I mean fuck...I haven't written anything in full since April. Sad, I know. So a ton of shit has happened. I think I've started writing about it like five times and either get sidetracked or try to write much deeper than what I really need to.
So yeah, I moved in May, and when I say "I moved" it's because I indeed moved all of my shit in addition to all of my brother's shit. Me, I could have had all my stuff packed and moved in four hours. My brother (who by the way didn't pack a damn thing until it was the actual moving day), not so much. Forty-two and a half hours straight baby.
Now I love my brother to death, I really do. But, I swear to God almighty (my god, not yours) that I am about to strangle him and become an only child. So the fact that I had to find new accommodations for us doesn't really bother me, nor the whole moving all of our stuff. He did try valiantly to keep pace with me, but I was on a different level during that whole clusterfuck. I'm even over the fact that taking the trash three feet across the hall to the trash chute and putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher are too menial of tasks for him. His new girlfriend is driving me up the fucking wall. And that really doesn't even begin to describe how I really feel.
It's not even her so much as the fact that she has essentially moved in with us. Which wouldn't be a huge deal if we lived in a two bedroom place. Yes, I know all of you out there in my non-existent readership are wondering where we live if not in a two bedroom. Well, I'll tell you. For purely financial reasons (and the fact that we never entertain) we decided that a one bedroom would suit our needs. I took the room and he has the living room. Settle down, just settle the hell down. My father and I, like the manly men we are, built a seven foot tall, twenty-eight-ish foot long screen to give him some privacy, so it's not like he's out in the open.
But anyways, on or around the time we were moving he started dating a girl he works with, good for him, seriously. She started coming over a few nights a week after giving him a ride home since he doesn't drive...no not can't drive, just doesn't. And at first she seemed okay. I don't really have anything in common with her, but it wasn't a big deal. Well then a few nights a week became five nights a week and then after July fourth weekend, it's been every fucking night of the week. Did I mention we live in a one bedroom? So I'm now basically stuck in my room after ten pm because I don't want to risk the wave show or hearing humpbacks mating. And he's not an Animal Planet enthusiast...they're both fat.
I'd really like to talk to him about the situation and how it's really bullshit and inconsiderate, but since she has basically moved in it's become quite difficult. So I'm just steeling myself for the inevitable day (which will come quite soon I'm sure) when I just fucking lose it and I'm sure will divide us for a long long time. C'est la vie.
Well that's about all I'm prepared to write tonight.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Making an Ali-like return...
So wow, I have been incredibly lax in posting. My awesome plan of actually working on my writing post-laptop acquisition fell flat in a heartbeat. It's not like my life is rife with orgasmic experiences to write about in the interwebs.
The holiday season that I was lamenting in a previous post went off with barely a hitch. I got out of going home, even though I was told by numerous people that I was fucked up for not spending the holidays with my family. My mother is suffering from empty-nest syndrome since my brother moved down here with me so she and my dad drove down to make an insane amount of food for us, that truth be told, we wasted a lot of because frankly we can't eat that much. Wow that was an awesome run-on sentence.
Christmas was even better. My brother decided to take a train home to see friends and whatnot. I on the other hand, slept in until one and then spent the rest of the day watching cartoons with my other roommate's three year old. All in all, a pretty good day.
Other than that not much has happened. I turned twenty-seven in February which was interesting to say the least. It's strange to think that I've been around causing trouble for this many years. The night was pretty low-key (read: not a shitshow like I expected). It was actually pretty good with the exception of being cock-blocked the entire night by this chick that came along with a friend of mine that I invited along with the express goal of "getting hopped up enough to make some bad decisions."
Now, now...before you label me an asshole, this chick and I have been doing this retarded dance for more months than I care to admit without actually doing much about it. We flirt shamelessly but neither of us will actually pull the trigger. My hesitation is we occasionally work together and I don't want to make it weird if she's not feeling me and then it's just kind of out there and awkward.
Ah well, that's the Reader's Digest version of the past few months...like anyone really reads this. Tomorrow will tell of the trials and tribulations of finding a new apartment, deciding on a new career and a reinforced stance on relationships.
And stealing a phrase from one of my favorite bloggers, Mark Hoppus,
May the force be with you...but mostly with me
The holiday season that I was lamenting in a previous post went off with barely a hitch. I got out of going home, even though I was told by numerous people that I was fucked up for not spending the holidays with my family. My mother is suffering from empty-nest syndrome since my brother moved down here with me so she and my dad drove down to make an insane amount of food for us, that truth be told, we wasted a lot of because frankly we can't eat that much. Wow that was an awesome run-on sentence.
Christmas was even better. My brother decided to take a train home to see friends and whatnot. I on the other hand, slept in until one and then spent the rest of the day watching cartoons with my other roommate's three year old. All in all, a pretty good day.
Other than that not much has happened. I turned twenty-seven in February which was interesting to say the least. It's strange to think that I've been around causing trouble for this many years. The night was pretty low-key (read: not a shitshow like I expected). It was actually pretty good with the exception of being cock-blocked the entire night by this chick that came along with a friend of mine that I invited along with the express goal of "getting hopped up enough to make some bad decisions."
Now, now...before you label me an asshole, this chick and I have been doing this retarded dance for more months than I care to admit without actually doing much about it. We flirt shamelessly but neither of us will actually pull the trigger. My hesitation is we occasionally work together and I don't want to make it weird if she's not feeling me and then it's just kind of out there and awkward.
Ah well, that's the Reader's Digest version of the past few months...like anyone really reads this. Tomorrow will tell of the trials and tribulations of finding a new apartment, deciding on a new career and a reinforced stance on relationships.
And stealing a phrase from one of my favorite bloggers, Mark Hoppus,
May the force be with you...but mostly with me
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Music is my sex
It's really not, I just like that iPod Touch commercial.
So I'm batting .500 on my musical purchases this week. The Color Fred's Bend to Break, is superb, while The Killers' Sawdust left something to be desired. Both were non-essential additions to my iTunes, but I like to splurge once in a while.
Okay, so I got Bend to Break because the frontman used to be in Taking Back Sunday who is a perennial favorite of mine. I have to say, it's pretty rad. It's a good mix of heartfelt acoustic and pseudo-pop break-up ballads without being completely fucking emo. I can't say I'm excited at the prospect of Taking Back Sunday without Fred, since he was great with Adam, but this is definately a much better side project than Tom DeLonge's failed experiment Angels and Airwaves.
Now on to Sawdust. I know, I know, it's essentially a filler disc until their new album comes out. I'm not a rabid fan, and I really only got it for sentimental value. My ex was obsessed with becoming the next Mrs. Flowers. (There's a story for my therapist.) But, yeah I knew it was B-sides and unreleased stuff, but I'm just feeling kind of 'meh' about it. It does have some strong tracks. Shadowplay, Tranquilize, and their cover of Dire Straights' Romeo and Juliet are performed excellently and I find myself constantly replaying those tracks. Where the White Boys Dance if nothing else, has a great title that makes me laugh, while the song as a whole isn't bad.
The real downfall for this album, for me at least, are the abysmal productions of Glamorous Indie Rock and Roll, Under the Gun, and The Ballad of Michael Valentine. They're just...fucking bad. There's always the possibility that they were the first recordings they did or maybe they just had a deaf producer, but those should have stayed locked in the studio under "Don't quit your casino jobs..." It's definitely not the worst twelve bucks I've ever spent (see: last week's poker re-buy, I'm a fucking retard sometimes). Hopefully a few more of the tracks will grow on me as I continue to listen to it more. I wasn't totally sold on Sam's Town initially, so there is still hope.
So I'm batting .500 on my musical purchases this week. The Color Fred's Bend to Break, is superb, while The Killers' Sawdust left something to be desired. Both were non-essential additions to my iTunes, but I like to splurge once in a while.
Okay, so I got Bend to Break because the frontman used to be in Taking Back Sunday who is a perennial favorite of mine. I have to say, it's pretty rad. It's a good mix of heartfelt acoustic and pseudo-pop break-up ballads without being completely fucking emo. I can't say I'm excited at the prospect of Taking Back Sunday without Fred, since he was great with Adam, but this is definately a much better side project than Tom DeLonge's failed experiment Angels and Airwaves.
Now on to Sawdust. I know, I know, it's essentially a filler disc until their new album comes out. I'm not a rabid fan, and I really only got it for sentimental value. My ex was obsessed with becoming the next Mrs. Flowers. (There's a story for my therapist.) But, yeah I knew it was B-sides and unreleased stuff, but I'm just feeling kind of 'meh' about it. It does have some strong tracks. Shadowplay, Tranquilize, and their cover of Dire Straights' Romeo and Juliet are performed excellently and I find myself constantly replaying those tracks. Where the White Boys Dance if nothing else, has a great title that makes me laugh, while the song as a whole isn't bad.
The real downfall for this album, for me at least, are the abysmal productions of Glamorous Indie Rock and Roll, Under the Gun, and The Ballad of Michael Valentine. They're just...fucking bad. There's always the possibility that they were the first recordings they did or maybe they just had a deaf producer, but those should have stayed locked in the studio under "Don't quit your casino jobs..." It's definitely not the worst twelve bucks I've ever spent (see: last week's poker re-buy, I'm a fucking retard sometimes). Hopefully a few more of the tracks will grow on me as I continue to listen to it more. I wasn't totally sold on Sam's Town initially, so there is still hope.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Still see a kid when looking in the mirror
So yeah, I've basically blown off NaBloPoMoBlaBlaBla...It's not for lack of time or subject matter, I just never stick with projects that I commit to for very long. It's like ADD with a shot of thorzine. Honestly, I've had posts 90% thought out in my head, and just lack the fortitude to sit down at my one processor in the grave desktop to type. That, and I'm addicted to my new bed.
"Big deal," you say...no, really, I can hear you out there saying it (not really, since no one but me reads this but that's beside the point). It's sort of a big deal since I slept on the floor for three months while I saved up for the fucker. Sure, I could have bought an air mattress in the interim, but they deflate so easily and the air inside gets so cold at night. So anyways, yeah, I bought this new queen size pillow top mattress, not because I'm sharing it, tragically, but I'm six feet tall so I finally have room to sleep extended rather than full time fetal position.
In addition to getting this new bed that undermines productivity with it's Siren song, I've been on this big "grow up" kick. You know, actually start acting like I'm almost twenty-seven instead of nineteen. So I went out and spent a boatload on new sheets, duvet (like I really needed that, but now I can sound pretentious when I talk about my sleeping arrangement), pillows, the whole nine yards. And now my bed is rad.
That inspired me to finally go through the three years worth of bank statements, credit card, insurance, cell phone, etc. bills and sort/shred them down to a reasonable amount. Seven hours over three days later, that feat was accomplished with only minor scarring of body and psyche.
I suppose that I should feel some sort of achievement, well probably not since it's pretty day to day shit for most people, but I'm sort of non-plussed by the whole experience. Next, I suppose I should seriously consider finishing my degree so that I can get a "real job," not that my job now isn't real. I work seven days a week, log anywhere between fifty and sixty hours a week, and haven't had a day off in at least six weeks. People are shocked when they ask me if I'm in school and I reply that, "No I'm not, I do this fulltime..." Yes, it's technically blue collar, well really, no collar, since I wear a t-shirt and jeans to work everyday, and yes it's retail. But I'm the second in command, and I'm damn good at what I do.
Sometimes I lament not working in an office environment. I don't appreciate "The Office" as much as some friends, I can't complain about attending buzz-word filled meetings, I don't need a "smart phone". Really, I just want a excuse to wear "nice" clothes once in a while. My female roommate informed me that if I really wanted to, I could find a way to rock real clothes, but my working environment isn't really conducive to shirt and tie wearing. Mostly because that's just not how we roll. Hell, I wore flip flops to work everyday for the past seven months and I only stopped because it's been below fifty degrees in the morning when I walk to work.
The other drawback to an office job is my blatant subversion of authority. Not even authority so much as incompetence. Not that it's a given, but I just don't react well with it. I just don't know if I'll find another job where I can tell my boss to fuck himself to his face on a regular basis and not be fired on the spot. That's just the sort of relationship that my boss and I have. We butt heads on quite a few things, threaten bodily harm frequently, mock each other mercilessly and maintain an air of general disdain. He's the best boss I've ever had.
"Big deal," you say...no, really, I can hear you out there saying it (not really, since no one but me reads this but that's beside the point). It's sort of a big deal since I slept on the floor for three months while I saved up for the fucker. Sure, I could have bought an air mattress in the interim, but they deflate so easily and the air inside gets so cold at night. So anyways, yeah, I bought this new queen size pillow top mattress, not because I'm sharing it, tragically, but I'm six feet tall so I finally have room to sleep extended rather than full time fetal position.
In addition to getting this new bed that undermines productivity with it's Siren song, I've been on this big "grow up" kick. You know, actually start acting like I'm almost twenty-seven instead of nineteen. So I went out and spent a boatload on new sheets, duvet (like I really needed that, but now I can sound pretentious when I talk about my sleeping arrangement), pillows, the whole nine yards. And now my bed is rad.
That inspired me to finally go through the three years worth of bank statements, credit card, insurance, cell phone, etc. bills and sort/shred them down to a reasonable amount. Seven hours over three days later, that feat was accomplished with only minor scarring of body and psyche.
I suppose that I should feel some sort of achievement, well probably not since it's pretty day to day shit for most people, but I'm sort of non-plussed by the whole experience. Next, I suppose I should seriously consider finishing my degree so that I can get a "real job," not that my job now isn't real. I work seven days a week, log anywhere between fifty and sixty hours a week, and haven't had a day off in at least six weeks. People are shocked when they ask me if I'm in school and I reply that, "No I'm not, I do this fulltime..." Yes, it's technically blue collar, well really, no collar, since I wear a t-shirt and jeans to work everyday, and yes it's retail. But I'm the second in command, and I'm damn good at what I do.
Sometimes I lament not working in an office environment. I don't appreciate "The Office" as much as some friends, I can't complain about attending buzz-word filled meetings, I don't need a "smart phone". Really, I just want a excuse to wear "nice" clothes once in a while. My female roommate informed me that if I really wanted to, I could find a way to rock real clothes, but my working environment isn't really conducive to shirt and tie wearing. Mostly because that's just not how we roll. Hell, I wore flip flops to work everyday for the past seven months and I only stopped because it's been below fifty degrees in the morning when I walk to work.
The other drawback to an office job is my blatant subversion of authority. Not even authority so much as incompetence. Not that it's a given, but I just don't react well with it. I just don't know if I'll find another job where I can tell my boss to fuck himself to his face on a regular basis and not be fired on the spot. That's just the sort of relationship that my boss and I have. We butt heads on quite a few things, threaten bodily harm frequently, mock each other mercilessly and maintain an air of general disdain. He's the best boss I've ever had.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
It's really not that hard
I am convinced that my roommates think that empty toilet paper rolls are fixed with explosives. That really is the only explanation for why they can't change them. I mean honestly, if you can pull another roll out from under the sink, put it on the fucking spindle. Come to think of it, my co-workers are the same way. Seriously, it's a spring loaded spindle...it takes five seconds to change. Ugh
Monday, November 5, 2007
Happy Guy Fawkes Day
Good day, eh...like I said, Happy Guy Fawkes Day! If you're not aware of Guy Fawkes Day, grab the nearest book and strike yourself about the head. Or, if you're not down with that go here. Ah, those crazy Catholics.
As we barrel haphazardly towards the holiday season, I find myself becoming more disenchanted with the whole dog and pony show that the "magical" days of Thanksgiving and Christmas bring. I have a fairly skewed outlook on the whole process. I grew up in the middle of fucking nowhere (mofn for short) away from extended family so on good holidays it was me, my brother and the 'rents. More often than not, my dad was gone for one or both of the holidays in question due to his responsibilities in the military. In any case, holidays were a fairly casual affair.
Fast-forward to the present. The parental units live quite close to my paternal grandparents so any and all holidays, however benign, are expected to be spent at their house. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents, which is easy since I was first born grandkid and the favorite even though they will never openly admit it (everyone knows it). My problem is that it is such a fucking production to spend holidays there.
For real, it's the holidays. Hang out with family, eat, drink, watch football, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I wish. It's like four days of unadulterated stress that's really not worth it. "What're you wearing?" "You're wearing that?!" "You can't wear jeans, it's the holidays, show some respect dammit." So this year I'm not doing it. Not going. I'm going to be curled up in bed in my apartment, four hours away from the ball of stress with a Tombstone pizza some cold Dos Equis. At least that's the plan. My mother is mortified at the prospect. I think she's just got the empty nest DT shakes.
The only thing worse than holiday stress at the grandparents, is having to split time between your family and your significant other's family. A girl I dated for quite a period of time was from the same town...like five minutes from my grandparents and holidays were a big thing for her family. Which is cool, I got along great with her family...in small doses. Did I mention that I am a more laid back guy for stuff like holidays? Twenty-two people crammed in a house designed for four is not my type of environment. And it wasn't like a "Hey, I'll stop by and make and appearance, maybe have a slice of pie." The bulk of the day I was trapped in a house so loud I couldn't think with her obnoxious pre-pubescent cousins running around screaming. Three years in a row, both holidays. Oh, and those were in the days before I drank, so it's not even like I could drunkenly get through them.
So, yeah, Happy Hermit-Holidays for me!
As we barrel haphazardly towards the holiday season, I find myself becoming more disenchanted with the whole dog and pony show that the "magical" days of Thanksgiving and Christmas bring. I have a fairly skewed outlook on the whole process. I grew up in the middle of fucking nowhere (mofn for short) away from extended family so on good holidays it was me, my brother and the 'rents. More often than not, my dad was gone for one or both of the holidays in question due to his responsibilities in the military. In any case, holidays were a fairly casual affair.
Fast-forward to the present. The parental units live quite close to my paternal grandparents so any and all holidays, however benign, are expected to be spent at their house. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents, which is easy since I was first born grandkid and the favorite even though they will never openly admit it (everyone knows it). My problem is that it is such a fucking production to spend holidays there.
For real, it's the holidays. Hang out with family, eat, drink, watch football, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I wish. It's like four days of unadulterated stress that's really not worth it. "What're you wearing?" "You're wearing that?!" "You can't wear jeans, it's the holidays, show some respect dammit." So this year I'm not doing it. Not going. I'm going to be curled up in bed in my apartment, four hours away from the ball of stress with a Tombstone pizza some cold Dos Equis. At least that's the plan. My mother is mortified at the prospect. I think she's just got the empty nest DT shakes.
The only thing worse than holiday stress at the grandparents, is having to split time between your family and your significant other's family. A girl I dated for quite a period of time was from the same town...like five minutes from my grandparents and holidays were a big thing for her family. Which is cool, I got along great with her family...in small doses. Did I mention that I am a more laid back guy for stuff like holidays? Twenty-two people crammed in a house designed for four is not my type of environment. And it wasn't like a "Hey, I'll stop by and make and appearance, maybe have a slice of pie." The bulk of the day I was trapped in a house so loud I couldn't think with her obnoxious pre-pubescent cousins running around screaming. Three years in a row, both holidays. Oh, and those were in the days before I drank, so it's not even like I could drunkenly get through them.
So, yeah, Happy Hermit-Holidays for me!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
American Gangster
Saw American Gangster tonight with two out of three roommates. Denzel was Denzel and Russell Crowe was Russell. It was a pretty good movie all things considered. I was pretty impressed with how many relatively big name actors were in pretty small supporting, and I mean that concerning actors other than Common, T.I. and RZA.
Not to take anything away from those guys, they were good if in tiny, tiny parts. T.I. had more lines that both RZA and Common combined, so I thought it was pretty bogus that there was all this build up for the rap-movie cross over. Common was much better in Smokin' Aces which was a relatively inferior movie to American Gangster.
I kind of feel like Denzel has the same outburst in every movie. It's the same chest pounding, spit flying scene, delivered the same way, over and over and over again. I mean, if you have your thing, run with it...like Sam Jackson, screaming "Motherfucker" just works for him, he's embraced it. But Denzel stresses what a serious actor he is and it is starting to feel like the same character in every movie.
All in all, it was enjoyable and I don't particularly mind shelling out to see it on the big screen rather than DVD after everyone and their brother has seen it
Not to take anything away from those guys, they were good if in tiny, tiny parts. T.I. had more lines that both RZA and Common combined, so I thought it was pretty bogus that there was all this build up for the rap-movie cross over. Common was much better in Smokin' Aces which was a relatively inferior movie to American Gangster.
I kind of feel like Denzel has the same outburst in every movie. It's the same chest pounding, spit flying scene, delivered the same way, over and over and over again. I mean, if you have your thing, run with it...like Sam Jackson, screaming "Motherfucker" just works for him, he's embraced it. But Denzel stresses what a serious actor he is and it is starting to feel like the same character in every movie.
All in all, it was enjoyable and I don't particularly mind shelling out to see it on the big screen rather than DVD after everyone and their brother has seen it
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