Here's a picture of the happy couple. This was taken on a low-key Tuesday night at home:
Lord, she’s pretty. This is going to be fun.
Here was Jables’ reaction. I’m not sure quite what to make of it.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Overnights! And not the good kind, with pillowfights.
So I work overnights now, at a crappy insurance company (in the event someone important is reading this, they should know that when kids today say “crappy” they mean “awesome”—true story). What I do for a living is as unimportant as ever and the reasons for switching are relatively unimportant (other than the fact my girlfriend works overnights too, and now I can touch her boobs while I’m sleeping). One plus about overnights is that between calls I can write blogs that reveal far too much personal information.
I thoroughly enjoy my new hours. However, there are many mysteries and... I won't say interesting, because that's not true... we'll say socially inept characters to deal with when working overnight shifts. Here is one example of each:
Character: The 38 year old guy (Matt) who is way, way too impressed with his sports card collection. I’m not knocking the guy for liking or collecting sports cards. I’m not interested in it, but then I haven’t time traveled back to elementary school in 1964 and I can afford to buy gum without sharp edges (barely).
What I don’t understand is why this guy flaunts his card collection so much. One day he walked inside my cubicle (shattering my personal bubble) with a small, nondescript cardboard box. He then started to bang said box on the shelves in my cube.
He wants me to ask him what’s inside the box, I thought. Then I didn’t ask him, because he’s annoying and I wanted him to go away.
Matt then attempted to endear himself to me by praising the movie Transformers while denigrating Superbad, one of the best comedies of all time.
Sidebar: When I started to list off some of the 4,000 reasons Transformers is a giant steaming pile of cinematic bullshit, he told me “you just have to accept it for what it is.” Uh, no, I don’t. I like big dumb action movies as much as the next guy, I just don’t like lazy ones where four story alien robots can hide behind trees in the middle of the fucking suburbs, and I don’t like when the normally reliable John Tuturro is so ridiculously terrible he embarrasses the entire movie making industry. Off the top of my head, I can only think of one other performance that bad, which came courtesy of William Hurt in A History of Violence. But at least Billy “Volume = Acting!” Hurt has the excuse of always being worthless.
I thoroughly enjoy my new hours. However, there are many mysteries and... I won't say interesting, because that's not true... we'll say socially inept characters to deal with when working overnight shifts. Here is one example of each:
Character: The 38 year old guy (Matt) who is way, way too impressed with his sports card collection. I’m not knocking the guy for liking or collecting sports cards. I’m not interested in it, but then I haven’t time traveled back to elementary school in 1964 and I can afford to buy gum without sharp edges (barely).
What I don’t understand is why this guy flaunts his card collection so much. One day he walked inside my cubicle (shattering my personal bubble) with a small, nondescript cardboard box. He then started to bang said box on the shelves in my cube.
He wants me to ask him what’s inside the box, I thought. Then I didn’t ask him, because he’s annoying and I wanted him to go away.
Matt then attempted to endear himself to me by praising the movie Transformers while denigrating Superbad, one of the best comedies of all time.
Sidebar: When I started to list off some of the 4,000 reasons Transformers is a giant steaming pile of cinematic bullshit, he told me “you just have to accept it for what it is.” Uh, no, I don’t. I like big dumb action movies as much as the next guy, I just don’t like lazy ones where four story alien robots can hide behind trees in the middle of the fucking suburbs, and I don’t like when the normally reliable John Tuturro is so ridiculously terrible he embarrasses the entire movie making industry. Off the top of my head, I can only think of one other performance that bad, which came courtesy of William Hurt in A History of Violence. But at least Billy “Volume = Acting!” Hurt has the excuse of always being worthless.
Sidebar 2: I also understand that I've probably thought about the movie Transformers more than the people who actually made it. But isn't that the problem?
Sidebar 3: I don’t know how to make an actual sidebar appear, so I’m assuming it is acceptable to just say “sidebar” and digress in the middle of a story. You know, kinda how Congress passed that law that says you can just say “stop” and drive straight through stop signs, instead of having to slow down? Washington really got that one right.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. So he finally realizes I’m not going to ask him about his cardboard box, so he does a casual back stretch (honestly) and gives me a “Yeeeaahh… These are my trading cards. Probably got about $8000.00 in this box.” Wow. The conversation continued:
Him: “You want to see them?”
Me: “Nope.”
Of course, he opened the box and showed them to me. Including one that had pieces of jersey in the card! Oooh!
I don’t have anything else to add to this story. Sorry. I hope you learned something.
Mystery: Hey America! It’s time to play everyone’s favorite game…
Douche bag or malfunctioning robot?
I play this game every Friday when I work with a guy I’ll call “Carl,” because that’s his name. Now, the first time I met Carl, I thought he was just a dumbass. However, Carl’s behavior the past several Fridays indicates he could be a malfunctioning robot from the future.
Peculiar Behavior #1: Carl’s hair is bleached blond and gelled into a plastic harder than 1970s breast implants.
Debate: I’ll admit this one seems easy at first. I mean, we all know bleached blond hair on a dude is a key indicator of douchery. But what if this hair doesn’t just look like plastic? What if… it is plastic? Maybe the robot overlords of the future couldn’t find a good wig and just made a weave out of the tops of old Ken dolls.
Verdict: Douche bag 1, Robot 0.
Peculiar Behavior #2: Carl wears a very tight leather coat. It might also be a woman’s coat, I can’t tell. There does seem to be tiny air-breast bubbles in the chestal region.
Debate: This one is easy. The harrowing documentary Terminator 2: Judgment Day taught us all that robots from the future love leather coats. Scientists (namely, Jeff) are still working to determine why this love affair exists, but this little piece of evidence certainly furthers my robot theory. Also, we can assume post-apocalyptic robots place little emphasis on gender, which explains why Carl might be wearing a woman’s coat.
Verdict: Tie ballgame!
Peculiar Behavior #3: This isn’t behavior per se, but Carl’s voice sounds like Kermit the Frog, if a drowsy Kermit swallowed a bug while mainlining Quaalude.
Debate: Well, Carl is either a person that gets kicked in the throat a lot or a robot that accidentally wandered into a giant microwave and partially melted his voice chip. Both scenarios are equally plausible, but in this instance I’m leaning toward the latter.
Verdict: Douche bag 1, Robot 2.
Peculiar Behavior #4: Carl beat boxes to himself between calls. One night he used his cell phone to record himself beat boxing and played the recording back several times, giggling.
Debate: This one is tough. I’ve only known one good human being to beat box, and he’s a short Italian with a large penis. He was also going through a rap phase at the time. Carl isn’t short and I assume he doesn’t meet the other qualifications either. This line of logic definitely leads down Douche Bag Lane (the same street Carlos Mencia lives on).
But what if that is how robots communicate? Maybe he wasn’t playing a recording of himself, maybe he was having a conversation on speakerphone and I couldn’t differentiate between the two voices. Like when Jay overhears Asian people talk and he just hears “Ping pong ping pong ping pong.”
Verdict: I was tempted to give Team Douche Bag 200 points, but instead I’ll just tie up this mystery at two points each.
Final Verdict: Can robots be douche bags?
Well, that’s all for to day. I’ll leave you with this week’s installment of…
Things I’ve (honestly) been forced to tell my girlfriend:
- The “suck it” gesture is not a dance, no matter how much you want it to be.
- You can’t say “I’ll wash your underwear” in a sexy voice. It doesn’t work.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Profiles in Courage
I figured if Axl Rose can release an album, I can write a blog. I’ll catch you up on my life at a later date, so why don’t you get acquainted with some of the people in my life:
The Who (oh, one other thing-- This blog is essentially for the amusment of those listed, so if you're not listed, you'll be bored. And you're probably a jerk)
My brother Jay, my dad, my mom, my sister Anne, my girlfriend Jamie, and my friend Hampton
Conventional Reasons to Like These People:
Jay: In the past, he was often punctual.
Dad: He’s always up for some drunken Taco Johns. Once when I was little I went with him as he drove for some drunken Taco Johns (you read that right) and he rather vehemently decried one of Jay’s friends for trying to steal all our winter hats. Of course, no one ever actually tried to steal our winter hats.
Mom: She takes care of people. For instance, she sometimes will go get my dad Taco Johns, so he doesn’t drunkenly run over nuns and school children on his way to the drive-thru.
Anne: Sometimes she’s overly sarcastic to other people and more or less leaves you alone.
Jamie: She sleeps 17 hours a day, so if she’s bothering you, you just need to wait her out. You know how some people (douchebags) say they work 25 hour days? Jamie added an extra hour to her day so she could sneak in another nap.
Hampton: You can always silence his calls.
Why I Actually Like These People:
Jay: Last weekend he claimed he calls his wife Kelsey “Red Skittle Vagina Candy.” Her reaction made me think he probably doesn’t call her this.
Dad: Once, at breakfast, my family was having a discussion about what kind of movie biopic would eventually be made about us (because it’s inevitable, right?). My dad said he wanted his movie to be “a poor black boy Lion King” story. He was very excited about this.
Mom: She’s disgusting. She refers to pooping as “brown potty” and has my and Jay’s game of “who can say the grossest thing?” into an art form. Here’s an exchange that took place this weekend:
Jay (Contemplative, then with conviction): I don’t know what I’d say after a blowjob.. Everyone should have a post-fellatio buzzword!
(Laughter, then silence)
Mom: Lord knows I do.
(Everyone vomits quietly)
Anne: She’s a great communicator. For example, if you’re having a conversation she doesn’t approve of, she’ll use her polite voice and say, “change the subject, this is boring,” or “Ugh! I don’t care what you’re talking about!” Then she’ll talk to you for hours about High School Musical.
Jamie: I’m going to answer this by getting you up to date on Jamie’s weekly schedule. Here’s how she actually spends her week:
Monday
Sleep until 5:30 pm
Eat
Workout
Eat
Nap
Eat
Pout
Tuesday
Sleep until 5:30 pm
Eat
Nap
Workout
Eat
Nap
Whine about getting a second dog
Wednesday
Sleep until 6:00 pm
Wake up, then nap
Eat
Make up song, sing it acapella (don’t stop singing, even if Dallas begs)
Tell Dallas you’ll do the dishes
Thursday
Sleep until 6:00 pm
Pout—refuse to smile or enjoy life
Take NO Shotgun—get really hyper
Try to annoy Dallas
Pout when it works
Nap
Workout
Friday
Sleep until 6:30 pm
Take something too seriously, but refuse to admit anger
Get mad at Dallas for asking why you are mad
Give Dallas a pizza cutter?
Make an excuse about why you haven’t done the dishes
Saturday
Sleep
Nap
Sleep
Sunday
Sleep until 5:30 pm
Thank Dallas for doing the dishes
I mean, how could you not love someone like that?
Hampton: He is apathy incarnate. He once ate only peanut butter and Oreo cookies for almost two months, simply because he forgot to eat other things. He lived in an apartment for an entire year without putting sheets on his bed—he thought it was a waste of time because he was planning on moving out someday.
Less Desirable Qualities:
Jay: He’s very very fun again, which makes him much more difficult to mock.
Dad: He’s blindly Republican despite overwhelming evidence the GOP is pure, unadulterated evil. Also, he steadfastly refuses to monetarily support me if I retire when I want/deserve to, in April 2009.
Mom: She’s blindly Republican just because other people are Democrats. Don’t look for the logic there. She felt that Sarah Palin had/has merit as a leader in government. Don’t look for the logic there, either. She waits until lunch or dinner to bring up horrific car accidents or ask us about our bowel movements That last one might have been just for me, though, because I used to only make brown potty once a week. Hey Mom, I’m up to once a day! Hooray for modern science!
Anne: She has cool friends, hip taste in clothes and music, and just entered college. Basically, when God sucked all the youth and fun out of your life, he gave it to people like Anne. You should resent her for this—now you’re stuck with flab and French onion party dip stains on your sweatpants.
Jamie: See List Above
Hampton: Some of my clothes still smell from when he refused to shower freshman year of college. No joke! One particular smelly Sunday I asked him, “Hey Hampty-Hamp, why do you smell as if you were peed on and covered in stink bait and buried in hot, sweaty manure and then spent five years of your life living in the dumpster behind a Vietnamese whorehouse/restaurant?”
Hampton replied, “I showered on Thursday. Like you shower on the weekend.” HE THOUGHT PEOPLE DIDN’T SHOWER ON THE WEEKEND! The hell?
Anyhoo, not a long blog. I’m just getting back in the swing of it, so sorry if it sucked. But don’t worry, I’ll post again when Axl’s robot sentience puts out his next album, recorded in a studio on Mars in the year 2064.
The Who (oh, one other thing-- This blog is essentially for the amusment of those listed, so if you're not listed, you'll be bored. And you're probably a jerk)
My brother Jay, my dad, my mom, my sister Anne, my girlfriend Jamie, and my friend Hampton
Conventional Reasons to Like These People:
Jay: In the past, he was often punctual.
Dad: He’s always up for some drunken Taco Johns. Once when I was little I went with him as he drove for some drunken Taco Johns (you read that right) and he rather vehemently decried one of Jay’s friends for trying to steal all our winter hats. Of course, no one ever actually tried to steal our winter hats.
Mom: She takes care of people. For instance, she sometimes will go get my dad Taco Johns, so he doesn’t drunkenly run over nuns and school children on his way to the drive-thru.
Anne: Sometimes she’s overly sarcastic to other people and more or less leaves you alone.
Jamie: She sleeps 17 hours a day, so if she’s bothering you, you just need to wait her out. You know how some people (douchebags) say they work 25 hour days? Jamie added an extra hour to her day so she could sneak in another nap.
Hampton: You can always silence his calls.
Why I Actually Like These People:
Jay: Last weekend he claimed he calls his wife Kelsey “Red Skittle Vagina Candy.” Her reaction made me think he probably doesn’t call her this.
Dad: Once, at breakfast, my family was having a discussion about what kind of movie biopic would eventually be made about us (because it’s inevitable, right?). My dad said he wanted his movie to be “a poor black boy Lion King” story. He was very excited about this.
Mom: She’s disgusting. She refers to pooping as “brown potty” and has my and Jay’s game of “who can say the grossest thing?” into an art form. Here’s an exchange that took place this weekend:
Jay (Contemplative, then with conviction): I don’t know what I’d say after a blowjob.. Everyone should have a post-fellatio buzzword!
(Laughter, then silence)
Mom: Lord knows I do.
(Everyone vomits quietly)
Anne: She’s a great communicator. For example, if you’re having a conversation she doesn’t approve of, she’ll use her polite voice and say, “change the subject, this is boring,” or “Ugh! I don’t care what you’re talking about!” Then she’ll talk to you for hours about High School Musical.
Jamie: I’m going to answer this by getting you up to date on Jamie’s weekly schedule. Here’s how she actually spends her week:
Monday
Sleep until 5:30 pm
Eat
Workout
Eat
Nap
Eat
Pout
Tuesday
Sleep until 5:30 pm
Eat
Nap
Workout
Eat
Nap
Whine about getting a second dog
Wednesday
Sleep until 6:00 pm
Wake up, then nap
Eat
Make up song, sing it acapella (don’t stop singing, even if Dallas begs)
Tell Dallas you’ll do the dishes
Thursday
Sleep until 6:00 pm
Pout—refuse to smile or enjoy life
Take NO Shotgun—get really hyper
Try to annoy Dallas
Pout when it works
Nap
Workout
Friday
Sleep until 6:30 pm
Take something too seriously, but refuse to admit anger
Get mad at Dallas for asking why you are mad
Give Dallas a pizza cutter?
Make an excuse about why you haven’t done the dishes
Saturday
Sleep
Nap
Sleep
Sunday
Sleep until 5:30 pm
Thank Dallas for doing the dishes
I mean, how could you not love someone like that?
Hampton: He is apathy incarnate. He once ate only peanut butter and Oreo cookies for almost two months, simply because he forgot to eat other things. He lived in an apartment for an entire year without putting sheets on his bed—he thought it was a waste of time because he was planning on moving out someday.
Less Desirable Qualities:
Jay: He’s very very fun again, which makes him much more difficult to mock.
Dad: He’s blindly Republican despite overwhelming evidence the GOP is pure, unadulterated evil. Also, he steadfastly refuses to monetarily support me if I retire when I want/deserve to, in April 2009.
Mom: She’s blindly Republican just because other people are Democrats. Don’t look for the logic there. She felt that Sarah Palin had/has merit as a leader in government. Don’t look for the logic there, either. She waits until lunch or dinner to bring up horrific car accidents or ask us about our bowel movements That last one might have been just for me, though, because I used to only make brown potty once a week. Hey Mom, I’m up to once a day! Hooray for modern science!
Anne: She has cool friends, hip taste in clothes and music, and just entered college. Basically, when God sucked all the youth and fun out of your life, he gave it to people like Anne. You should resent her for this—now you’re stuck with flab and French onion party dip stains on your sweatpants.
Jamie: See List Above
Hampton: Some of my clothes still smell from when he refused to shower freshman year of college. No joke! One particular smelly Sunday I asked him, “Hey Hampty-Hamp, why do you smell as if you were peed on and covered in stink bait and buried in hot, sweaty manure and then spent five years of your life living in the dumpster behind a Vietnamese whorehouse/restaurant?”
Hampton replied, “I showered on Thursday. Like you shower on the weekend.” HE THOUGHT PEOPLE DIDN’T SHOWER ON THE WEEKEND! The hell?
Anyhoo, not a long blog. I’m just getting back in the swing of it, so sorry if it sucked. But don’t worry, I’ll post again when Axl’s robot sentience puts out his next album, recorded in a studio on Mars in the year 2064.
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