

"You should also order some safety glasses to wear when you are wearing your contacts."

Huh? And I think "huh" was what I said then, too.

"So you can protect your good eye. You don't want to risk anything happening to it, do you?"

What. The. Fuck.

The thought had never crossed my mind. Sure, it's probably come to the crosswalk before in times of danger (like when I got nailed with a snow/iceball right in the good eye), but I always told that motherfucker to go back into his hole. I didn't want to hear his negative ass. I have enough problems to keep me occupied than to worry about something that may or may not happen.

In over 24 years of going to the eye doctors, NONE have suggested that. Not one. And I've been to the top doctors in the country.

I don't blame the guy. I mean he was only looking out for my best interests. But, fuck, man. Like I need that over my head.

I get contacts for three reasons:

1. The right eye drifts like a motherfucker when I don't wear a contact in it. And it has to be a contact because if they were to put the power in glasses, I'd be walking around all cockeyed and shit because one lens would be thin and the other would be about six feet thick.

2. So I can wear sunglasses. Sunlight is a bitch when your pupil doesn't dilate.

3. SO I DON'T HAVE TO WEAR GLASSES. Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, you motherfuckers that wear glasses, but don't need them, can go straight to hell.

The pisser is, due to my obsessive compulsive nature, the thought of something happening to my good eye comes out of his hole much, much more often, now. Before, the bastard would only come out if some serious shit was going down--like a three car pileup in his front yard.

Now the little fucker comes out just to smile and say hi. Prick.



*on a side note, don't ever go to Sears Optical in the Annapolis Mall. Thieving bastards. Another blog, another time. Just trust me on this.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

More updates necessary...

Recently I found out my blog has been linked on two different sites.

Wow. And that is not a sarcastic wow, or indifferent wow. That's a wow as if it had the exclamation point. But I'm not a big fan of the exclamation point, thus just the period.

It's kind of flattering, without the 'kind of' part.

I've been asked on a couple different occasions why I started a blog. And it's an easy answer. I started it on the recommendation of a friend. That's it. I had asked this friend how to be a better writer. I write reviews for HorrorTalk.com (linked on the right) and, soon, DonkeyHat.com (also linked on the right). I wanted to write the best reviews possible. My friend said the best way to be a better writer is to always write. And the best way to always write is to start a blog and keep it updated.

I took his advice, as it was sound.

I never intended it to be anything more than a bitchfest. Hell, the first couple months, I barely updated.

I threw the link of my blog into my signature at Horrortalk and I got a few requests from some friends to update. Honestly, I would be lying if I didn't think that was cool. Someone not only read my crap, but they wanted more. That's hella-cool.

So I updated.

And then some friends started blogs.

So I updated some more, to keep up with them. I know it's not competition, but, to me, I didn't want to be left behind. Also, dammit, some of the blogs they started are pretty damn good and I want to be as funny and as articulate as some of the blogs I read. So I have to keep updating.

Now this. The links.

Now I have to discipline myself to update even more. Dammit.

But that's a good dammit.

I appreciate the nods, Aric and Ms. Spinster. Considering the quality of the sites I'm being linked from, it's a high honor.

And to those who read this and even leave a comment or two on occasion, I appreciate you as well.

I have said before, and I'll say it again, if I didn't have readers, I would still write. I need to if I want to be better at my reviews. But because of you guys and gals, I write more than I probably would if I didn't think people were reading, and that helps me.

I have to stop now before I start putting Bette Midler song quotes in the mix. Then I'd have to eat some scissors, The Dead Zone style.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Finally...

The story of the Pennsylvania stalking trip.

About two months ago, or so, I noticed Brian Keene was going to be doing a signing in Union Town, PA. Since I have family up there, I figured it would be a pretty cool roadtrip, as I have not been on a solo roadtrip in ages.

I headed up Thursday evening and went straight to my aunt and uncle's place. Since the signing wasn't until Friday, it was a good time to catch up with my family. I would elaborate more on them, but that's another blog. Great people though. I don't think they are related to the rest of my nutty ass family.

Anyway, Friday rolls around and I get up late, do a little shopping at Gabriel Bros. (which is, hands down, the best outlet store I've ever been in), bought some low-budget DVDs from a kick ass video store and basically dicked around until about 5 or so. Once 5 hit, I headed up to the signing, which was about a half hour away.

I hit Union Town mall at about 5:30 or so. The plan was to hit Keene up for some 'graphs, BS a little, do some shopping and hopefully have a drink with the man when he stopped signing at 8.

Two things went wrong...

1. Keene was signing until 9, not 8.
2. The mall was not the size of a mall I was used to. It wasn't half the size of malls I was used to. It was probably a quarter the size of malls I was used to.

So I was pretty much done by 7. Shit.

There were only so many times I could walk by Keene's table while pretending not to look at him. Or stare at the wall. You know what I'm talking about.

Finally, I said fuck it. What can you do? So I went over to bullshit with him. And try to look busy when business came up. I hope I suceeded.

Long story short, Keene is a great guy. He is probably one of the most approachable people I know, famous or not. Down to earth and funny as hell.

After the signing, Keene, Scott, Kat, Sheldon and I went out for a drink and had a bullshit session on the horror genre in general. After we polished off our beers, we headed over to this guy Steve's house, where he gave me an autographed copy of his novel Oogie Boogie Central.

Most definite good times.

A couple of shoutouts in order...

Brian
- Dude, I've read some of the preview in the back of Terminal. The part about BS being a big pussy. I assure you, I laughed my ass off. But that's all I read of it. I don't know if it's me milking it, or nerves, but either way, you're getting an email. Good times, bro.

Steve
- Thank you to you and your family for welcoming me into your home. And thanks for the book, too. I finished up the one I was reading last night and I will start yours tomorrow. I assure you I will live up to my promise of shooting you an email with my thoughts.

Sheldon, Scott and Kat - Good times, you shall get my email soon pointing you in the right directions for more conversations.

All in all, a fanfuckingtastic time.


Sunday, June 12, 2005

The power of Skittles and Dew...

As mentioned yesterday, this weekend I went to Pennsylvania. I made pretty good time, but it would have been better if it weren't for the backup in Frederick.

I left DC about 2:00 (thanks to my boss for letting me cut out early!) and hit the road before rushhour took over. I was making pretty good time until I hit Frederick, where it became bumper to bumper for about 1/2 an hour.

Since I was making pretty good time, anyway, this backup didn't really bother me. What did bother me was the soccer mom behind me completely up my ass. How did I know she was a soccer mom? Because every so often she was trying to get ahead, and she'd jump over in the right lane in her yellow SUV and the cute little soccer ball on the back window. Gag.

And being the asshole that I am, and since she pissed me off by riding my ass for no reason, I would not let her around me. Look, I don't use the left lane if I'm not passing, or trying to pass. And I hate people that do. And I hate people that get up on my bumper when there is obviously nowhere for me to go.

Finally, traffic started to pick up some and people starting getting a good clip going. It was still a little thick, but things were finally moving. I was going along with the flow of traffic and soccer mom got behind me and started riding my ass. Again. I'm talking so close, I couldn't see the bitch's bumper.

So, being the child that I am (and believe me, I know this is childish), I hocked up a good loogie (skittles and mountain dew has mad loogie power), rolled down the window, and let it fly. Statistically, I should have missed her. But I don't think I did.

Why else would she whip around from behind me and give me the finger as she passed?

I laughed and gave her a little wave.

Drive safe, sunshine.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

A special place in hell...

I got back today from a trip to Pennsylvania to see my family and hit a Brian Keene signing.

I have a seperate blog for both the signing and my family coming soon, but not right now.

Right now, I just want to thank all of those drivers who ride the left lane and pace the car in the right, thus not allowing me to pass them.

There's a special place in hell for you.

Pricks.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

You know who you are...

The recent blog on smoking was an experiment done by some friends and I. We took all took the same topic and wrote on it. The only rules were don't talk about it and don't read anyone elses.

And since I've yet to give a shout to the my friends' blogs, this is a good opportunity to do so.

Those who participated (in alpha order)...

freakmagnet - Going Up in Smoke
The Hitman - Cross-blog discussion time!
Mr. Blonde - I'm sorry, I just don't care
Neon Maniac - I Hate Peer Pressure
shiki-jitsu - You got an extra smoke?

Now, a few other friends' blogs...

Issued Away - The Short Bus
Krystal Lake - Nothing Important

And a bonus...

Lance Henrickson - Lance Fucking Henriksen's Blog

Now, there are other blogs I read on a daily basis, but those don't get posted in this entry.

This blog is for the fuckers that make me laugh on a daily basis.

You know who you are.

So true...

I took one of those stupid-ass online personality tests. Every single word is true. I'm actually a bit surprised.


Smartass
You are 85% Rational, 57% Extroverted, 71% Brutal, and 71% Arrogant.

You are the Smartass! You are rational, extroverted, brutal, and arrogant. You probably consider people who are emotional and gentle to be big pussies who are obviously in lesser stature than you. You have many flaws, despite your seeming intelligence and cool-headedness. For instance, you aren't very nice. In fact, you're probably an asshole.

And you are conceited and self-centered. Not only that, but you are very loud and vocal about all this, seeing as how you are extroverted. There is no better way to describe you than as a "smartass", I'm afraid. Perhaps just "ass" would do, too. But that's a little less literary and descriptive. At any rate, your main personality defect is the fact that you are self-centered, mean, uncaring, and brutally
logical.



To put it less negatively:

1. You are more RATIONAL than intuitive.

2. You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted.

3. You are more BRUTAL than gentle.

4. You are more ARROGANT than humble.


Compatibility:


Your exact opposite is the Emo Kid.


Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Capitalist Pig, the Braggart, and the Sociopath.


*


*


If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well.

Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain yraits.


The other personality types:

The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.




My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 72% on Rationality
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 64% on Extroversion
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 85% on Brutality
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 82% on Arrogance
Link: The Personality Defect Test written by saint_gasoline on Ok Cupid

Sunday, June 05, 2005

I need a cigarette...

So I read in the paper the other day that D.C. is trying to ban smoking in bars again.

Shhhhh.

You hear that?

That's the sound of millions of smoke nazis around the globe doing a little dance.

I'll give them a minute to stop.

Okay, smoke nazis, now that you can hear me...

You are a bunch of fucking idiots.

Do your fucking dance. Enjoy the fact you may have another city that will have smoke free bars. And, not surprisingly, completely miss the bigger picture. But, before I explain the bigger picture to you, I'm going to share with everyone else the main reason why smoke nazis love this law. The ONLY reason that's been given to me on why this law is good.

"Now my clothes smell like smoke after I go out drinking."

Um. Sure.

Let me clue you guys in on a new invention. It's called a washing machine. You want to know what it does? It washes your fucking clothes, you dumb asses.

Oh, oh! I just shot there major excuse down. Wait for the next one, the one that's a throwaway.

"Now I don't get second-hand smoke. It's dangerous."

Let me clue you guys in on something else. You aren't going to get lung cancer from going to a bar every now in then, you dumb asses. And do yourself a favor, investigate second-hand smoke, some. You may be surprised to learn that there are just as many studies discrediting it as studies that claim it's killing us all. I'd love to carry on with this topic more, but this blog isn't about the effects (or non-effects) of second-hand smoke.

Now, the big picture. The one you smoke nazis either completely ignore, or just don't see. I'll even type it slow so you can keep up.

The government is telling a bar owner what's best for his/her business.

I'll type it again, in case you missed. I'll even bold it so you know that it's important.

The government is telling a bar owner what's best for his/her business.

Do you honestly think that's a good thing? Here you got a man (or woman) who is abiding by all the state laws, running his/her bar, making some money for him and his family and the goverment comes in and says "Yeah, we know it's your business, but we think it's best for you that you lose up to 50% of your income. Because we feel it is up to us to protect non-smokers from, uh, second-hand smoke or something."

Huh?

Now here's a thought. I'm just throwing this out there. If you don't like to go to a place where smoking is allowed, don't fucking go. If you don't like working in a place where smoking is allowed, find another job. Is it that hard to be a responsible adult, capable of making your own decisions? Or do you still need someone to hold your hand, like mommy and daddy did for you when you were a child, because that is EXACTLY what the government is doing. It's making the decision for you. And me too, you fucking cocks. Thanks for imposing your lifestyle on me. I appreciate that.

Also, do you really think it's fair that someone should lose their money, and possibly their life savings, because the government has a bug up their ass and a hand in their pocket telling them that smoking is bad? And don’t think for a second that someone other the government is footing this bill. Do some research.

"Here’s the grabber: The movement to make Washington smoke-free isn’t coming from actual Washingtonians. “Smoke Free D.C.” is underwritten by a $250,000 grant from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, a non-profit “public health” organization based in New Jersey. The movement was given $50,000 by the Rockefeller Family Fund, which is based in New York.

The AFL-CIO of Washington enthusiastically supports the ban, claiming in a press release that “secondhand smoke causes 65,000 deaths per year in the United States.”

That number is absurd. It’s 20 times the estimate of secondhand smoke deaths put out by the Center for Disease Control, and even the CDC’s estimate was recently laughed out of a federal court."
(Fox News)

Yes, goddammit, smoking is bad. It's a filthy, disgusting, addictive habit. And I'm a smoker. But you know what? I'm responsible for my own actions, and if there is a bar that is a non-smoking bar, I'll go to another one. But, unfortunately, I'm not going to have a choice. Choice. Now there's an interesting word.

How about we give the bar owners a CHOICE on whether or not to make their bar a smoking or non-smoking one? Oh, fuck me, did I just say that? Give them a choice? God forbid some sense is thrown out in the mix.

Because we all know damn well that the bar owners are going to do what's best for their business, thus, most likely, keeping it a smoking bar. And since the smoke nazis are whiney babies who can't handle making their own decisions, they get the government involved to do their thinking for them. And the rest of us. Thank you so much for taking decision making away from me. I was worried I was going to have to think for a minute. Oh, I was wondering, how did you find time for this when you are usually so busy writing down everything Howard Stern says that you don't like? Did finally figure out to change the station? Or have you given up on him since he's going to satellite radio?

Back on track, let's look at the numbers from the Montgomery County, Maryland, ban.

"Although large, family-style chains have been relatively unhurt by the ban, smaller establishments have seen total sales decline by an average of 30 percent during the week and 50 percent on weekends, according to Melvin Thompson, vice president of the Restaurant Association of Maryland, a food service industry trade group."(Washington Post)

30 to 50 percent. You smoke nazi fucks. 30 to 50 percent. I hope you are happy. Some poor bastard is losing 30 to 50 percent of their income so your clothes don't stink. Good job.

"Meanwhile Julie Johnson, 24, one of his bartenders, recently moved out of her Silver Spring apartment and onto a friend's couch. "I'm just not making enough to pay my bills," said Johnson, who added that the law has created another indignity: chasing after customers who duck outside for a smoke and leave behind their tabs.

She said her average day's tips used to be $70; now, she's earning less than $20."
(Washington Post)

Question, who is going to make up the lost money to the owners of the establishments and the people who work there? You? I doubt it, you are just happy you have smoke-free clothes. Clothes that apparently you don't have to wash anymore because there is no smokey smell. I mean, you obviously never thought of washing them before, so I certainly see no reason why you would start now.

Now, I know your incredibly teeny, tiny minds are all filled up right now from reading this, but let me throw something else at you.

Have you considered for a second what can of worms these bans might have opened up? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Let's just say you like Ma's local diner. You like the greasy burgers they serve. Best in town.

Oh, shit! Grease is bad for the heart! Working there will make your clothes stink! We should encourage the government to tell Ma's they can only use greaseless meat for their burgers. I mean, it's only fair. We must make the decisions for people and their happiness! WE KNOW WHAT'S BEST FOR THEM! And don't tell me it's different, because it's the exact same thing. Look at the pressure McDonald's has been getting because some fat fucks decided it was McDonald's fault for the fatties not being able to control themselves.

That's it. I'm done. I know this is a losing battle. I'm just happy people out there deciding things that are in my best interest.

I fucking hate people.

I need a cigarette.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

A good cat is a dead cat...

I hate cats.

Cats are easily the most useless domesticated animal. They have absolutely no purpose. None. Unless it's to piss on your carpets, destroy your furniture, break your belongings or, if you are allergic, make you completely miserable. I take that back, you don't have to be allergic to cats for them to make you miserable.

And, cat owners, pipe down. I already heard all of your lame ass excuses.

"They are good companions."

The fuck they are. They only let you pet them when it's convenient for them. Or they want something. Don't think for one minute that their world revolves around you. Cats are selfish little bastards. If you want a companion, get a dog.

"Cats are smarter than dogs, they have their own personality."

No. Cats are smarter than you. They own your ass and you don't even realize it. You say they have a personality so you can justify how they walk all over you.

"He only pees on your carpet because he's marking his territory."

What?!? Marking his territory? Until that piece of wasted flesh pays a fucking mortgage bill, he doesn't have any fucking territory.

"He only pees on your carpet because he's upset."

Hey, I get upset when I'm in Walmart, but I don't take my dick out and piss all over the automotive section.

"My cat knows me better than anyone else. He's like a little person."

What. The. Fuck. Seriously. Get some fucking help. And yes, I have heard that one.

And on. And on. And on.

All cats are the same. They all suck. They should round them all up and put them down. Little worthless fuckers.

And if you think they are loyal to you, go ahead and have someone else start feeding them. See how much they pay attention to you after that.

I used to have a dog that only my dad fed, but that dog was loyal to everyone in the family and he came to anyone in the family who called him. Try that with a cat.

Cats fucking suck.