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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Sharc's LiveJournal:
| Monday, February 2nd, 2004 | |
| 7:36 am | End of an Era? Well it looks the end of an era is near; I'm leaving Atlanta for my real home of Tennessee. I arrived here December 27, 1997 thinking I'd be hear a couple years and would move on, but something happened on the way to heaven. This Saturday I'm having a Going Away Party at the Globe Theatre. Ulises & I will be spinning along with a few other friends. I'm inviting all my friends who I have and haven't kept up with to party down and go out in style. It's gonna be hella fun! |
| Saturday, December 27th, 2003 | |
| 12:00 pm | DUI Roadblock Ends After 45 Minutes I celebrated Christmas in Nashville the past few days and had a good time. I didn't do too much drinking like I have in the past, but many people did! As a matter of fact, this past weekend the city of Mt. Juliet set up a roadblock to check for people driving under the influence The roadblock lasted exactly 45 minutes because the police had arrested so many people they had no more officers capable of conducting the roadblock anymore. I wonder, is the legal limit too low or are people just fucking stupid? I think it's both. |
| Wednesday, October 8th, 2003 | |
| 1:12 pm | The Terminator Wins And Apollo Creed is Next! I can't help but laugh at California. They just elected the Terminator as their governor. Shit, he can't be much worse than Gray Davis. If we does well and runs for re-election will his motto be "I'll Be Back?" One of the weirdest things about this election isn't that Arnold won, but the fact that not one but TWO governors starred in the same movie, Predator. Makes you wonder if Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers) isn't next? On a personal note, I had to take a brief sanity check to get my business up and running. Well it's steady and paying some of the bills but I feel so weird when I tell people what it is I do. I've been selling imaginary good from an imaginary world online! I sell game credits to people who play the Star Wars Galaxies game for very good money! I was shocked one night when someone offered me $200 for 1 million credits, but damn, I can earn that in a few hours.. PLAYING A VIDEO GAME?! Sure there are no benefits, but I dont have to drive anywhere, I eat at home, and I work in my skivvies, oh and did I mention I play video games all day long? Well, I'm off to work: I've got to go kill Ewoks, Storm Troopers, Thugs, Bounty Hunters and dewbacks! WBW |
| Wednesday, July 30th, 2003 | |
| 3:38 pm | New Song I've been commissioned to work on the lyrics for one of DJ Assault's next toons. It's tentatively titled "Dirty Fucking Slut" and you'll know more when I have it. This is perfect timing considering my "real" job ends tomorrow at 5:00pm EST. Surprisingly enough I didn't get fired, the contract is up and there's no more work, so I'm taking my green Hulk ball and going home. I'm taking all of August off. I'm seriously thinking of bying a cigarette vending machine for the Globe Theatre. It's been a moral dilemma: Do I really want to sell 18 year olds cigarettes that will harm them and eventually kill them? But then again, you know what you're doing. I'm not forcing you to smoke the damned things and besides, if you're dumb enough to get hooked on the things, I have no problem gouging you $5.25 a pack to indulge your nasty-ass habit. |
| Tuesday, July 29th, 2003 | |
| 5:29 pm | The Sixth Grade Camp Out Fiasco When I was in 6th grade I convinced my parents to let me have a camp out at our house. They consented and I invited all the boys in the 6th grade. My parents wouldnt let us invite the girls to stay over much to our chagrin. We set up tents, and I invited all of my friends over to drive their 3-wheelers, etc. We had a lot of fun with little parental supervision, but when the sun went down, the shit hit the proverbial fan. It was funny when the rich black kid showed up. Everyone had brought a sleeping bag and a backpack or change of clothes. Taylor brought three bags, a TV, and enough food to last 2 weeks in the wilderness. he also brought a hair dryer, and enough personal hygienic products to make Mary Kay jealous. Eventually, like all mean little bastards do, we blinded Timmy Hamlin in a game of hide and seek with Taylor's talcum powder. It was quite funny to everyone except Timmy. While his tears trailed down his white face, We sat around telling stupid stories of beer, bitches, and how tough we were but things digressed when my pet Basset Hound Huffy walked up to the campsite. We had started playing the kid's game where you dare the other kid to do the dumbest thing he could possibly do in front of his friends. I'll never forget Mason Garrett's dare, and I'll never forget how Mickey Singer jerked my dog off in front of all the other 12 year olds at my 6th grade campfire. it was at that moment that I really wished I had been Timmy and had gotten the talcum powder in my eyes so I couldn't witness the bestial act. To make it worse, Micky pulled out lotion from Taylor's bag and used it on the dog! I never explained that to my dad when he asked me how the dog got lotion "all over his stomach." I mean what was I gonna say, "Uh, Mickey jerked the dog off on a dare and made $5." I mean $5 was a lot of money, but it wasn't THAT much! Mickey is a great guy. He served in the military and we both went to high school and college together, but we were never really close after that night at the campfire. He even owns his own business now. But I can't help looking at him and thinking "Dude, you jerked off my dog!" every time I see him now, which is limited to reunions and occasional run-ins. Oh, I'd never say anything, but I've thought it. And I know for damn sure that Mickey hasn't forgotten either. |
| Tuesday, July 22nd, 2003 | |
| 3:29 pm | Uncle Rum When I think of country and country living, one person sticks out in my mind, Uncle Rum. Uncle Rum was as country as pig shit and his whole lifestyle was too. I mean he lived on a farm in a shack of a house. Rum wasn't a real uncle, but he was some branched, distant member of the family. I think he was a second or third cousin, but no one is very clear as to how we were actually related. When you're "kin" it doesn't matter how, just that you are. Like most country folk, Uncle Rum didn't believe in going to the doctor. His doctor was another country-type, also known as Doctor Sam. For a while I went to a Christian school that Doctor Sam helped found, but Doctor Sam wasn't as up-to-date with modern medicine. Uncle Rum claimed Doctor Sam had killed more people than Hitler. which is probably why he didn't want Doctor Sam coming around for a visit. One time Uncle Rum let his leg get so gangrenous and infected that they had to amputate it. When Uncle Rum died my two uncles, Charlie and Clyde got drunk and prank called the man who had sold them the leg Mr. Cook also known as "The Leg Man.". They offered to sell Uncle Rum's leg back to Mr. Cook for a six-pack of Budweiser. It's no surprise that the Leg Man declined their offer. Uncle Rum house also didn't have an indoor bathroom. They had an outhouse in the back. Several years before I was born Aunt Lois had fallen in when the wooden seat rotted away. My father also told em stories of the times when he was a youngster that he and Uncle Clyde locked Aunt Lois in the outhouse. Sadly enough my most vivid memory of Aunt Lois is going to her funeral and watching the Major League Baseball All-Star Game in the back room with the mortician. All I remember is Willie Stargell hitting a homer for the National League. Believe it or not, but Uncle Rum at one time had been a pillar of the community. I believe he had even been sheriff of Wilson County at some point or another, but he owned a lot of farmland and was quite wealthy. He just never spent it. He was also worrisome, using the telephone to pester the piss out of anyone who was willing to pick up. I remember him calling my father at least a dozen times one December making sure he was going to come pick up his Christmas gift, a country ham. Whenever we would go to Uncle Rum's for a visit, usually on Sundays, my parents would tell me that if Uncle Rum offered me anything to eat, to politely decline. They repeatedly told me that was he was "nasty." That can be confusing to a young child like me. We had a lot of relatives we'd visit, and I couldn't keep up with who's who. As a matter of fact, I got confused while staying at my grandfather's house and wouldn't eat. My grandfather's wife, Mildred, would try to make me eat but I wouldn't. She finally asked me why I wouldn't eat when she knew I was hungry and I looked at her and said, "My parents told me not to eat here. They said you are nasty!" Of course you can imagine the shock on my confused little face when my mother walked in that evening and began eating the meatloaf Mildred had fixed for lunch. My most vivid memory of Uncle Rum is of him sitting in his wheelchair in his shack of a house, surrounded by all these mangy, half-starved dogs, offering me some pumpkin pie while my father sternly shook his head in the background. Damn that was some good pie! |
| Sunday, July 13th, 2003 | |
| 11:17 pm | Weekend Shenanigans To anyone who saw the sick, drunk idiot at the Chamber on Friday who passed out in his car, yeah, that be me... it's Sunday evening and my head STILL hurts. You should never mix shots when you're power drinking: cheap whiskey doesn't mix with Jager doesn't mix with Mike's Hard Lemonade doesn't mix with Bud Lite doesn't mix with Red Snappers. Any legal-aged idiot knows this, but when said idiot is in the middle of his or her binge, they are no longer thinking about what mixes. They're thinking "ARGH! I'm a pirate! HARHAR HAR!" I'm sure i made plenty of new friends (and enemies) over the past weekend, but the highlight had to be opening for Freaky Flow & Flipside Saturday at the Globe and subjecting all those poor junglists to 3 hours of intense UK hardhouse. Luckily my partner in crime from the night before, Kit Mobley, was there. While I passed out with my head in the passenger seat of the Miata (and my ass in the air) Kit managed to get in a fight and split his lip. Neither injury prevented us from throwing down the next night though. I mean come on, we're PIRATES! You should have seen the anxious little junglists as I played an extended set since Steve & Nat were running late. And when I dropped the Thriller remix right before Freaky Flow went on? Well, it was classic. I am amazed at how well Frances took my weekend shenanigans. If she came in at 9am on Saturday morning stinking of her own vomit and wanting oral sex, I'd probably kick her ass out! Especially if I had to be up for work in another 45 minutes. |
| Tuesday, July 8th, 2003 | |
| 4:02 pm | Dwayne Blue's Least Favorite Pet **NOTE: Because more and more people are reading my journal these days, I've changed the names of the people in the stories to protect the not-so-innocent.** ---------------------------------------- Growing up, Betty and Dwayne Blue were not only our neighbor's but my parent's closest friends. Dwayne owned a couple jewelry stores, one of which my mother ran, and had other various and sundry dealings in the works. Betty and Dwayne had three children together, and always had a bunch of pets. Dwayne and was one of those good-ole-boy types you loved to be around. Dwayne always had a story for everything. Dwayne was a natural salesman, he could sell a deaf person headphones, but when Dwayne was pissed off, god help you! Dwayne was a dog lover so it took a lot of cajoling from the kids before he let them have a cat. Dwayne eventually caved in and the Blue children had their first (and last) kitten. One summer weekend in the early 1980's the Blue's packed the family van and took off to Panama City Beach, Florida for a week-long vacation. Dwayne couldn't stay the whole time so he came back early. Dwayne didn't mind, he knew he'd get some peace and quiet at the house by himself, but little did he know what he was in for. One morning before he went to work the cat ran in the house. Instead of dealing with the cat then, Dwayne figured it would be fine in the house and he'd just let it out when he got home that evening. Unfortunately Dwayne didn't know his poor cat was sick with a case of the shits. After an evening shooting pool and drinking with his friends, Dwayne arrived home only to discover the family pet had shit everywhere! It had even shit on Miss Betty's new bed! Dwayne was drunk and pissed. He went to his gun cabinet, loaded his rifle and commenced to shoot the cat... in the house. The cat managed to make it to the foyer before Dwayne got him for good. Dwayne then threw the cat into the backyard where he unloaded another 15-20 rounds on the dead feline, for good measure. By the time Dwayne was doen shooting the cat, there was nothing left to bury. The Blue family never had another pet cat. |
| Thursday, June 26th, 2003 | |
| 2:21 pm | Nair for Men When I was at the gym last Wednesday, I noticed that they were giving free samples of something new, so I took two without thinking. The previous week they had been giving away the new Gatorade flavored water so I didn't think twice about it. It wasn't until I was at the car that I realized what it was, Nair for Men. It makes sense really. The only guys I know who shave their body hair are the narcissistic bodybuilders and my friend Chad. I used to shave my body hair, when I was about 30 pounds lighter and one of the previously mentioned narcissists, but those habits died when I realized I was spending $8 a week on razor blades. Suddenly the idea of Nair for Men wasn't so bad. Twenty minutes later, my arms were covered in the shit. I soon discovered that the only difference between Nair for women and Nair for men is one smells like shit and the other smells like shit for men. Surprisingly though, it really worked. I wiped all the hair off my arms in about ten minutes, excepting the spots I missed, but by then I had used all of the sample and my arms still had areas that hadn't been touched. I was smooth as a baby's ass on one side, and the werewolf on the other. This wasn't the first incident I've ever had with Nair though. In college we had a fraternity brother named "Vance" who always mooched whatever eh could find. If you were eating, he'd mooch part of your sandwich, if you were drinking, he'd mooch your beer, if you left your shampoo in the shower, he's mooch that too. It got to a point that no one could leave food in the fridge in fear of Vance. Several brothers were fed up with Vance but only one did anything about it. Adan noticed his expensive shampoo disappearing quite rapidly, and decided to put an end to the mooching. He bought a bottle of Nair and poured it in the shampoo bottle and began putting his own shampoo back in his room every time he showered. About a month went by and Vance walked in the room where Adan was sitting when one of the other brothers remarked at how much hair Vance seemed to be losing. Adan lost it and let everyone in on the secret. Funny enough, no one ever bothered to tell Vance, who went on using the Nair until he used everything in the bottle. Now that I know how well Nair works, I'm surprised Vance didn't go bald! Of course, he wasn't using Nair for Men! |
| Wednesday, June 18th, 2003 | |
| 12:20 pm | Indians, Job Firings, and Delivery Driving They finally fired my coworker, Sundar last week. He would have been fine if it hadn't been for the fact he a) couldn't understand English, b) was combative to other people, c) had the world's worst breath and c) was an idiot. Sundar the Vegetarian was a Java programmer who knew very little about Java Programming. You could sit him down and explain exactly what you wanted or needed, tell him what NOT to do, and he'd do the exact opposite. Sounds like having kids, huh? Working with Sundar was also different because his breath smelled like he had been eating shit sandwiches by the dozen. I would go to great lengths to buy gum and mints in order to offer them to Sundar, but he never understood and would decline. I think there's an acient proverb that fits this scenario, "If someone offers you a mint, take it." The mood in the office seemed much lighter on Monday, but it still sucks when you have to let someone go. I've been there before, like the time I got fired from Bela Roma Deli. I made a large delivery to this place and they got me excessively high. So I did what any other pothead would do in my situation: I drove home, ate an order I was supposed to deliver and took a nap. The next day the boss called and fired me. The day after, he called and rehired me since he was short two delivery drivers. That's how our relationship worked out. Timmy was a true African. He came from Nigeria and spoke in a deep voice with a British accent. He called me "Bucko" for reasons I may never know, but that's what I answered to when I was at the deli. He always sounded like he had to take a shit, but it was just his natural tone and inflection. Timmy's brother also worked at the deli while he was going to school. His name was something like Akinowandekawandazehelamaka but we just called him Akino to make things easier. I probably quit Bela Roma five times, and probably got fired just as many times, but when you live in a small college town like Knoxville, Tennessee, a good delivery driver is hard to find, and I was the next best thing, a shitty, pothead delivery driver. Sometiems when I'd quit/get fired I'd go across the street and work for the other restaurant, Salvador Deli. The job was great though. I got tipped mostly in weed since the typical college student (where I delivered) didn't have a lot of money. The delivery drivers would ante up at the end of the night and have a great smokeout. Timmy hired a cool as fuck night-shift manager named John B., and when the night was over, we'd pop open a six-pack of Molson Golden, and throw craps in the back room until 7am. Some mornings the place resembled a club more than a closed restaurant. Delivery drivers make decent money at the right restaurants. Sometimes I'd make $200 from delivery and craps, and sometimes nothing at all. It didn't really matter because it would just change hands the next night. I also saw some freaky shit when I was working at Bela Roma. I saw nude men and women, illegal acts, drunked idiots, potheads, and lard asses, but I wouldn't trade my memories of working at Bela Roma Deli for anything. Maybe Sundar should consider a career move. His driving couldn't be any worse than his coding. |
| Saturday, June 14th, 2003 | |
| 8:22 pm | The Vultures at Work I work on the eighth and highest floor in our building. It has a gorgeous view of the river, which I like to just look down on during my breaks, and a terrace which people rarely use. There are different bird feeders and flora adorning the area, so a lot of birds frequent the area, but one of the damnedest things I’ve ever seen are the two vultures that like frequent the area. If you’ve never seen a vulture, it’s a bald-headed red-faced creature and looks ugly as fuck. Apparently vultures aren’t too smart, because they try to attack their reflection in the glass. This can be particularly annoying when you’re in a serious, high-level office meeting and the damned things are ramming their beaks into the glass every second. We knock on the window to scare them but that only aggravates them more, and increases the persistence of their attack. |
| Wednesday, May 28th, 2003 | |
| 5:10 pm | ID is for Identification Some Muslim chick wants to sue the state of Florida because she doesn't want her face photographed for her drivers license for religious reasons. Well, I got news for that idiot, tough shit. They don't call it ID for Idiot! It's Identification, and if you aren't identified by your IDENTIFICATION then it may as well be called Waffle Soup because it's no longer identification! hey, if she doesnt want her picture made, that's cool, but she can't expect to drive. The bitch should be so lucky. In Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of her religion, women CAN'T DRIVE. Frankly, I wish this were true in the U.S. It would reduce the number of accidents by by 99%. and I think the veil isn't a bad idea either. I know a handful of women I wish would wear a veil. Some of them could even get away with a paper bag... or two. So the ACLU is hopping on this case, but frankly, she doesn't stand a chance. In all other Arab countries (where the women arent treated liek livestock) women must show their face on their identification. But if the Muslim formerly known as Sandra Kellar wins, what's to stop some idiot in a ski mask from claiming he worships the god of snow and it's against his religion to take it off. I can see the cop pulling him over now. "Son, the reason I pulled you over is we have a report that some guy in a ski mask just robbed the Stop N Go. May I see your ID... (pause) ...it's not him Fred. This guy's ski mask is red! Ok, you're free to go, and have a nice day Mr. Manson." When I was in college I had a slip cover picture of Beavis over my face on my identification. Only once can I recall anyone ever asking me to remove the Beavis slip. Of course that was the cop after I hit the turkey truck in Chattanooga, but that is another story... |
| Tuesday, May 27th, 2003 | |
| 12:01 pm | Casualty of the Cola Wars Last night I stopped at QuikTrip to get some cheap-grade petrol and a Coke...well, not really a Coke, a Pepsi, but since I'm in the South, everything is a Coke, right? It doesn't matter if you want a Mellow Yellow, Dr. Pepper, or Sunkist, it's all called a Coke down here which really makes no sense. But when I went inside the QT, it really was just Coke or Coke products! There were 10 rows of 20-ounce Cokes, but I couldn't find one single Pepsi! I was getting frustrated as I only drink Pepsi, not Coke, when I drink colas. I hunted high and low to no avail. I finally had to ask the store clerk where the Pepsis were. He pointed to the bottom left-hand side of the left-most cooler. I was astonished! How could you blatantly display Coke everywhere and only have one row of Pepsi?! I know Coke is headquartered in Georgia, but that was going too far! This was an obvious slight to Pepsi, and I wasn't happy! I asked the clerk what the problem was, and he too me something that horrified me, yet made a lot of sense. "Coke paid us to do it. Pepsi wouldn't pay us anything so we went with Coke." Coke is sponsoring the Quik Trip?! Have the cola wars gotten so bad that the Quik Trip will only carry Coke and the BP will only carry Pepsi?! How long before I have to go to the exclusive Shell station for my Twix bar and the Amoco for my M&Ms;? Not only that, but I looked at the pricing and it made no sense. A 20-ounce bottle of Coke was $1.09, but right next to it on the shelf was a 2-liter for $.99. I'm no fucking genius, but I'll tell you which one I'm going to buy. I wondered do they really think we're that fucking stupid? It's like the Krystal's Value Meal a few years ago. The drink, burger and fries together cost more than when purchased individually! My question was answered when I noticed the woman in line before me buying two of the 20-ouncers, and two guys behind me buying two more. But I digress. The moral of the story is that Coke sucks, unless of course you add it to Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum, which is the only way I choose to have my Coke. Pepsi is sweeter and less acidic, which is why I like it more and why I won't be going back to the local QuikTrip. |
| Monday, May 12th, 2003 | |
| 11:14 am | Why You Should Never Hurry to Fix Your Car This weekend the "Check Engine" came on in my Miata. This is bad news considering that I spent about $900 the last time that little fucker came on, so I wasn't happy, but I did go immediately to a service center to check into it. That was my first mistake. The first service center I went into was horrible. I waited at the counter for five minutes while I watched two employees in the back juggle Gatorade bottles like circus clowns. Another employee was on the phone with his girlfriend arguing about going other mother's for Mother's Day. After being ignored long enough I got pissed off and left. If they couldn't treat me with a little more respect while i'm standing right there, then god knows how they'd treat my car when I'm not around. I then went up the street to one of those Quick Lube stores. The "pseudo-mechanic" wanted $65 to run an ODBC System Diagnostic on my car. That's $65 so he can plug his computer up to my car, which is the actual one who identifies the problem, and tell me what is wrong. I know this because I had to research this when my car failed emissions a year ago. That's the equivalent of me going to Kinko's and having them charge me $20 to print a sheet of paper. I politely said no thank you to the mechanic and left... but I wasn't quite polite. So, I did the only thing I knew. I took the car back to the auto emissions test center and paid $20 so the car could fail and I could get my report. I was quite worried when it told me I had an issue with the exhaust manifold, but I'll be damned if the little light didn't turn off on the way home. c'est la vie... |
| Monday, April 28th, 2003 | |
| 11:30 am | Self-satisfaction I haven't written much lately because I've had a bit of writer's block. Twice I've written three or four paragraphs on some inane topic only to delete it after rereading it an hour or two later. Doesn't it feel good when you accomplish a task? A task that you thought might be too complicated or difficult when you first started? Well, I just finished one of those tasks, and I'llbe damned if I don't have another staring at me immediatley after completion of the first task! Oh well, I'm going to savor it for the moment, and when I come back from work, I'll be knee-deep in it again. I'm having a birthday party for Frances this Saturday at the house, so if you're reading this, then you are invited. I havent sent invitations out yet, so if you want more info, email me. |
| Friday, April 11th, 2003 | |
| 2:35 pm | Poetic Wax & Tanning Beds Now that he glamor of war has died down I'd like to take a few moments to reflect and wax poetic: Not really. It's the weekend and all I want to do is drink beer, have sex with my girlfriend, play video games, and drink more beer. I might even go tan... Earlier this week I won a free year's worth of tanning this week, which is cool. I don't eat meat, now I'm going to cook my own. Oh, I'm making fun of that shit, but I've already been twice. My gut is now a nice red. Luckily, my chest didn't burn, but that's only because the hair on it is too thick to allow the UV rays in. I still have 3 more hours here at work and my ass itches. Why? Because I burned that mother fucker too. And it's not like you can put lotion on it when you share an office with six other people. Well, maybe you can, but I don't have the balls to try it... yet. Speaking of balls, no, I didn't burn them. I'm not THAT stupid! But that is another story... WBW |
| Tuesday, March 25th, 2003 | |
| 11:28 pm | Is Insurance Really that Important? Well those damned "Failure To Appears" have finally caught up to my ass. The insurance company informed me today that my insurance will end March 31 because of my suspended license. Oops. OK, maybe that is important. I'm not the utter fuck-up that I pretend to be. The reality is that I'm much worse at playing this adult game. Maybe Mom hasn't given the electric razor scooter away yet! The power went out tonight so I went over to the gay neighbors and had a couple brews. Damn those guys smoke some weed! They have two little pugs named Pig and Tuna! Classic! Well dinner is ready and I must go. Frances cooked tonight. I'm agnostic, but just in case, I'll pray AFTER I eat! B |
| Monday, March 24th, 2003 | |
| 11:25 am | Yard Work and My Twenty Dollar Weed Eater Oh my god! I'm turning into my father! Not that that is a horrible thing but I catch myself doing all the adult things I always dreaded as a child, like mowing the lawn and weed eating! As a child, I hated yard work because my father made me do it. We had a large yard and while my father mowed the big part with the tractor, I was saddled with the push mower, trimming everything. My father's way of getting me to do the yard work was by threatening me with the loss of Sunday TV privileges, and that wasn't going to happen because WWF Superstars came on Sundays! What was worse was wrestling came on at 10am and I had to have the yard work done by then. In order to make sure I didn't miss any wrestling I'd often run over the bushes and shrubs and flowers, but what did I care? I was hoping if I fucked the job up enough my dad might stop me from mowing the yard... fat chance, but I could always hope, right? I'll never forget the one time I ran over the rose bush in a hurry to be down? "Boy, why do you have to do everything so half assed?" "Well Dad, I'd rather be a half ass than a complete ass!" *SLAP* This weekend was quite cathartic for me though. I bought my first yard mowing utility, a $20 Black and Decker electric weed eater. My yard is less than 5 square yards of lawn, and it desperately needed the cutting, or so my landlord thought so. I couldn't believe I was actually going through with it, but there I was in the front yard, weed eating, and picking up "lawn refuse," something that not even my father bothered to do. Of course, my father was much more sophisticated about yard work than me. In the thirty minute timeframe it took me to mow the yard, my dog ran off, I pulled the cord out of the wall a dozen times, I got my shoes nasty, stepped in dog shit, and had to pick up busted beer bottles out of the mulch. I also had to decline the offer to help from about 5 different bums. Frances suggested that I buy a longer extension cord for the weed eater to which I scoffed, “Fuck that! The extension cord will cost more then the damned weed eater!” But I'll be damned if I didn't feel good after I was done, even if the yard looked like the equivalent to a six year old who has given himself a haircut with his father's scissors. And now I also realize why it is imperative that I have children, to keep from having to do the god damned yard work! WBW |
| Monday, March 10th, 2003 | |
| 1:52 pm | Razor Scooters and Grocery Carts My mother won an electric razor scooter at the local Lion's Club meeting last week. What the fuck? If there's anyone who doesn't need an electric razor scooter it's my mother! "But it goes up to fifteen miles an hour! And your dad was riding it in the house!" Apparently she made him put on all of his Harley-riding gear so she could take pictures. Oh the humanity! Anyway, I can hear the phone call now; "Hey Mom! How's it going?" "Not real good. I had a wreck on the electirc razor and broke my leg and lost two teeth. But everythign else is going real good! How are you?" That wouldn't be much worse than the time I broke her foot at the grocery store. When I was in sixth grade she made me go grocery shopping with her at the local H.G. Hills Food Store when things went awry. I wasn't paying attention, doing close to warp 3 speed on the back of the grocery cart when I looked up and my mother had stopped in the middle of the aisle. Needless to say I couldnt stop the cart fast enough, and the scene reminded me a lot of bowling a strike, because she definitely went down! I felt horrible, but what could I do? My mother was laying in the aisle of the grocery store crying, while screaming "YOU LITTLE BASTARD! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Of course that didn't make much sense to me since I WAS her son, but at that very moment I really wished I wasn't. Her foot still gives her problems, even to this day. And although I'm now 29, she refuses to let me go grocery shopping with her if she has a choice. |
| Saturday, February 22nd, 2003 | |
| 12:23 am | R.I.P. "Sharc" level 132 Humar on PSO The best thing that could happen to me, happened to me tonight. The memory card on my GameCube died. Yeah, so what you may ask, but for the past four months I’ve been playing the same game, even online. The stats I had accumulated over that time period are all gone. I’m now ashamed of myself, but do you know how many hours it took me to accumulate a 132nd level Humar on Phantasy Star Online? Yeah, I’m a fucking dork, but if you laugh I’ll kick your ass! Of course my addiction is over. I won’t play any more. I don’t have four more months to spend playing the damned thing like a demon. Fuck it. But that’s not to say that’s all I’ve been doing lately. I lost my job a month ago. Well, I didn’t lose it. I know exactly where it is. And I know exactly where they can stick it! But oddly enough, UPS continues to call me for banal shit they should know. The cool thing is it only took me eight days to find another. And it’s challenging me too, so I’m excited every day I go to work. I wonder how long I’ll be like that until I start waking up with the “god damn not another work day” attitude I had at UPS for the past 6 months? So what did I do while I was out of work? Go on vacation? Party? I played video games… **snort** |