AmericanIdol-Survivor-RealWorld-RealWorld/RoadRulesChallenge-AmazingRace-BigBrother, and those are just the ones I'll admit to watching...
NO MORE
It's a medical fact that you don't learn anything from watching TV... Actually, that's not true: I learned how to get my own way from Anna Nicole... That's besides the point, TV does nothing to stimulate the brain, in fact it does the exact opposite. While Veronica and Rachel are squeezing into their "Future M.I.L.F." t-shirts, my cranium cavity is being cleaned out! I vow, to no one in particular, that this summer there will be NO TV for me. ("House M.D." doesn't count, it's educational)
This could be hard. I'll do my best. Big Brother starts on July 7th by the way...
Recovering TV-a-holic
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Traffic Jam
A construction-induced coma is never a pleasant thing. Sitting in one spot for twenty minutes for no apparent reason when you only need to travel several feet to the mirage that is the distant junction is not my idea of entertainment. That is, until I glanced in my rear view mirror and spotted - you'll never guess - that the guy behind me, the driver, not the passenger, had decided to put his vehicle vexation to use. HE WAS PLAYING THE TRUMPET!
Picture it if you will; imagine trying to squeeze a trumpet between you and the steering wheel: It won't fit. Well, it's important to keep an eye on traffic, I mean, you don't want to get honked while you're honking, honky. You have to kind of cock your head while simultaneously keeping eyes front and center. I'm sure he caught me watching him in my mirror but it didn't seem to phase him. I just couldn't help it. I couldn't drag my eyes away. What made it worse was that I even sacrificed Rush Bimbo to try and hear what he was playing. I turned that sound way down, I even opened my window a crack - I know, I was risking it; carcinogens and everything. But I couldn't hear a peep. He wasn't faking. His cheeks were puffed right up, there was definitely effort being put forth. Maybe he had one of those muffler things up the bell (that's the correct terminology, I looked it up).
Picture it if you will; imagine trying to squeeze a trumpet between you and the steering wheel: It won't fit. Well, it's important to keep an eye on traffic, I mean, you don't want to get honked while you're honking, honky. You have to kind of cock your head while simultaneously keeping eyes front and center. I'm sure he caught me watching him in my mirror but it didn't seem to phase him. I just couldn't help it. I couldn't drag my eyes away. What made it worse was that I even sacrificed Rush Bimbo to try and hear what he was playing. I turned that sound way down, I even opened my window a crack - I know, I was risking it; carcinogens and everything. But I couldn't hear a peep. He wasn't faking. His cheeks were puffed right up, there was definitely effort being put forth. Maybe he had one of those muffler things up the bell (that's the correct terminology, I looked it up).
Monday, June 06, 2005
They're coming to get you, Barbara...
I'm so excited! George A. Romano's Land of the Dead will be out in a couple of weeks. My old PDG buddy, Jonathan, and I have been anticipating this for a long time! Dennis Hopper and John Leguisamo - should be good. I can't wait!
Although nothing beats the original Romano trio I did enjoy the latest remake of Dawn of the Dead (great chainsaw scene), and something that really scares the pants off me everytime I watch it is Shawn of the Dead. Yes, I know, it's meant to be a comedy. I think that's why it's so scary. It's very true to the English sense of humor and habits. It really is realistic and that's why it freaks me out. I have to check the closet before I go to bed after I watch it. Call me weird.
Although nothing beats the original Romano trio I did enjoy the latest remake of Dawn of the Dead (great chainsaw scene), and something that really scares the pants off me everytime I watch it is Shawn of the Dead. Yes, I know, it's meant to be a comedy. I think that's why it's so scary. It's very true to the English sense of humor and habits. It really is realistic and that's why it freaks me out. I have to check the closet before I go to bed after I watch it. Call me weird.
We have legs!
Frog's legs, well, technically toad's legs. I thought it was a poop, but no, it was actually the beginnings of little legs which are now fully formed but still tiny...
Friday, June 03, 2005
Acid Trip to the Stars
You should really read A Trip to the Stars by Nicholas Christopher. It's by far the most enjoyable book I've ever read. If you don't believe me you should read it. Everyone I've ever given it to (yes, you give it. You don't loan it. Because it's too good to give back), has fallen in love with it. If you don't believe me you should read it. You may have some trouble finding it, unless you go to Amazon.com... Christopher is truly gifted and yet, for some reason, his books (except Veronica, which is the only one I don't like), are very hard to find.
Stars takes you on the most amazing Arabian Knights type journey. You'll learn about exotic spiders, stars, angels, the desert, magic, flying, the Vietnam war and an assortment of other topics that took him over four years to research and combine into a fantasy of breath-taking coincidences and intense characters. Christopher uses his imagination to its fullest extent. To my chagrin, in each of his books he also includes at least one bizarre, painful chapter that I'm sure must be acid induced. I usually struggle through those, chapters that is, not acid trips...
Please don't conclude, even after reading the great reviews on Amazon, that Stars is a science fiction type story. It truly isn't. It's a thriller, a mystery, a romance, a true masterpiece. If you don't believe me you should read it.
Stars takes you on the most amazing Arabian Knights type journey. You'll learn about exotic spiders, stars, angels, the desert, magic, flying, the Vietnam war and an assortment of other topics that took him over four years to research and combine into a fantasy of breath-taking coincidences and intense characters. Christopher uses his imagination to its fullest extent. To my chagrin, in each of his books he also includes at least one bizarre, painful chapter that I'm sure must be acid induced. I usually struggle through those, chapters that is, not acid trips...
Please don't conclude, even after reading the great reviews on Amazon, that Stars is a science fiction type story. It truly isn't. It's a thriller, a mystery, a romance, a true masterpiece. If you don't believe me you should read it.
Hmmmm
Okay, what do I do now? I've replied to all the good wishes I got regarding the exit from PDG. I've tended to my 42 babies. I've downloaded and printed out a 13 page proposal I have to work on next week. I've read some T.S. Elliot. I've blogged for a bit. What now?
I'm not in the mood to study for the LEED test. I promised myself I would start earnestly studying at the beginning of June. What's the date? June 5th? Oh well...
I may just go and see what's on the box. And wait for sleep. If the pattern continues I've got about an hour and a half.
Bollocks.
I'm not in the mood to study for the LEED test. I promised myself I would start earnestly studying at the beginning of June. What's the date? June 5th? Oh well...
I may just go and see what's on the box. And wait for sleep. If the pattern continues I've got about an hour and a half.
Bollocks.
Toadpole Setback
Snails. Lots and lots of snails. Don't they use up the oxygen or eat all the algae or something? I know I should state the reason for their eviction on the notice. I just don't know what it is. Should I be spending precious minutes picking the darn things out one by one with tweezers? Does anyone know the truth behind their agenda?
Where's the off button?
It's 2:30 AM. Anyone who knows me knows that I have to get my 8 hours. That's two nights in a row now. What's going on? I'm not sleepy. Not even a little bit. I'm starting to panic. I'll feel like a dog-poop tomorrow.
Farewell, it's been great...oh, screw that, good riddance!
Well, Laura started the trend of just unexpectedly throwing in the towel at work. I had to follow suit and I couldn't leave it too long, I didn't want the fad to wear off. So, on Wednesday I quit.
Now, when you do the right thing and you give them the courtesy two-week notice, you expect them to do you the same courtesy of treating you like a piece of shite for two-weeks. But no, not them. Knee-Jerk Reaction. Maybe it was just jerk reaction, anyway... not only was I told to leave that very same day, but I'm not getting paid for my two-weeks of stewing at home. Bastards! This may seem illegal, and has been questioned by more than one concerned amigo, but apparently it's up to the owner's discretion. As far as I'm concerned he doesn't know the meaning of the word.
Bitter.
Now, when you do the right thing and you give them the courtesy two-week notice, you expect them to do you the same courtesy of treating you like a piece of shite for two-weeks. But no, not them. Knee-Jerk Reaction. Maybe it was just jerk reaction, anyway... not only was I told to leave that very same day, but I'm not getting paid for my two-weeks of stewing at home. Bastards! This may seem illegal, and has been questioned by more than one concerned amigo, but apparently it's up to the owner's discretion. As far as I'm concerned he doesn't know the meaning of the word.
Bitter.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Ode to Kitty
In honor of the deceased, I thought "Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat" was an appropriate farewell.
It's long, so here's my favorite part:
In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright;
Every now and then he has a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he's keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew
That he walking up and down the station;
You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,
Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.
But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police
If there's anything they ought to know about:
When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait--
For Shimbleshanks will help you get out!
He gives you a wave of his long brown tail
Which says: 'I'll see you again!
You'll meet me without fail on the Midnight Mail
The Cat of the Railway Train.'
T.S. Elliot
Poor Shimbleshanks, you never even made it to the tracks...
It's long, so here's my favorite part:
In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright;
Every now and then he has a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he's keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew
That he walking up and down the station;
You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,
Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.
But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police
If there's anything they ought to know about:
When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait--
For Shimbleshanks will help you get out!
He gives you a wave of his long brown tail
Which says: 'I'll see you again!
You'll meet me without fail on the Midnight Mail
The Cat of the Railway Train.'
T.S. Elliot
Poor Shimbleshanks, you never even made it to the tracks...
Kitten Killer
How do I redeem myself? I killed a poor, innocent, tiny kitten yesterday. I don't mean an unavoidable hit-and-run type killing - I mean a slow-speed drive-over. Thu-thump. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to murder the sweet, furry critter. It was kinda, sorta unavoidable... Traffic was backed up behind me after a 10 minute wait for the train to cross the tracks, traffic was already speeding by in the next lane. What could I do? If I had put it in park and tried to rescue the floundering feline, I would have been a victim of road rage myself, I'm sure of it!
All I can say is, God, I am extremely sorry for killing one of your precious creatures. I actually cried for the next three minutes until I got to work.
I feel terrible.
All I can say is, God, I am extremely sorry for killing one of your precious creatures. I actually cried for the next three minutes until I got to work.
I feel terrible.
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