She Likes It

there's an old man sitting next to me makin love to his gin and tonic

 grainy keys
 Olympia, WA - March 2009

Seriously, can't believe it's June already. This year has been crazy. And by crazy, I mean, not much has been going on, what with me being at home trying to conserve funds while applying for the same jobs that a thousand other people are applying for as well. Sigh. And this blog used to aspire to be about funny stories.

It's 10 a.m., is it too early to fix a drink?

I suppose I should be taking this time, it has been almost 4 months afterall, to be writing. I haven't written a Metblogs post in ever and not much has been going on here either. Motivation, it has left the building. Probably went to the same place as Cassassin's ability to use the box.

Breakfast may be in order this morning. Ooh. I do have bloody mary fixings.

I am breaking down and seeing Jens Lekman this evening. Swedish pop sounds like a great opportunity to be bouncy and happy, plus I have yet to visit the newly reopened Crocodile.

Just started a new book and this quote reminded me of the Companion Cube for some reason, "I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends, I have heard of little else these last twenty years at least." Heh.

grumble grumble

Ahhh look at the pretty trees.
April 2008, Rocky Mountain National Park

I've discovered that getting in early is no guarantee that one will get any work done. I got in around 7:30 and am completely unmotivated and tired. In fact, I've done probably the same amount of work as I would have done had I come in an hour later. This message goes out to my old boss back in Columbus who was so caught up in my being 2 minutes late that she never focused on the fact that I got my work done. Grr.

It probably isn't helping that I had some annoying work emails waiting for me in the old inbox on top of the fact that I was awakened about an hour and a half early this morning. Note to self: using the cell as an alarm clock has its drawbacks.

So, you can see, I'm totally crabby this morning. I pity the fool who calls me for help anytime in the next two to three hours.

P.S. I think sitting here alone for 8 plus hours a day is starting to get to me.

P.S.

Our cat smells like poop.

Wherein I bitch and moan

about the shit that arrives in my email on a daily freakin basis.

Exhibit A:

WTF with Manaheim Steamroller?  Trans-Siberian Orchestra?  BLUES FREAKIN TRAVELER?  God, what have I done to offend you?  Seriously, because I once worked with a woman who decided that Christmas music needed to be played continuously, non-stop, all the time from Halloween until the end of January.  And by "Christmas music" she meant the one cd she owned of that Steamroller crap. It was the sort of treatment that would get anyone to hate ANY music. EVER. Plus, the small teensy fact that I really hated that woman's guts anyway. She was an asshat...and I don't use that term lightly.

ANYWAY. If it's not already apparent, I am vaguely insulted by the suggestion that I would want to not only be notified, but possibly attend, these lame ass concerts. No offense if you like these bands, but they are kind of on the non-hip side of the line. Also? Need I go into my treatise against large venues and/or anything with "arena" in the name.  Plus, the seats at The Moore hurt my ass.

Okay. Rant over. Thank you for listening.

sometimes one just isn't looking for a bargain

Last night I had a date with Beard Boy.  We took a leisurely (12 minute) cruise across the bay and had dinner at Palin Thai.  Afterwards, we went into Bartell's to pick up a few things and ended up buying about 23 candy bars.  While in the drug store, I happened to notice this:

And I gotta tell you, it made me add to the list of things that one should never get on sale.

1. Sushi,
2. Lasik eye surgery, and now
3. Condoms.

I understand that the store doesn't want to throw out merchandise, but it just seems so irresponsible to me. I mean, really, the few dollars you save now might cost you 18 years of your life (and then some. Hi, Mom!).

If that thought wasn't terrifying enough, when we exited the store we saw this half-child-half-plant mutant:

Look at the bonesshoes! Thank GOD I had all that candy to restore my nerves once we got home.

ALERT ALERT ALERT

For no good reason, today, I am crabby. Let this post be a warning to all.

Of course this warning is a little late for all the poor innocents I beheaded this morning.  But really, they should have been more observant.  I mean, I was carrying a battleaxe. One would think that might set off a few personal alarms.

A couple of months ago, I went to Portland for work.  While there, I met a woman who lives in Colorado and quickly developed a non-sexual crush on her.  She is potentially the coolest person I've ever met.  She is the type of person who thinks of something that she wants to do and then...get this, just does it. Oh sure, it seems simple, but really how many people live on a completely different continent than the one they were born on and are skydivers and make music and back up on highway-type bridges? Not many, I tell you. Plus, she's smart and cute.

I think this woman is making me more crabby because today when I saw that she was selling her custom made parachuting rig in order to move to Germany, I realized that I made the statement a few years back that I would move overseas and I only got as far as Seattle.  OH sure, Seattle is awesome, but is it Aix-en-Provence? Auckland? Mother Fucking Montreal even? No, no it is not.

Bleh.  Good thing it's Friday.  I need a cocktail.  Who's in?

P.S. If the woman in my office doesn't stop hovering at my door, I can't be held accountable for my actions.

He wouldn't shut his pie hole

I am such a lucky duck! I won tickets and went to see Golden Smog at the Showbox last night. Okay, so it looked like everyone who wanted tickets got them, but still, I didn't care. I got to see a band I like a lot for free.  Yay!

I do have a question though.  At some point early in the show a puff of smoke rose above the crowd. I noticed, nudged Beard Boy, and smirked.  Not two seconds later security came through and removed the guy who was smoking. Super quick crowd "protection" there. Later, at the end of the show some asshole was heckling the band: demanding that they play Glad and Sorry and shouting out, "Play something we can sing along to."  You know, standard asshole schtick. I want to know why security didn't take him out.  He was far more annoying than a couple of puffs of second hand maryjane and they didn't even glance his way. Why?

When I rule the world, hecklers will be stoned.

Noses, toes and no beer

I totally can't believe this shit. So, I signed up Beard Boy and myself to volunteer for the Seattle International Beer Festival that's going on at the end of June, right? And somehow, somehow, that bastard was accepted and me, not so much. What's up with that? I've totally started to obsess.

Okay, maybe not "started to obsess" so much as added to the list of things I'm already obsessing about. For instance, every time an IT dude calls me, I immediately turn off my browser and clear my cache. Just in case.

Yes, I'm a freak.

But I'm not the only one. Case in point: last Friday I was riding the bus to work. Now, I usually take the 7:07 bus in order to leave myself time to get coffee and because I like eavesdropping on the other regular riders. This day, however, I was a little too slow in the morning and ended up having to take the 7:19. So there I was, minding my own business, blanking staring at the riders across from me when I noticed that the man across from me was reading some sort of Opera journal. Who knew those existed? Anyway, it piqued my interest and while I was trying to figure out the name of the journal, I noticed him digging in his nose. I mean, really going at it. I don't want to gross you out too much, so I'll just say swirling was involved.

I know! Gross! I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt because he seemed really into his journal and maybe his nose itched and he was picking unconciously. But wait, there's more...yes, you knew it was coming. A second later, he put that same finger in his mouth. I don't believe I've witnessed a person eating their boogers since pre-kindergarten. God. A grown Opera journal reading fairly normal looking man eating his boogers in the most public of places, the bus. There's no illusion of privacy there! Not that him doing it in private would make it any better, but at least I wouldn't have to watch.  I'm shuddering now just thinking about it.

But wait! There's STILL more. So, I tore my eyes away from this foul deed and looked down...to stare directly at the mangled feet of the woman across from me. And I am not exaggerating. No, in fact, I think mangled may be understating! Now, I'm sorry if you've got deformed feet, lady, but have the decency NOT to wear open toed shoes. That's just not right. I don't even like looking at regular feet and this? My GOD, what had I done to deserve this?

It was at this point that my head exploded. I mean, booger eating and mangled feet are too much for me at any point in time, let alone at 7:30 a.m.? Before coffee? I couldn't cope. Especially since all this was on top of me accidentally throwing the conditioner bottle on my foot in the shower that morning. I should add, that although my foot was not mangled, merely bruised, I still covered it up so as not to gross out random strangers on the bus. I, my friend, am considerate like that.

And to think they don't want me to pour beer. Three words: Stop the insanity!

Poop and shit

You know what pisses me off? Okay, I do know that making a list of things that don't piss me off would be easier, but do you know what pisses me off today? Yes, it is my mother fucking printer. I hate that god damned thing. First off, it's loud. I cannot answer my phone and actually hear people when it's printing. Second off (is that a phrase? It is now bitches.) Second off, it's EXTRA loud when it's complaining that there's no paper in there even though there is p l e n t y of GOD DAMNED paper in there. Please, please, please printer, stop pretending to need something when you got plenty of that something in your paper tray. Get it? Got it? JESUS.

And while we're on the subject of office supplies/machinery being douches, I really hate it when staplers don't do their jobs. You know, like you're trying to staple a stack of papers and the stupid staple gets all bent up weird or doesn't go through the whole stack? I mean, thousands of years of evolution and we can't build a freakin' stapler that will work consistently?! That's no intelligent design, people. That's retarded design. Okay, I know it's terribly gauche to say retarded, but I can't stop it.

So my printer and staplers, they're on my shit list. Also on my shit list? My dumb ass home computer. Yes, it's still blown up. I hate it. I hate it because I'm going to have to wipe my hard drive and it's not so much the pictures and rescue back-up crap that's on there, but now I'm going to have to figure out how to get all those programs again that I maybe didn't actually pay for myself. ARGH.

What else can I bitch about? Oh yeah, I just spent 10 minutes in the bathroom just now because I the stupid toilet paper roll wouldn't give me more than scraps. I really really hate that. I would have kicked the damn thing, but um, yeah, the pants around my ankles didn't allow my foot to go up that high.

Also? The work email is broke. It's a confluence of machinery disfunction around here. I swear it is not user error. Well, I hope it's not user error, cuz then I'd have to kick my own ass.

But, there is good news around here. The Economist sent me a package of goodies that included one plastic turd (as pictured above). I love it. In fact, it's sitting on my desk right now ready to be noticed by any and all. I hope the cleaners don't toss it out.

You know what else? Sitting at home I have a newly purchased Star Wars egg decorating kit just waiting to be used. I can't wait to make my Yoda and R2 unit eggs. They are going to be so rad they will blow away all computer based hatred in my apartment. Life will be good again.

I wouldn't say I've been missing it, Bob.

Is there anyone out there that doesn't love Television Without Pity? Well, okay, except those freaks who don't like television at all, is there anyone out there who doesn't like TWOP? That site is fabulous. I tried once to read some of the copy-cats and while they were entertaining, they were nothing like the full-on 14+-page recap of an hour's worth of TV. I even read their recaps of shows I'd never watch EVER, such as Seventh Heaven. Okay, maybe I watched it once, but not ever again! I swear.

So today I was reading awesome Jacob's recap of last week's Battlestar Galactica (yes, I'm a dork) when I came across this gem, "everything that happens has the immediacy and the viscerality of life, and none of the follow-through of fiction." I had to immediately cut and paste.

You see, it's a semi-sickening, somewhat endearing fact that every single time Beard Boy and I watch a movie, and we do watch a lot of movies, thanks Netflix!, regardless of genre or artistic merit, we end up having the exact same discussion. No matter where we start the discussion off, we could be talking about something as mundane as what other movies a particular actor was in, but somehow we always end up with me arguing for realism and him arguing for storytelling principles. We do try to vary it a bit by citing different examples and applying it to different movies, but really, this is The Discussion. I wonder what that means about us? Heh. Heh.

For example, after viewing High Tension a week or so ago, we both started off by ranting and raving about the bull-fucking-shit ending the director, Alexandre Aja, pulled on us. Let me tell you, we were PISSED, PO-ed, hacked off, aaangry. We spent a good half hour, maybe more, bitching about what an utter disappointment that movie was and finally came to the conclusion that nothing is quite so upsetting in the movie watching realm than to have such a well-made, extremely promising movie wait until 4/5ths of the way through and then just turn around and take a dump in your DVD player with some made-up, cheating, stupid-ass ending. Seriously. Did I mention PISSED? Which doesn't bode well for that new Hills Have Eyes movie does it? Anyway. We were having said big frenzied discussion about how hard it is to make a good horror/slasher flick and what people do to make them terrible and blah de blah when of course I strayed into the its-got-to-be-something-the-viewer-can-relate-to realm and BAM we were off. Again with my, it's better when it's more true to life and screw the neat little bows and always with his the characters have to make some sort of arc for me to be invested. Clearly an argument that will never be settled between us. But it's good, it's nice that we don't agree on everything because how can you have discussions with a person everyday when all you say is, "Wow. I totally agree. Next?" Bor-ing.

Yes, I'm glad we discuss. In fact, just last night we had a great conversation going that ended so beautifully.

BB: "If that were true, then a person with an IQ of 40 could become president."

<pause>

Me: "Aha! Slam dunk!"

Point? Nah, not today. I'm too excited about going home tonight (Friday night, I might add), ordering a pizza and watching the season finale of Battlestar. You know, I don't think I've been this in love with a TV show since 7th He21 Jump Street.

Ha! I've just outed myself as a geek AND old. Good one, Peter.

Illustration from Gaping Void.