Cummerbund Workshop

Say it ain't so!

2009-01-17T01:36:00.004-05:00

It has recently come to my attention that the Coors Brewing Company has ceased the distribution of Zima. My biggest problem with this is that it happened in October, and I'm just finding out about it now. Dammit, I'm so outta the loop. Anyway, here's an explanation that was offered by one semi-reliable source:

"The decision was made to reduce "complexity" in the brewer's brand portfolio, allowing it to focus on more preferred brands like Sparks, a malt beverage brand acquired by Miller Brewing Co. of Milwaukee in 2006. MillerCoors, the recently merged operations of Miller and Coors, is asking distributors to replace Zima on store shelves with Sparks and Sparks Plus four-packs and Sparks Light."

Sparks? What the fuck! Has anyone had that syruppy swill? I have. And it's no match for the sparkling magic that was the one and only Zima Clearmalt. As a matter of fact, my friend Josh had a minor "incident" with the Sparks beverage no less than a week ago. He decided that after a night of heavy partying, the best way to wind things down would be to pound a few tall cans of Sparks at 7 AM. I walked into his house at about eight the following evening to find him wallowing in a puddle of his own fluids with a dime stuck to his back, mumbling about how he didn't go to sleep until noon that day. An hour or two later, we went on what we were feverishly giddy to be calling a "Sparks run". Good times.

Now that I think about it, if it weren't for Zima, it is very likely that I would not even be living in Ohio at this time. Long story.

Tales From The Bathroom! Part Deux: The Hat Pack

2008-11-09T08:19:00.011-05:00

I was working at the mall today and at about two hours into my shift, I considered it time enough to be appropriate to take a quick pee break. As I was walking into the men's room, I heard some kind of a ruckus going on inside. As I entered, I noticed a couple of Hot Topic-bred teenage dudes, both looking in the mirror and giggling profusely. So I walked past them to the urinal, and as I was getting prepared to take care of the important business at hand, the twosome were headed out the door, one of them exclaiming to the other, "If my hair looked like that all the time, I'd never wear a hat!".

Some five year old kid caught me checking out his mom's ass.

2008-10-14T01:25:00.004-04:00

I was tooling about at Target today and ended up peering down the office supply aisle in an effort to find some packing tape. I couldn't help but to notice that, at the other end of the aisle, there stood a young woman browsing with her back turned to me wearing an uncommonly skimpy pair of shorts. My glance quickly wandered over to a young boy standing next to her, looking at me like he wanted to kick MY ass.

I promptly left without buying anything and took care of my business at another Target.

Save it for when the tomatoes go bad.

2008-08-26T15:38:00.009-04:00

I was in my kitchen today wranglin' up a turkey sandwich on rye. I spread on a smidgen of horseradish mustard and I even included a slice of tomato. I figured that I would go the whole nine yards and top it off with a pickle, but when I took the jar of stackers out of the fridge, I noticed that there was only one slice left. I then decided against the pickle slice and figured that I would just save it for when the tomatoes go bad.

The second that the thought ran through my head, it struck me as a pretty damn sweet album title. At the next Kill Whitey recording session, I'm going to propose the suggestion of naming our next CD "Save It For When The Tomatoes Go Bad".

I have a sneakin' suspicion that it'll go over gangbusters.

Drive it like you bought it.

2008-07-28T23:52:00.003-04:00

I was driving down the street today when I noticed a bumper sticker on someone's car that read, "Drive it like you stole it!". I don't really know how to decipher that. If I were ever thrown into a situation in which I were driving a stolen car, I would be driving very carefully as to avoid being pulled over by the police and arrested for Grand Theft Auto. And I try very hard to drive carefully in my daily life anyway, so what that sticker means to me is, "Drive it like you normally would".

Maybe the sticker should say, "Drive it like there's no cops around", or even "Drive it like you're Kyle Petty, son of Richard".

This guy was no Travis Bickle.

2008-06-28T23:00:00.008-04:00

I went to Comfest on Friday and tore it on up. I ended up going down in a blaze of glory on the couch in Carter and Fern’s living room (by the way, thanks, dudes). When I woke up this morning, I walked up to High Street and called a cab. When the cabbie showed up, I hopped in and told him my address, but he wasn’t very proficient with the English language. All he had to do was keep driving in the same direction that he was already going in on High Street, but he turned west on Warren Street, and I quickly informed him that it would have just been best to keep going the way he was going in the first place. So he made his way back to High Street without stopping the meter to at least correct the time and mileage that I was going to have to pay him for his mistake. My take on it was, “Well, there goes this guy’s tip”.

But on the way down High Street, I started thinking that I was going to feel like a dick if I didn’t at least leave the guy some change. I’ve never taken a cab ride before and gone without leaving the driver a tip. But then, I started noticing that he was driving ridiculously slow in an effort to suck the meter.

When he dropped me off at my pad, he added up the total, and it came to $13.02. I gave him a twenty. He gave me back six bucks and and turned around like it was a done deal. I was like, “Hey, where’s the rest of my change?”

He acted all confused, like he didn’t know what I was talking about for a second, and then he gave back another dollar, leaving me two cents ahead. So the cab driver gave ME a tip! I thanked him, wished him a nice day, and got out of the cab.

After I walked into my place, I emptied out my pockets and realized that I had a bunch of change on me. I could have totally given the jackass his two cents back, but I was that glad I didn’t.

Fuck that guy.

You learn something new every day.

2008-05-28T22:15:00.001-04:00

My desk calendar has educated me on the following information regarding how to survive when stuck on an opening drawbridge:

1: Flash your headlights and honk your horn to draw attention to yourself.

2: Back up off the bridge if possible.

3: Get out - Your car will roll backward even when in park. Hold on to the railing or grated road surface.

4: If you begin to lose your grip or cannot find a handhold, jump into the water.

5: After breaking the surface, open your arms and legs wide to slow your descent.

6: Swim toward shore, away from the path of the approaching ship.

These people could've used this info. Please use the opening and closing sponsorship to your own advantage.

You might recognize that as the opening sequence from Maximum Overdrive, author Stephen King's directorial debut. It's been over twenty years, and we're still waiting with bated breath for his sophomore effort. My favorite part of this scene is the slo-mo shot of the motorcycle guy falling safely into the water, followed closely by the terrifying tumbling watermelons. That's some scary shit right there.

Tales From The Storage Unit, Part 2: The Vengeance Of Gargamel

2008-04-25T23:55:00.006-04:00

I was digging through a heap of my old stuff today and here are a few things that I was pleasantly surprised to come across:

My bank mailed this very informative pamphlet to me circa 1998. It offers a very comforting explanation of why it was unnecessary for me to empty out my checking account prior to the stroke of midnight that was to ring in the current millennium. It goes on about how, in 1995, they "began formal preparation with the formation of a corporate-wide, cross-functional project team", and a bunch of other bullshit. I used to read it for comfort whenever I would feel a tinge of pre-millennium anxiety kicking in. During the final days of the nineties, it proved to be invaluably therapeutic.

Here's my Smurfs Rubik's Cube.

It's just like a standard traditional Rubik's Cube, only it has a bunch of Smurfs all over it. The Smurfs on the two sides shown here seem to be having a grand 'ol time, while the one on top trying to ski is in a world of shit. Sucks to be him.

I stole this sign from the men's room of a nice outdoorsy restaurant in Sarasota, Florida about ten years ago.

I really like how the sign had to be altered with the handwritten additions. And some of the seagulls in the area must have periodically taken shelter in the bathroom, hence the bird crap all over it.

Then again, it could be paint. Or even White-Out.

My new addiction is not without its price.

2008-04-09T23:31:00.007-04:00

I've been eating great deal of sunflower seeds lately. After A few days of enjoying them nonstop, I've come to develop a pretty nasty raw patch about the spot of my tongue on which I unshell the seeds.

It hurts like a bitch.

Hurry up, willya, I'm gettin' hungry.

2008-04-08T00:35:00.003-04:00

I was all about to tell you about this kickass ketchup sandwich that I had for brunch today, when I suddenly realized that I've been talking an awful lot about food lately, and it just might be about time to shift gears and stop thinking with my stomach. Hopefully, by next time, I'll come up with something else to talk about. A few ideas that come to mind include the internal combustion engine, the life and times of Telly Savalas, or maybe even...

Fuck!

I'm outta Gummi Bears again.

Check ya later.

I've taken my first step into a larger world.

2008-03-14T00:33:00.003-04:00

I went to Chipotle yesterday, armed to the teeth with a hankerin' for one of their delicious barbacoa burritos. I've been trying to stay away from the cheese lately, for reasons we'll discuss later. But in a moment of weakness, I went ahead and asked for cheese to be included in the fixins.

As I sat and dug into my scrumptious Mexican treat, I pondered the necessity of adding cheese to my burrito, when there are so many other wonderful ingredients included in the mix that you can't even really tell that it's in there. I decided that the next time I eat at Chipotle, I would make a daring move and ask them to hold the cheese.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't eat the whole damn thing, so I wrapped up the 1/3 of the burrito that was left, took it home, and threw it into the fridge to enjoy at a later date. That later date turned out to be tonight! Only this time was different from any other time that I have ever enjoyed leftover Chipotle. This time, I actually displayed a great deal of patience by heating it up in the microwave instead of eating it cold in a drunken stupor in the middle of the night.

This was seriously the best leftover Chipotle ever, if not the most amazing leftover meal of all time. The ingredients were piping hot. The tortilla shell was nice and crispy around the edges. But the greatest part of all was that the cheese was a vital part of the burrito for the first time ever. Maybe because this time, it was melted! As I would take a bite, the cheese would actually stretch in between the burrito and my mouth, much like in the commercial for that Taco Bell cheesy something or other, which I've had, and the shit ain't like that.

As a result of this astounding revelation, I have changed my mind. I will proudly ask for cheese to be a primary part of each and every one of my Chipotle burritos from this day forward.

Just thought you might wanna know.

Never underestimate the power of soup.

2008-02-17T07:51:00.008-05:00

I've been spending the past couple of days visiting with some family in the lovely town of Chattanooga, Tennessee. And when I say that the town is lovely, I'm not being the slightest bit sarcastic. The only problem with the place is that the most productive thing to do there is to hang out at the health food store and eat free samples of their scrum-diddly-umptious soups.

I hung out at the store and diligently devoured their succulent soups until I was asked to leave. Seeing as how this was a question, my answer was a resounding "No". Shortly thereafter, I was TOLD to leave. So there I was, out on the street with a belly full of delicious, healthy soup. There are worse things that could happen in life.

Speaking of healthy food, Chattanooga's claim to fame is that it is the home of the annual Krystal Square-Off, during which athletes from around the globe compete in a contest to eat as many Krystal burgers as possible in the shortest amount of time. I wish I could have been there for this.

Better luck next time.

Somebody help me, I'm hooked on retsyn!

2008-02-09T22:04:00.001-05:00

I was waiting in line at the dollar store today when something in the candy section caught my eye. It was a pack of four rolls of Certs breath mints. It seemed like a bargain at the time, so I picked it up and bought it along with the rest of the stuff I had that I don't really need. Maybe I did this in order to safeguard myself against an unpleasant case of dragon breath. Or maybe it was because I saw this commercial back when I was a way little tyke and it has relentlessly haunted my dreams ever since.

The Certs people seem to be very proud of the fact that their mints contain retsyn. Which brings me to another query that I've been losing sleep over for as long as I can remember. What the fuck is retsyn? I decided to go ahead and do a little research on this "retsyn", and here's what I came up with:

Retsyn is a combination of copper gluconate and partially hydrated cottonseed oil. It is trademarked by Cadbury Adams, the maker of Certs, so that the people at Tic-Tac or Breath Savers can't steal any of their magical retsyn-induced thunder. The combined strength of the two ingredients in retsyn absorbs odor in the mouth, as well as enhancing the mint's refreshing flavor. The next time you are about to enjoy a Certs, take a good look at it before popping it into your mouth. Check out the little green specks on the mint. Guess what those are? That's right! It's the retsyn!

But enough of that crap. Let's take a look at another one of those awesome Certs commercials. This one's not quite as dated as the last one.

I think that one was filmed by the same dude who directed Milli Vanilli's "Girl, You Know It's True" music video. That's some dynamite shit, if you ask me.

At any rate, I'd forgotten just how delicious and refreshing these Certs really are. I'm on my third roll already, and by the time the night is over, I'm sure that the entire four-pack will be gone. That's a whopping 48 mints over the course of just a few hours!

Any second now, I'll be damn good and ready for one of those Certs encounters.

And the award for Best Picture Containing A Scene In Which The Statue Of Liberty's Severed Head Comes Tumbling Down The Street goes to:

2008-02-08T23:21:00.000-05:00

I haven't seen this film yet, but it looks like a kickass rockin' good time.

Congratulations also to the other four nominees, all of which feature Lady Liberty in all of her decapitated glory:

The Beheaded

Knocked Off

Dude, Where's My Head?

Eternal Liberty of the Rolling Head

All great contenders, it must have been a long and difficult process to choose the winner.

Coming up next:

The award for Best Picture In Which The Female Lead Spends Way Too Much Time Playing Connect Four.

Don't touch that dial, you most certainly won't want to miss this one.

You can have my sweatpants when you pry them from my cold dead hands.

2008-01-29T01:11:00.000-05:00

Recently, I've had a lot of free time on my hands. I'd been spending so much of this free time at Wal-Mart that they were about to start charging me rent, so I had to find something else to do. I figured that since I've been paying ten bucks a month to be a member of a gym, I might as well start spending some time there. And besides, I figured that maybe I would find some equipment there that would help me get rid of these godforsaken love handles.

For those of you who don't already know, I dig music. I like to listen to it as I exercise to keep the level of monotony at a minimum. I've had an iPod Mini for about four years which I keep in my pocket and listen to as I work out. That's perfectly acceptable to me, but everyone else at the gym is always showing off their new-fangled iPod Nano strapped to their arm, listening to it through a pair of those itty-bitty ear buds while I'm listening to my iPod dinosaur through a real set of headphones like it's 1985 and shit. I don't know if this should make me feel inferior, or if it's a sign that I'm walking on a treadmill among a bunch of dorks. Tonight, I actually saw one dude who had his iPod Shuffle clipped to the side of his baseball cap. Now, that's classy.

Then, I noticed that I am part of the 2% of the people there who wear sweatpants. Some of those who frequent the establishment like to wear shorts even though it's 16 degrees outside, but most of them sport those vinyl pants with the cool stripes down the side of each leg. I don't know, why should this bother me? I have a couple of pairs of sweatpants lying around, which I only use as pajama pants, so I figured I could get a bit of use out of them outside of the home. It's not like I'm wearing my sweatpants out to Pomeroy's Steakhouse for a surf and turf dinner, for fuck's sake.

And then, I noticed a couple of jocks in the corner, speaking among themselves and snickering as they were glancing at my feet every few seconds. One of these guys was wearing a pair of Nikes, and the other was wearing a pair of New Balance running sneakers. And there I was, wearing a pair of Kangaroos. Kangaroos were really cool back when I was in middle school, primarily because they had a little pocket on the side of each shoe, hence the name, "Kangaroos". I had a pair in the seventh grade, and boy, was I the shit. Apparently, Kangaroos no longer score a fella quite as many cool points as they did back in the day. Over the next half hour or so, I couldn't help but notice that almost everyone there was wearing a pair of hundred dollar-plus name brand athletic shoes. What a bunch of assholes.

But fuck it. I'm glad I was able to get this off my chest. I don't feel so self-conscious anymore. Tomorrow, I'm going down to the gym with my crappy old iPod in the pocket of my sweatpants, and I'll wear my Kangaroos with pride, just as though I were walking into Miss Purdum's algebra class. And maybe I'll even wear a pair of dirty, smelly socks, just for good measure.

So much for keeping up with the Joneses.

I have a feeling that I'm going to be eating some leftover ramen for lunch tomorrow.

2008-01-09T23:04:00.000-05:00

I was out grocery shopping the other day, and was doing my best to be a bit thrifty. I passed by the section at which the ramen noodle stylings are shelved, and decided to peruse the selection. In the past, I have had times at which I felt compelled to get the ramen packs that cost ten cents each. But this time, I felt as though I would try to live high off the hog and buy a couple of them that cost a buck twenty-five, packaged in a tray, including a separate pack of veggies and even some sauce. That's some classy shit. I prepared one of them for dinner tonight and enjoyed it immensely. However, I didn't feel much like finishing it. I broke out the Reynolds Wrap, covered the plastic container, and placed it into the refrigerator.

So at some point tomorrow, I might end up eating some of those leftover ramen noodles.

Reheated ramen for lunch. I've never done that before.

Will that be an absolute low point in my life, or a genuine triumph?

I just don't know for sure.

Now, HERE'S an actor who is long overdue for a serious comeback.

2007-11-22T04:54:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite actors from the eighties was a fellow who was always being portrayed as kind of an asshole. In 1984, he made life a living hell for Ralph Macchio in The Karate Kid. He then caused a ruckus in a film that wasn't quite as big of a hit, 1985's Just One Of The Guys. It was pretty much a high school based knock-off of the 1982 smash hit Tootsie, starring Bill Murray and Dustin Hoffman. He then went on to be kind of a dick in the Rodney Dangerfield starrer, Back To School.

Of course, I'm referring to the Czechoslovakian dynamo known as William "Billy" Zabka.

He's done some work in a handful of little known B-movies over the years since then, but here's a short film / music video, directed by Mr. Zabka himself. The song is by a band who call themselves No More Kings, with whom I am not particularly familiar. To be honest, hearing their style of music doesn't quite provoke me to run right out and buy their CD. However, I do have to admit that I give them mad props for writing this song and participating in this project.

That's some dynamite shit, if you ask me.

And here he is now.

Is it just me, or does he look as though he could be the next Robert Redford?

William "Billy" Zabka's comeback. In a word: Imminent.

Is this...what day is this?

2007-11-19T16:58:00.000-05:00

I paid my cable bill online today. I usually do it over the phone, but I just so happened to be sitting at the computer with the bill in front of me, and didn't feel much like getting out of my chair to walk across the room to call the payment in. And I've already been reminded today that I'm a lazy mother fucker, so just go ahead and save your breath.

But as it turned out, this plan pretty much wound up backfiring on me. I'd been given a confirmation number for my payment online, but I hadn't received an email or anything to indicate that those wacky cable people had received payment. So I had to go ahead and walk across the room to pick up my phone, after all.

What a pisser.

I called the cable company and the customer service representative was pretty cool. He reassured me within like ten seconds that my bill had been paid, and that my account was in good standing.

Mission accomplished.

As we were exchanging our end of conversation pleasantries, he advised me to "Have a good weekend".

Dude.

It's fucking Monday.

I mean, I certainly did appreciate the fact that he seemed to be concerned about my welfare as far as the upcoming weekend goes, but that's four days from now. Does this mean that as long as I have a kick-ass rockin' good time starting on Friday, he could give two shits about whether I live or die until then?

I should call back and have this jackass fired.

I could get myself into an awful lot of trouble for this.

2007-11-09T01:12:00.000-05:00

I really don't know exactly how this happened. A couple of weeks ago, I applied for a harmless little seasonal part-time job at a low maintenance kiosk in the mall, just for shits and giggles. I pretty much figured that I could put in a few shifts a week for a few months, not so much for the supplemental jack-shit pay I'd make, but just to have something around to keep me on my toes. And besides, everyone knows how much I love to hang out at the mall.

During the hiring process, I gradually learned that the kiosk is owned by a large retail chain, which is owned by an even larger retail chain, which happens to be a corporate juggernaut. I've been working for them at various locations in and out of the kiosk and their stores for about a week, and my attorney has advised me that I shouldn't disclose the name of the company, but here are a few hints:

They sell books.

They sell music.

They sell movies.

They sell coffee.

They're not Barnes & Noble.

I've been perusing their employee field handbook little by little, and one section that really kinda' cracks me up is the explanation of their "Blogging Policy".

And here it is:

"While the company values individuality and community, those employees who choose to keep a personal web log or "blog", or other types of internet posting must keep in mind that some Company Policies may prohibit certain blogging activities:

* Employees are prohibited from engaging in blogging activity during work hours. Company equipment, including computers and electronic systems, is primarily for business use, and must not be used for blogging.

* Employees must respect copyright, fair use, and financial disclosure laws, and are not permitted to use company logos and marks in blogs.

* The company reserves the right to take disciplinary action in the event an employee's blogging activity violates this or other company policies."

What gives? I've never had a job that has been so strict about their "Blogging Policy".

Come to think of it, I've never even had a job that has ever even had a need to address their "Blogging Policy" in the first place.

At any rate, I'd better go ahead and wrap this up for now. My supervisor's lunch break is almost over, and he'll be back here any second now.

Blog ya later.

I made a new friend in the restroom at the mall.

2007-10-22T01:41:00.000-04:00

I was tooling around at Easton Town Center today when suddenly, I heard the men's room a-callin'. As I was using the water closet, I did as I always do: stare straight at the wall in front of me for the entire duration of the urination session, as to avoid any uncomfortable eye contact with any nearby piss patrons. I did this today, even though I was the only person in the powder room.

Right as I was wrapping up my business, I heard someone walk into the restroom and into the toilet stall, followed by the distinct sound of pee going into the toilet. This was accompanied by an obnoxiously loud sigh of relief that lasted for about twenty or thirty seconds. This poor sap must have really had to go.

As I was washing my hands, I saw him in the mirror as he walked out of the stall and started making his way in my direction, obviously to use the sink next to mine. He was wearing a Buckeyes T-shirt and looked like a common thirtysomething family man. All of a sudden, my Spidey sense started tingling as I thought to myself, "Awww, shit. He's gonna talk to me."

"How's it going?", he asked excitedly as he pumped some soap into his palm.

"Pretty good, and yourself?", I replied.

"Good!", he said, still kinda giddy.

I then started feeling really awkward, and thought that I should add another two cents until he was out of my way, because he was standing right in between me and the hand dryer.

"Yep, just another day at the mall...", I blurted out, wincing at myself as I said it. At this point, I felt totally fucking gay.

But it seemed as though he was thrilled to continue the conversation. He was like, "Yeah, the wife and I..."

Right at that moment, he hit the button on the hand dryer, but just continued to keep on jabbering. I couldn't hear a damn word he was saying, so I just kind of nodded at him every five seconds or so. He said something to make himself laugh as the dryer shut off, so just I kind of humored him with a chuckle.

As he was walking out, he wished me a good day, and I replied, "You too, man, good luck."

He exclaimed, "Thanks! I'm gonna need it!", and busted into a fit of boisterous laughter as he walked out the door.

All things considered, this incident was not quite as uncomfortable as when someone at the urinal next to you tries to strike up a conversation in mid-pee, but it was definitely somewhere in the same ballpark.

Either way, I dried my hands for about ten minutes, just to make sure that some distance would be made between him and me before I was to exit the bathroom.

Although I was a bit curious to see what his wife looks like.

Fear and Loathing at the Post Office.

2007-10-16T23:39:00.000-04:00

I usually hit up the Post Office about four of five times a week to ship out all of the crap that I sell on eBay. I always make it a point to go there after closing time, because there is still access to the lobby, which has one of those automated machines that weighs packages and prints the postage, so that you can quickly apply the labels and drop your stuff into the chute. Pretty damn convenient, if you ask me. Of course, you can also use this machine when the place is open, but I always wait until later, because there's always some crazy lady there whose job it is to show people how to use the machine. She'd seen me in there about a dozen times, and tried each time to show me how to use it, even though I had already done so a billion times. I just had to begin to avoid her at all costs. The bitch just gives me the creeps.

When I walked into the lobby, some guy who looked like Larry David was using the machine, so I went ahead took a place in line behind him. Over the course of the ten plus minutes that he was taking to complete his transaction, a couple of girls had joined the line behind me. One of them smelled like a banana, but I couldn't tell which one.

Finally, The guy using the machine took his printed receipt and walked away. I didn't have much to do there, and I was kind of hurrying through it, because having people waiting behind me there always makes me nervous, and besides, the odor of bananas was getting pretty fucking strong.

Right in the middle of my transaction, one of my contact lenses fell right out of my eye and onto the top of my cheek. I grabbed it with tip of my index finger, because I didn't really want something that I press against my eyeball to get stuck to the floor of the Post Office. I couldn't exactly try to put it back in right there, because I wasn't done with my transaction, and there were still people in line behind me. What I always do in a situation like this is to put the lens on my tongue until I make it to a safe spot to put it back into my eye. The problem is that I was chewing on a piece of Juicy Fruit. I swiftly took the wad of gum out of my mouth with my left hand, threw it into a small trash bucket that was right there, and put the lens into my mouth with my right hand. If I do say so myself, it was was a pretty damn smooth move.

I finished up the transaction and quickly headed over to the table behind me to apply the postage to the packages and get the hell out of dodge, only to see that the Larry David guy was back at the end of the line for some reason. As I got the stuff ready and threw it all into the package chute, I could see him out of the corner of my eye, staring at me with a look of utter disgust on his face.

Yeah, well, fuck that guy.

AND the horse he rode in on.

I don't really know where to put this stuff.

2007-10-02T05:16:00.000-04:00

Every time I move, which seems to have been several times over the past few years (most recently of which was about a month ago), I always get rid of a whole shitload of stuff first. This time, although I did trash a great deal of baggage, I also threw some of my gear into storage. I paid a visit to my public storage facility today, hoping to straighten it up a bit, trim some of the fat out of it, and maybe even find a thing or two that I might consider worthy of taking home and decorating my new place with.

I actually did accomplish a far sight more than I usually do when I go out there. Every time I'm at the unit, I have every intention of bustin' in there and gettin' my hands good and fuckin' dirty. But most of the time, I just open up the door and stand there looking at all of the stuff in a state of bewildered delirium for a few minutes, only to decide to save this chore for a later date. I then promptly get back into my car and get the fuck out of dodge.

But this time, I did manage to spend an hour or so going through a box or two of my old belongings. here are a few things that I decided to drag along home with me.

A seven-ounce juice glass featuring the likeness of Spectreman, the title character of one of my favorite TV shows of all time. I bought it on eBay about six or seven years ago. Fuckin' score!

A very informative pamphlet that I picked up at the Florida State Fair about ten years ago. I've since given it another read, and I didn't really learn anything that I hadn't remembered from the last time I picked it up. But then, the whole "And What To Do About It" part doesn't quite apply to me, because I don't really have any children of my own, and I'm not going to be out and about at Target and such looking for random kids on drugs, just so that I can feel a bit more intuitive than I actually am for being able to call them out on it.

And finally, this wicked awesome sticker of Lando Calrissian.

No explanation necessary on this one.

Cable guys are tops in my book.

2007-09-18T08:25:00.000-04:00

My first experience with a cable installer was a few years ago at an apartment that I had just moved into back in Florida. The main objective of his visit was to hook up the cable in the living room, which went off without a hitch. I needed to get some high speed internet action set up in my bedroom, but I thought that it would have to be done during a whole different appointment and such. Not so. The dude had a modem in his truck that was ready to go, even though the gig was just to set up the cable TV, nothing else. He must have been a boy scout as a young man, you know, how those fucking kids are always talking about "being prepared" and all that jazz.

The next time that I had to deal with a cable installation technician was after I had moved into another pad in Florida at which I was keeping my computer right on the other side of a doorway from the cable jack. There was no previous cable television involved at this residence, and nobody with whom I lived cared to have it. All that was necessary was to hook on up with the ol' internet, as I can't really stand to go a day or two without knowing what the hell is going on in the sordid life of one Ms. Tila Tequila, and using the internet is key in that process. Within about ten seconds, he had the modem hooked up, and the cord neatly placed in brackets above and on the sides of the doorway. Top notch job.

When I moved to Columbus a year ago, the guy setting up the cable in my room was being ridiculously thorough.

He was like, "Now, do you want to record shows from the cable onto your VCR?"

He asked about ten questions that were very similar to that one, and after each one, he would add, "Now, there's a reason why I'm asking you this."

He would then go on to explain said reasons, pretty much a bunch of stuff I had already known, but I didn't want to be rude and interrupt him, and besides, he was kinda' crackin' me up. At any rate, he programmed the remote control in about five seconds, and it was the first time that the clicker would turn both my TV and cable box on or off at the same time with the press of only one button. I have to admit that I was a bit tickled by it.

I have recently moved into a new place. It had been decided that it would be a cost-effective move to switch to a different cable service. The cable dude was at my place for about three hours, and during the whole process, he did stick around to make sure that everything worked and such, but he wasn't quite as helpful as the last few guys. The first thing that popped onto the internet was news about Owen Wilson's suicide attempt, and he walked into my room as I was reading it, looks over my shoulder and says, "Yeah that's crazy about Owen, isn't it?"

I like how he referred to Owen Wilson as "Owen". Like the cable guy is such good buddies with Owen Wilson that they're on a first name basis with each other and shit.

At any rate, even though he was at my place for the better part of a day, he failed to program my remote. I could go ahead and do it myself easily enough, but I find it amusing that every time I adjust the volume, it switches straight to channel six. I've gotten used to it by now.

All things considered, I'm a bit disappointed that none of these dudes ever tried to befriend me and insisted that we play Porno Password with my family.

That would've been awesome.

Here's another MySpace banner that caught my attention, and kinda' pissed me off.

2007-09-14T04:29:00.000-04:00

What the heck is going on around here?

The last time I checked, Billy Bob Thornton's last name had an "N" in between the "R" and the "T".

Okay, if you're the person responsible for posting ads to promote a film on the internet, here's the very least you could do:

Spell the lead actor's name correctly, gosh darn it!

Whew. Okay.

Glad to have that off my chest.

The movie looks awesome.

Anyone wanna go see it?

I learned something today that I might be wise to take under advisement.

2007-09-07T04:00:00.000-04:00

I was bouncing around on MySpace this afternoon, when I ran into a banner that, for some reason, I found quite intriguing.

And here it is!

My first instinct would have been to answer "I don't care", because, really, what kind of a fucking asshole gives a rat's ass about whether or not they're going to live or die?

At any rate, I didn't bother casting my vote, as had I done so, these people would have mailed me a new iPod Nano, and that's the last thing I need. I have enough crap lying around my apartment as it is.

However, my curiousity had been sparked on up, so I sniffed around for an alternate method of finding out exactly when this fateful moment that they speak of is going to occur.

And here it is!

I'll go ahead and mark that day on my calendar.